Bounded To My Playboy Billionaire Boss

Chapter 8 - Bounded To My Boss

Richard’s POV;

Stacey stood at the other end of the table, with her hand tapping nervously against the fabric of her pencil skirt.

The royal blue skirt perfectly matched my vintage suit. One might think we were an engaged couple.

Oh! Actually, we were.

“There’s nothing for you to be nervous about,” I opened up the brown scroll, which had written on it all the rules and obligations to our contract. “All you have to do is sign at the bottom.”

Stacey took up the scroll and read through the rules. Though I drafted the contract alone, I ensured that the contract was favorable and fair to us both, even if her dating me alone was more than fair.

These rules of the contract stated that:

*The two parties agree to go on dates at least two times a week. (To maintain their identities in front of the public and to get their pictures taken by paparazzi.)

*The two parties must share at least one kiss every week when they’re in public.

*Both parties cannot date anyone else until the annulment of this contract.

*The existence of this contract or the mention of the relationship being fake must not be told to any external party.

*Richard Desmond agrees to pay Stacey Smith the sum of 30,000 thousand dollars every two weeks until the annulment of this contract.

*This contract is only annulled when the deal with Mr. Donovan is closed.

*Any party that breaks any of these rules would be fined 10,000 thousand dollars that must be paid to the other party.

“Here,” I handed her a pen, “Hopefully the deal goes through after the party with Mr. Donovan.”

Stacey redirected her eyes back on me, and I could tell that she had something on her mind.

“What is it?”

She furrowed her brows and scoffed. “Why did you do it?” Her tone was blunt and direct.

I stared at her in confusion, completely befuddled at the question she just asked. “Do what?”

She gave me that stare again, like I was supposed to be able to read her mind and know what she was thinking. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” I added.

“Why did you release those pictures to Shush-Talkz?” She finally spewed the question she had been holding back. “And don’t even try to deny it because I know it was you.” She warned, her fury evident.

I was surprised at how sure she was that this was my doing. I mean, it could have been anyone. I was curious to know what made her conclude with full resolve that I did it.

“What makes you so sure I did it?” I asked her. “That picture could have been sent by anyone.”

“It was you.” Stacey quickly reaffirmed her statement. “I’m sure because the only people in that parking lot were me, Chad, and you.”

“So?” I wondered if she thought I was the one who sent the pictures just because we were the only ones in the parking lot that night. “If you based your conclusion just on that alone, then you aren’t as smart as I gave you credit for.”

Her eyebrows furrowed again, but this time it wasn’t just in annoyance; it was mixed with determination. It looked like my last statement had triggered something in her.

“My conclusion wasn’t based on that alone.” She steadied her voice with obvious effort. “It was based on three facts.” She curled her thumb and pinkie fingers, leaving only the other three erect.

“Firstly, as I stated, it was only the three of us in that parking lot. The parking lot was a private parking lot with restricted access, so I know there were only three of us on that floor.” She began stating her thesis.

“Secondly, this article is obviously written to paint Chad as the antagonist. I mean, the line literally read; ‘IS BILLIONAIRE CHAD LAWRENCE TRYING TO COME ON TOP IN ANOTHER AREA AGAINST BILLIONAIRE RICHARD DESMOND?’ and it’s with a picture of me and him in the car.

I cleared my throat and adjusted my seat. Maybe I shouldn’t have said she wasn’t smart.

“And lastly, once I put all these into consideration, it wasn’t hard to figure out who sent those pictures because only one person amongst the three of us benefited from this article; you.” She said in conclusion. “And you got to make Chad look like a villain to the public.”

Alright, I really really shouldn’t have said she wasn’t smart. I might have exaggerated the story of what happened that night in the parking lot a little bit when Shush-Talkz reached out again that night, but did it really matter?

“So are you saying I’m the villain?” What mattered was that this lowlife standing in front of me was throwing accurate accusations around and calling me a villain. “You’re calling me the big bad guy, right?”

I stood up from where I sat and briskly walked over to where her 5’2 frame stood.

How dare she have the audacity to accuse me to my face?

“T…that wasn’t…what I meant.” she stammered as she began to take little steps backwards.

“Sir.” I reminded her. “That wasn’t what I meant, Sir.”

We were now just a few inches apart. I could see a drop of sweat slide down her cheek and down the middle of her neck. The sweat continued down to the uppermost part of her cleavage that was left exposed by two unhooked buttons of her white long sleeves.

“That wasn’t what I meant, Sir.” She corrected herself. I had been so lost following the trail of her sweat that her words just suddenly sprung me out of the enticement.

“Oh…yeah,” I managed to utter. If her voice hadn’t jerked me out of my head, I didn’t know what I might have done. I needed to maintain a far distance.

“Just sign the contract, Stacey.” I said as I went back to my seat, focusing my eyes on anything and everything that wasn’t Stacey Smith.

“Yes, sir,” I could hear the clicking of a pen and then the scribbling on the contract paper. “I’m done.” Stacey said.

I still couldn’t look her in the face. What if I did, and I’m tempted to do something against my will again?

“Alright.” I replied blandly, looking out the window that overlooked the city.

Her heels clicked against the tile as she started to leave, then I remembered something I had forgotten to tell her.

“Stacey,” I called out to her and it unintentionally sounded almost like a yearning.

She turned back to look at me. “Yes, sir?”

Hearing her answer so coldly, I was beginning to regret telling her to call me Sir.

“Mr. Donovan’s party is in two days’ time.” D-Day was close, and I wanted everything to go smoothly. This party was going to be a defining factor in a lot of things.

“Free both our schedules tomorrow, we’re going shopping for clothes.”