The Billionaire’s Forbidden Toy

Chapter 2: The Contract

I did not sleep.

Not properly.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Cassian Voss standing in that forbidden hallway, dressed in black, holding my life between two fingers like a business card.

Tomorrow at nine.

And Alina?

Wear something you don’t mind losing.

Those words had followed me home.

Into the bus.

Into the small apartment I shared with Tessa.

Into the shower, where I stood under cold water and still felt the ghost of his breath near my ear.

By morning, I hated him.

Not because he had offered me money.

Not because he had found out about my mother’s hospital bill.

Not even because he had looked at me like he already knew exactly where I would break.

I hated him because part of me wanted to know what he meant.

That was the humiliating part.

That was the part I refused to say out loud.

“You’re not going.”

Tessa stood in the kitchen doorway wearing an oversized T-shirt, fuzzy socks, and the expression of a woman who had already planned my rescue and possibly my kidnapping.

I sat at our tiny kitchen table, staring at the black card.

It looked too expensive to exist in our apartment.

Everything around it looked poorer.

The chipped mug.

The peeling corner of the table.

The old fridge that made a coughing sound every ten minutes like it was also tired of being alive.

I tapped one finger against the card. “I didn’t say I was going.”

“You showered twice.”

“I was thinking.”

“You shaved your legs.”

“That’s hygiene.”

“You ironed your black dress.”

“That’s also hygiene.”

Tessa folded her arms. “Ironing is not hygiene, Alina. It is preparation for bad decisions.”

I looked up at her. “My mother has seventy-two hours.”

Her face changed.

Just a little.

Enough to hurt.

“I know,” she said softly.

“No, you don’t.” My voice cracked before I could stop it. “You don’t know what it feels like to sit across from a doctor and hear them say treatment can wait when what they mean is money can decide whether your mother lives comfortably or suffers quietly.”

Tessa came closer.

I looked away because if she touched me, I might cry, and I had already decided I was too angry for tears today.

“I’m not saying don’t save her,” she said. “I’m saying don’t let a man like Cassian Voss become the price.”

I laughed once.

It came out bitter.

“Tessa, everything has a price. That’s what being poor teaches you first.”

“No,” she said. “It teaches you how many people are willing to take advantage of desperation.”

I looked back at the card.

The silver number seemed to shine brighter under the weak kitchen light.

“I’m just going to hear the offer.”

“And if the offer involves rich-man weirdness?”

“Then I say no.”

She stared at me.

I stared back.

Then she said, “You’re a terrible liar.”

I almost smiled.

Almost.

But my phone buzzed on the table.

I grabbed it too quickly.

For one stupid second, I expected Cassian.

Instead, it was the hospital.

Again.

A reminder.

As if fear needed reminders.

Tessa saw my face and sighed.

“Fine.”

I blinked. “Fine?”

“You’re going.” She pointed at me. “But I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Tessa, you can’t just storm into a billionaire’s office and threaten him with pepper spray.”

“I can if I wear heels.”

Despite everything, a laugh slipped out of me.

There she was.

My person.

My warning sign.

My witness.

The woman who had stood beside me when everyone else sent prayers and excuses.

I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I need you outside. If I’m not out in one hour, call the police.”

“And say what? My best friend walked willingly into a luxury death trap?”

“Say exactly that. Add tears.”

“I hate this.”

“I know.”

“I hate him.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know enough.”

She took the black card from the table and turned it over.

Then frowned.

“What?”

“There’s an address on the back.”

I had not noticed.

Of course I hadn’t.

I had been too busy pretending the card did not make my pulse jump every time I touched it.

Tessa read it out loud.

“Voss Tower. Top floor.”

She looked at me.

“Of course he has a tower.”

“He’s a billionaire.”

“So are other men. Some of them have normal offices like emotional adults.”

I stood before I could lose courage.

My black dress hung over the back of the chair.

Simple. Fitted. Long sleeves. Not too short. Not too formal.

