A Contract With A Billionaire

CHAPTER TWO

I couldn't deal with the mess waiting for me at home after this whole Mr. Arnold disaster.

I crashed at the office that night, hoping that maybe, just maybe, my absence would magically cancel this whole engagement nightmare. So, I set up camp in the cozy cubicle right outside the door to Mr. McAlister's office, contemplating my life choices.

I glanced at my phone, yet another message from my mom lighting up the screen. The 17th, to be exact. Threats of disownment and embarrassment poured in, all thanks to Mr. Arnold's unwelcome proposal.

And if that weren't enough, 23 missed calls, a relentless barrage of her attempts to drag me back home into that party. The guests were probably wondering where I was, but I wasn't ready to face that storm.

The night took over, and the office turned into an empty space. Exhaustion covered me like a heavy blanket, and I gave in to a troubled sleep.

The quiet around me emphasized the weight of my problems, with the ticking clock reminding me that time was running out on my so called engagement party.

+ + + +

My eyes snapped open at the sudden crash, and I instinctively looked toward Mr. McAlister's office.

"What's happening?" I muttered, confusion clouding my expression.

To my surprise, Mr. McAlister stumbled toward his office, looking visibly drunk and emotionally shattered. His usual sharp demeanor was replaced by a disheveled appearance and a vacant look in his eyes. "Leave me alone," he slurred, trying to wave me off.

"Boss, you're— you're going clearly drunk," I replied, concern furrowing my brow as I moved closer. The faint smell of alcohol lingered in the air.

Insisting he wasn't drunk, he muttered, "I'm fine, just leave." His words, however, lacked the usual assertiveness.

Unconvinced, I took charge, guiding him to a bed within the inner chamber of his office. The dim light highlighted the lines of exhaustion on his face.

"You need to rest," I urged, my worry deepening as I witnessed the depth of his emotional distress.

As I struggled to lay Mr. McAlister down, I lost my balance, and he instinctively pulled me close, preventing a fall. In that unexpected proximity, I saw a different side of him, vulnerable and far from the usual arrogance.

The electrifying feel of my body melding with his solid frame sent shivers down my spine. My breath hitched, trapped in my chest, as his contours against mine sparked a forbidden desire.

With every intentional press, my n*****s shamelessly hardened, heightening the tension, a blatant betrayal of the escalating heat between us. I trembled, caught in an undeniable and surprising attraction to my boss, as the currents pulsed between us.

His eyes met mine, and in that instant, it was as if he could see straight through me. I got lost in the depth of his gaze, a magnetic connection that pulled me closer. Everything else faded away as his eyes held mine.

Mr. McAlister's finger traced my face, acknowledging the mark from Sophia's earlier slap. "Who did this to you?" he whispered.

I hesitated but admitted, "It was your fiancee, Sophia."

"You're lying," he murmured, his gaze intense. "I could never let someone hurt a woman as beautiful as you."

His words caught me off guard, and as he continued with the declaration of sweet words, my skepticism grew. "You're only saying this because you're drunk," I insisted.

"I'm not drunk," he argued, his tone defiant. "I remember everything."

As our bodies remained in that position, his fingers traced the contours of my face. Deep within his gaze, I found myself lost, surrendering to the pull of his intense eyes.

"You're so beautiful, Maria," he whispered, his words caressing the air between us. With each word, he listed the features of me he found enchanting.

In a tender moment, he turned me over, gently laying me on the bed. As he leaned over, the room brimmed with the desires in the air. His fingers continued their exploration, moving from my cheekbone to my lips, painting a portrait of admiration for each feature.

"Your lips," he continued, "inviting, could tempt even the most guarded heart." His touch lingered on each detail. Enveloped in the tenderness of his words, I couldn't help but be trapped by the intimacy of the moment.

I wished it was real, that he meant every word. I wished he wasn't drowning in alcohol. I couldn't take advantage of his drunken emotions, making him treat me like a queen when I knew he despised me. It felt wrong, like I was betraying him and myself. I couldn't let myself fall for this facade; I had to stop it.

