Sugar Baby for the Ice King

Chapter 2

ROSALIE

For three agonising seconds, the VIP lounge went dead silent. The only sound was the rhythmic drip of rainwater falling from the hem of my coat onto the plush carpet.

The man sitting across from Rhett who I now knew to be Frank, his PR manager, stared at me with his mouth slightly open, looking at me as if I had just dropped from outer space.

But Rhett Donovan didn’t blink. His piercing, icy-grey eyes slowly tracked from my soaked boots, up my trembling legs, past my ruined dress, and finally settled on my face. There was no warmth in his gaze. It felt like being scanned by a highly sophisticated, dangerous piece of machinery.

"Three million dollars," Rhett repeated. His voice was a low, gravelly baritone that sent a shiver straight down my spine.

He leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his massive arms over his chest. The fabric of his charcoal suit jacket strained against his broad shoulders. "That’s a very specific price tag for a walk-in audition, sweetheart."

Sweetheart…

"It’s the price of my freedom," I said, keeping my chin lifted even though my heart was hammering so violently against my ribs I was sure he could hear it. "You said you need a respectable, clean girlfriend who can fool your traditional board of directors. Look at me. I don’t look like an escort. I have a clean record. And I am desperate enough to play whatever part you want."

In fact, I would offer my head on the platter than marry that old man.

Frank cleared his throat frantically, pulling out a tablet. "Uh, Rhett, wait a minute. Let me run a quick facial recognition and background check. We can’t just—"

"Do it," Rhett commanded, never breaking eye contact with me.

For two minutes, the only sound was Frank’s fingers tapping furiously against the screen. I stood there, shivering, holding my breath. If Rhett turned me down, Arthur Vance and my father would be waiting for me. I had nowhere else to go.

"Holy hell," Frank whispered suddenly, his eyes widening as he looked at the tablet screen. "Rhett, look at this. Her name is Rosalie Hayes. She’s the daughter of Richard Hayes, the real estate mogul who just went bankrupt. And get this... she is engaged to Marcus Miller."

“Was,” I corrected.

Rhett’s eyebrow twitched upward. "Miller? The minor league forward we just traded for?"

"Yes!" Frank nodded quickly, leaning in. "The press just leaked photos ten minutes ago of Marcus Miller kissing her step-sister, Cynthia, in the stadium locker room. The internet is already tearing Miller apart. Rosalie is the ultimate sympathetic victim right now. If she becomes your girlfriend, the media will see it as the ultimate upgrade. A high-society girl leaving a cheating athlete for the billionaire king of the league."

I thought I was the only one who saw Marcus. I hope the internet has more in stock for him than just tearing him apart.

Rhett’s gaze darkened, a predatory glint flashing in his eyes.

He leaned forward, placing his large hands on the table. I couldn't help but notice his knuckles were slightly bruised. "Your fiancé cheated on you tonight, and your father is bankrupt," Rhett summarised coldly. "Where does the three million come in?"

He wanted to know more about me, and honestly, there was no point hiding anything anymore. I was already lucky enough to be standing in front of a man like Rhett Donovan, let alone being considered for his ridiculous proposal.

And nowhere in the world could I magically find three million dollars overnight to pay off my father’s debt.

As much as I hated what my father had become; his gambling addiction, the endless lies, the way he kept dragging us deeper into disaster, he was still my father. I couldn’t just stand back and watch dangerous men destroy him.

If this contract with Rhett was the only way to save my family and buy my freedom at the same time… then maybe it was worth losing a little more of myself for it.

"My father sold my hand in marriage to Arthur Vance to clear his gambling debt," I whispered, the humiliation tasting like ash in my mouth. "The contract is signed. Arthur is coming for me next week. I need three million dollars tonight to wire to my father's creditors, or I become an old man's possession."

Rhett stared at me for a long moment, evaluating my desperation.

Then, a slow, dangerous smile touched the corner of his lips. It wasn't a warm smile, it looked like the very smile of a businessman who had just found a flawless asset.

"Frank, leave us," Rhett ordered.

"But Rhett, the paperwork—"

"Now," Rhett barked. Frank didn't hesitate. He grabbed his tablet and practically scrambled out of the VIP lounge, leaving me entirely alone with the Ice King.

Rhett stood up. He towered over me, standing at least six-foot-four, his sheer physical presence instantly making the spacious lounge feel incredibly small.

He walked around the table, stopping just inches away from me. The heat radiating off his body contrasted sharply with the freezing rain soaked into my clothes. He smelled of expensive cologne, clean linen, and faint winter frost.

He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a sleek, matte-black fountain pen, and grabbed a clean white linen napkin from the table.

"Three million dollars is a drop in the bucket for me, Rosalie," he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips before locking back onto my eyes. "I will wire the funds to your father's creditors within the hour. Your debt will be erased. You will be free from Arthur Vance."

Relief washed over me so intensely my knees buckled slightly, but Rhett caught my forearm. His grip was firm, unyielding, and completely dominant.

"But don't mistake me for a saviour," he warned, his voice dropping an octave, sending a thrill of pure danger through my veins. "I am a businessman, and you just sold yourself to me instead. If I pay your price, my rules are absolute. And if you break them, I will ruin what is left of your life."

He pressed the napkin onto the table and wrote three lines in sharp, elegant cursive.

"Rule number one," Rhett said, tapping the first line. "You move into my penthouse tonight. The media needs to believe we are deeply, fiercely inseparable. You leave your past behind."

I swallowed hard, looking at the words. "Okay."

"Rule number two," he continued, his icy eyes pinning me to the spot. "You obey every clause of the official contract. When we are in public, you smile when I smile. You hold my hand. You wear my jersey. You look at me like I am the only man in the room. Total public obedience."

"And in private?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"In private, you stay out of my way unless I call for you," he said coldly. Then, he wrote the final line, pressing the pen so hard into the napkin it nearly tore the fabric. "Rule number three. Under no circumstances do you ever fall in love with me. This is a transaction, Rosalie. I don't do romance, and I don't do feelings. Do we have a deal?"

I looked at the napkin. I looked at the man who held my entire future in his bruised, powerful hands. He was a devil, but he was a devil who could save me from a living nightmare.

I reached out, took the heavy fountain pen from his fingers, and signed my name directly beneath his rules.

"We have a deal, Mr. Donovan."

Rhett snatched the napkin away, a dark, satisfied smirk appearing on his face. He grabbed his tailored coat and threw it over my shivering shoulders. It was heavy, warm, and engulfed me completely.

"Good," Rhett whispered, gripping my waist and pulling me firmly against his side as he walked me toward the exit. "Let’s go home, little sugar baby. Your new life starts now.”