The kind of dress that said I had dignity even if my bank account disagreed.

Tessa watched me pick it up.

Her expression softened.

“Alina.”

I stopped.

“You are not his toy.”

The words landed deep.

Maybe because of the card.

Maybe because of the way Cassian had looked at me.

Maybe because some part of me already understood that men like him did not offer opportunities without strings.

I nodded once.

“I know.”

But an hour later, standing in the lobby of Voss Tower, I was not so sure.

The building was ridiculous.

Glass, steel, marble, silence.

The kind of silence money bought so it never had to hear itself.

A fountain ran along one wall. Security stood near the elevators. Women in tailored suits walked past like they had never once worried about bus fare or hospital deposits or choosing between groceries and electricity.

Tessa stood beside me, chewing gum aggressively.

“I hate it here,” she whispered.

“You hate everywhere rich.”

“Correct.”

A woman at reception looked up as we approached. She was blonde, perfect, and professionally emotionless.

“Name?”

“Alina Moreau. I’m here to see Mr. Voss.”

Her eyes flicked over me.

Not rude exactly.

Worse.

Assessing.

Then to Tessa.

“Only Miss Moreau is expected.”

Tessa smiled.

It was not friendly.

“That’s adorable.”

The receptionist did not blink. “Mr. Voss will not receive guests without appointment.”

“Tessa,” I murmured.

She ignored me. “Tell Mr. Voss her friend is waiting in the lobby, and if she doesn’t come back down in one hour, I’m calling every news outlet in the city and telling them he eats pretty waitresses for breakfast.”

The receptionist stared.

I closed my eyes.

God.

This was how we died.

A voice behind us said, “Mr. Voss doesn’t eat breakfast.”

We turned.

A tall man in a gray suit stood near the private elevator. Mid-thirties, clean-shaven, calm eyes, expensive shoes. He looked less dangerous than Cassian but more dangerous than ordinary men.

That was not comforting.

His mouth curved politely.

“I’m Elias. Mr. Voss’s legal counsel.”

Tessa looked him over. “You look like you help hide bodies.”

“I prefer prevent lawsuits.”

“Same family.”

His smile deepened slightly before his gaze moved to me.

“Miss Moreau. Mr. Voss is waiting.”

Of course he was.

Of course he had probably been waiting before I even arrived.

I looked at Tessa.

She stepped close and fixed the collar of my dress, even though it did not need fixing.

“If anything feels wrong, you leave,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“No, listen to me.” Her eyes held mine. “Money is not worth you disappearing inside some man’s private world.”

My throat tightened.

I nodded.

Then I followed Elias into the elevator.

The doors closed.

The ride up was too smooth.

Too quiet.

My reflection stared back at me from the polished metal doors.

Long dark hair falling over my shoulders. Brown skin warmer under the elevator lights. Full lips.

Nervous eyes pretending to be brave. The black dress hugged my body more than I remembered.

I looked beautiful.

That scared me.

Beauty had always felt like a weapon other people tried to use against me.

Today, maybe, I would learn to hold it myself.

The elevator opened directly into an office that looked like money had learned discipline.

Dark wood.

Glass walls.

Black leather chairs.

A view of the whole city spread beneath the windows like someone had handed Cassian Voss the world and he had found it acceptable.

And there he was.

Behind a massive desk.

Black suit again.

White shirt this time.

No tie.

Sleeves buttoned.

Hair perfect.

Eyes already on me.

As if he had been watching the elevator doors before they opened.

My pulse betrayed me immediately.

I hated that.

Elias stepped aside. “Miss Moreau.”

Cassian did not look at him.

“Leave us.”

Elias nodded and disappeared through another door.

The elevator closed behind me.

Leaving us alone.

Again.

Cassian leaned back in his chair. “You came.”

I lifted my chin. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m not.”

“Then don’t pretend.”

His mouth curved slightly.

There it was again.

That almost-smile that made him look less human and more dangerous.