Maybe he thought I was Sophia, the beautiful model who was his fiancee. She was the only one he cared about.

"I'm not Sophia, Mr. McAlister," I voiced, trying to pull away, but his grip tightened. "Remember, you usually can't stand me. This... This doesn't make sense. You hate me so much," I whispered to his face.

In that moment, his attention and touch shifted from my face to the buttons of my blouse, my n*****s subtly pressing against the soft cotton of my shirt.

"Every part of you turns me on. I just want to hold you close forever," he murmured, his gaze lingering on my well-rounded breasts. The way he looked at me ignited my wildest and dirtiest fantasies, and I found myself yearning for his touch.

As he gripped them gently, a soft moan escaped from my lips. I felt a moment of surrender, as if resistance was futile. Every part of me yearned to succumb to his touch, but I couldn't allow myself to take advantage of his intoxicated state.

His words, laced with the influence of alcohol, persisted, "I don't hate you, Maria. I can't hate someone I find so... Attractive."

I exhaled nervously, my chest rising and falling. Attempting to dismiss his words, I tried to push him over, "You're just drunk, boss. Tomorrow you won't even remember saying all this to me. You're going to go back to hating me as soon as you're sober."

He shook his head, his gaze still. "I'll remember. I promise."

"I wish you would, it would be the best thing that has ever happened in my life, but you won't remember," I whispered. A tear slipped down my cheek, realizing I could never mean anything to him in his sober state.

As he began unbuttoning me, desires surged within me. Part of me yearned for him to continue, yet I couldn't allow him to cross that line in his intoxicated state.

I summoned the last shreds of control and struggled to stop him, realizing the potential consequences once the alcohol wore off and he comprehended the intimacy he had with the Maria he despised so much, it would only fuel his hatred for me.

Despite his attempt to kiss me, I managed to shift away, panting, and pushed him off. Scrambling out of the bed, I hastily buttoned up my shirt, grabbed my bag from the desk, and fled the company, my heart pounding in my chest.

Hailing a cab back home, the night had already advanced past 10:00. Exiting the cab, I noticed the absence of lights around the house, signaling the likely end of the party. With a sigh of relief, I walked in, closed the door behind me, and leaned against it. My heart raced as the vivid scenes with my boss replayed in my mind.

He had left me sexually frustrated, and the desire for him surged within me. Despite him lighting up my world, the sober reality was that, in his sober state, he wouldn't want me as I wanted him.

As I approached my bedroom door, cautious not to wake my sleeping mother, I silently slipped into the room. In the dimness, I closed the door behind me with a sigh of relief, ready to collapse on my bed. Unbuttoning my shirt, I tossed it toward the shadowy bed. My hand reached for the light switch, and as the room illuminated, my eyes widened in shock.

There he was, Mr. Arnold, sprawled undressed across my bed, clad only in a pair of shorts. I stood frozen, my mind struggling to comprehend the scene. Hastily, I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around myself, covering my bra, as I tried to make sense of the unexpected and disturbing sight.

I questioned him sharply, "How on earth did you get into my room?" He responded with a casual chuckle and gestured for me to sit, as if we were old friends. "We have the night ahead of us, baby, a chance to get to know each other better," he said, acting like it was a perfectly normal situation.

With disbelief in my voice, I asked, "And my mom allowed you to wait for me here, in my room?" He nodded, claiming that my absence from the party required urgent discussions. Then, dropping the bomb, he casually mentioned that our wedding was set in stone, a mere two days away.

"Wedding? In two days?" I exclaimed, unable to grasp the absurdity of the situation. "I haven't even agreed to wear your engagement ring, let alone marry you. What is going on?" Shock and speechlessness overwhelmed me.

He smirked, revealing his true motives. "Your mother and I have everything arranged, Maria. The wedding invitations are out, and preparations are underway. You don't want to disappoint your guests, do you?" The audacity of his plan left me stunned, realizing the trap I had unknowingly walked into.

"Your mother was pretty disappointed at your behavior tonight, and she assured me you're already mine. Now, we should start having some fun as the newest couple in town," he said with a sly grin.