“You’re direct this morning.”

“I didn’t sleep.”

His eyes darkened in a way I did not understand.

“No?”

I realized too late how that sounded.

Heat rose into my face.

“Because of the hospital bill,” I snapped.

“Of course.”

The way he said it told me he did not believe that was the only reason.

I walked toward the desk before I could lose my nerve.

“Where is the contract?”

His gaze moved over me slowly.

From my hair.

To my mouth.

To the dress.

To my hands clenched at my sides.

Then back to my face.

“You wore black.”

“You told me to wear something I didn’t mind losing.”

His eyes held mine.

“And do you?”

My breath caught.

“Do I what?”

“Mind losing it?”

The room went still.

Very still.

I should have slapped him.

Or laughed.

Or walked out.

Instead, my entire body flushed with heat so sudden it made me angry.

“You said the work was legal.”

“It is.”

“You said the contract was clear.”

“It is.”

“Then stop speaking in riddles and show it to me.”

For a moment, he only watched me.

Then he opened a drawer, took out a folder, and placed it on the desk.

Black folder.

Of course.

I sat down without being invited and opened it.

Cassian’s eyes flashed.

Good.

Let him learn early that I was not trained for obedience.

The first page was simple.

Name.

Term.

Payment.

I read the number twice.

Then a third time.

My throat went dry.

“That’s weekly?”

“Yes.”

“This is more than I make in three months.”

“Yes.”

I looked up. “For attending events?”

“For attending events. Dinners. Openings. Private gatherings. You will appear with me when required.”

“Why?”

“Because I need a distraction.”

My stomach tightened.

“There are cheaper distractions.”

“Yes.”

“Then why me?”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk.

The movement was small.

The effect was not.

“Because everyone looked at you last night.”

My breath caught.

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“They looked because I was serving drinks.”

“They looked because you walked through that room like you hated everyone in it and still knew you were the most beautiful woman there.”

My mouth parted.

No words came.

None.

Cassian watched the effect of his sentence with quiet satisfaction.

I hated him.

I hated how easily he had found the vain, hungry part of me that wanted to believe it.

I looked back at the contract quickly.

Rules.

There were so many rules.

No discussing private matters.

No accepting gifts from guests.

No entering restricted areas unless invited.

No romantic involvement with other attendees during the contract term.

No media interviews.

No unauthorized photographs.

No emotional claims.

I stopped reading.

“No emotional claims?” I repeated.

Cassian’s face gave nothing away.

“This arrangement is professional.”

“Professional?” I looked at the ridiculous payment again. “You’re paying me a fortune to stand beside you and look pretty.”

“I’m paying you to be seen.”

“As what?”

“A woman I chose.”

The words landed low in my stomach.

I hated that too.

“And what does that make me?”

His eyes held mine.

“That depends on how well you play the part.”

There it was.

The ugly shape beneath the silk.

I closed the folder.

“No.”

Something in his expression shifted.

Not shock.

Interest.

“No?” he asked.

“No. I’m poor, Mr. Voss. Not stupid.”

His gaze sharpened at the formality.

“You don’t like the terms?”

“I don’t like being dressed up as a pretty object so rich people can guess whether you bought me.”

“You think they won’t guess that regardless?”

The words stung because they were true.

Cassian stood.

Slowly.

I stood too.

Not because I needed to.

Because sitting while he towered over me felt like surrender.

He came around the desk and stopped in front of me.

Not touching.

Close enough to ruin my focus.

“Listen carefully, Alina.” His voice lowered. “In every room I enter, people are already playing a game. Power. s*x. Money. Fear. Favor. You can pretend you are above it, or you can learn the rules well enough to win.”

“I’m not interested in becoming your toy.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth.

Then lifted.

“No,” he said softly. “That is exactly why you might survive me.”

The words slid over my skin.

My pulse jumped so hard I was sure he saw it.

He did.

Of course.

His voice dropped even further.

“You think toy means weak. Disposable. Used.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Not always.” He stepped closer. “Sometimes the forbidden toy is the thing a man is not allowed to touch, not because she is powerless…” His eyes held mine. “But because touching her would ruin him.”

I forgot how to breathe.

The office felt too hot.

Too quiet.

Too high above the city.

I should have moved away.

Instead, I whispered, “Are you trying to scare me?”

“Yes.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“No,” he said. “If I were honest, I’d tell you I thought about you all night.”

My heart stopped.

The words did not come out romantic.

They came out like a confession he resented making.

Dangerous.

Controlled.

Unwelcome even to him.

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Then the phone on his desk rang.

The sound sliced through the room.

Cassian did not move at first.

Neither did I.

Then he turned away sharply, like the interruption had saved both of us from something.

He picked up the phone.

“What?”

A pause.

His expression changed.

Not much.

Enough.

“Send her up.”

He hung up.

I swallowed. “Who?”

His gaze returned to me.

Before he could answer, the elevator doors opened.

A woman stepped out.

Tall. Blonde. Beautiful. Elegant in a red dress that looked poured onto her body. Diamonds at her ears. Red nails. Red mouth.

She looked at Cassian first.

Then at me.

Her smile appeared slowly.

Cruel before it became polite.

“Well,” she said. “So this is the new one.”

I felt something cold slide down my spine.

Cassian’s jaw tightened.

“Vivienne.”

The woman walked closer, her heels clicking softly against the floor.

Her eyes moved over me in one slow, insulting sweep.

“Pretty,” she said. “A little young. A little poor. But I suppose that’s the point.”

My face heated.

Cassian’s voice cut through the room.

“Careful.”

Vivienne laughed lightly, but her eyes stayed sharp.

“Oh, Cassian. Don’t growl. It makes you look attached.”

Attached?

My pulse tripped.

I looked at him.

His face was unreadable again.

That somehow made it worse.

Vivienne turned to me and extended one perfect hand.

“I’m Vivienne Laurent,” she said. “Cassian’s former fiancée.”

Former fiancée.

The words hit harder than they should have.

I did not take her hand.

Good.

Let her hold it there.

Her smile sharpened.

“And you are?”

I lifted my chin.

“Leaving.”

Cassian’s eyes cut to me.

“Alina.”

I picked up the contract folder and pressed it against his chest.

His hand came up automatically, catching it.

Our fingers brushed.

Again.

The heat was immediate.

Again.

I hated us both for it.

“Your arrangement sounds crowded, Mr. Voss.”

Then I turned toward the elevator.

Tessa had been right.

This man was trouble.

Not complicated trouble.

Not romantic trouble.

The kind women survived and warned their daughters about.

I pressed the elevator button with shaking fingers.

Behind me, Vivienne laughed softly.

“She has teeth,” she said. “How sweet.”

Cassian did not answer her.

His voice came low behind me instead.

“Walk out now, and the offer expires.”

The elevator doors opened.

I stepped inside and turned around.

Cassian stood in the middle of his office, contract in hand, jaw hard, eyes darker than I had ever seen them.

Vivienne watched like she had paid for front-row seats.

I should have let the doors close.

I should have chosen dignity.

But then my phone buzzed again.

Hospital.

I did not need to read it.

Cassian saw my face.

His expression shifted.

Not soft.

Never soft.

But knowing.

And that was worse.

I looked at him.

Then at Vivienne.

Then back at him.

My pride was bleeding.

My fear was screaming.

But my mother had seventy-two hours.

So I stepped out of the elevator.

Vivienne’s smile faded.

Cassian went completely still.

I walked back to his desk, took the pen, opened the contract, and signed my name before courage could abandon me.

Then I looked Cassian Voss dead in the eye.

“I’ll play your game,” I said. “But I won’t be your toy.”

For the first time since I met him, his control cracked.

Just a little.

Just enough.

And then Vivienne said, very softly from behind me: “That’s what the last girl said too.”