UNTAMED CONTRACT

CHAPTER FOUR: THE LION'S DEN

The garment bag hanging on my bedroom door looked less like clothing and more like a weapon disguised as silk.

It had arrived at six o’clock sharp, delivered by a quiet man in a tailored black suit who introduced himself as Julian’s private chauffeur, Thomas. Inside was a floor-length crimson gown made of heavy, liquid silk. It had a modest high neckline in the front, but the back plunged down to the small of my spine, held together by delicate, crisscrossing straps.

Julian hadn't just asked me to wear red—he’d sent a statement piece designed to turn every single head in the room.

By seven o'clock, I was standing in front of my full-length mirror, smoothing down the front of the dress. My hair was swept up into a sleek, elegant bun, and my lips were painted a matching shade of deep ruby. I looked like a woman who belonged in a penthouse. I looked like a woman who could hold the attention of a man like Julian Vance.

Fake it until you make it, I told my reflection, taking a deep, steadying breath. Ten million dollars. You can play a loving girlfriend for four hours.

A crisp double knock sounded at my apartment door.

My heart did a traitorous flip. I grabbed my clutch, checked my phone one last time, and walked to the entryway. When I pulled the door open, the breath caught in my throat.

Julian was leaning against the doorframe, adjusting the silver cufflinks on his tuxedo. A tailored black tux elevated his already imposing presence, making his broad shoulders look wider and his dark hair darker.

He looked up—and stopped mid-movement.

For three entire seconds, the cool, untouchable CEO vanished. His dark eyes swept slowly down the length of the red dress, lingering on the fitted waist before rising back to meet my gaze. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his pupils dilated just enough for me to notice.

"You're late," I said, breaking the heavy silence before the tension in the hallway could swallow me whole.

Julian blinked, his impenetrable mask snapping back into place so fast I almost thought I’d imagined his reaction. Almost.

"A Vance is never late, Maya. Everyone else is simply early," he said softly, stepping back to let me exit into the corridor. His gaze tracked me as I locked my apartment door. "The dress suits you."

"Your driver said you picked it out yourself," I replied, turning to face him. "Is this really about pissing off your mother, or do you just enjoy playing dress-up with your contract workers?"

A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at his lips as he offered me his arm. "Both."

I looked at his bent elbow, then up at his face. "Rule One starts now?"

"Rule One started the moment I stepped into this hallway," he murmured, taking a step closer until his scent—cedar, amber, and crisp cold air—wrapped around me once more. "From this second until we get back into the car tonight, you are utterly, helplessly infated with me."

I placed my hand gently on his forearm. The muscle beneath the fine wool was rock solid. I leaned in slightly, tilting my chin up and flashing him a sweet, brilliant smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Whatever you say, darling."

Julian’s eyes darkened, a flash of something primitive passing through his features before he covered it with a smooth chuckle. "Careful, Maya. Keep smiling at me like that and the press won't be the only ones convinced."

The entrance to the Grand Regency Hotel was a chaos of flashing cameras, red carpets, and shouting reporters. Valets in crisp uniforms hurried to open doors for vintage Ferraris and sleek Maybachs.

When Thomas pulled our town car up to the curb, my stomach churned into a tight, anxious knot.

"Nervous?" Julian asked beside me in the dim interior of the car.

"Terrified," I admitted honestly, watching the sea of paparazzi outside the tinted windows. "If I mess this up—"

"You won't," Julian interrupted. His tone was surprisingly steady, lacking its usual sarcastic edge. He reached across the leather seat and wrapped his hand over mine. His fingers were warm, steadying the subtle tremor in my wrist. "Look at me, Maya."

I turned to him.

"You don't need to know their names, and you don't need to care about their opinions," he said, his thumb lightly stroking the back of my hand. "All you have to do is look at me. Follow my lead. I won't let them tear you apart."

The sheer sincerity in his voice caught me off guard. For a split second, I saw a glimpse of the man beneath the billionaire armor—someone protective, grounded, and fiercely loyal.

Before I could process it, Thomas opened the door, and the roar of the crowd spilled into the car.

Julian stepped out first, immediately surrounded by a barrage of flashing white lights and shouted questions. He turned back, extending his hand toward the open door.

Taking a deep breath, I slid my hand into his and stepped out onto the red carpet.

The cameras went wild.

"Mr. Vance! Who is she?"

"Julian, is this the woman from the restaurant?"

"Over here! Give us a smile!"

Julian didn't rush. He pulled me close to his side, his arm slipping naturally around my waist, his palm resting against the bare skin exposed by the low back of my dress. The heat of his touch was like a brand against my spine, sending a sudden shiver straight down my body.

Instead of pulling away, I leaned into his side, resting my hand lightly against his chest and looking up at him with a warm, intimate smile. Julian looked down at me, his gaze softening in a way that looked so genuine it sent my heart into hyperdrive.

Camera shutters clicked rapidly, capturing the exact image of Julian Vance completely wrapped around a woman's finger.

We made our way through the grand glass doors and into the chandelier-lit ballroom. The noise of the press faded, replaced by the soft hum of a string quartet, clinking champagne flutes, and the quiet, lethal hushes of high-society gossip.

Every eye in the room landed on us.

"Well, well, well," a sharp, cultured voice echoed from the top of the grand marble staircase. "I see you finally decided to make an appearance, Julian."

A woman descended the stairs with the icy grace of a panther. She was in her late fifties, impeccably preserved, wearing a floor-length emerald gown and diamonds that could buy a small country. Her sharp, hazel eyes locked onto me, taking in the bright crimson dress with absolute disdain.

Victoria Vance. Julian's mother.

"Mother," Julian said smoothly, his hand tightening slightly at my waist in a silent signal. "I'd like you to meet Maya. The woman I'm going to marry."

Victoria stopped at the bottom step, her eyes narrowing as she looked me up and down.

"Marry?" Victoria let out a soft, mocking laugh that drew the attention of several nearby board members. "Julian, darling, don't be absurd. You haven't mentioned a word about a serious relationship, let alone a fiancée. And wearing red to the Vance Foundation gala? It’s practically screaming for attention."

"Red is my favorite color, Mrs. Vance," I cut in smoothly, stepping slightly closer to Julian's side and resting my hand over his chest. I felt his heartbeat—steady and calm. "And Julian insisted I wear it tonight. He said it brings out the best in me."

Victoria's gaze snapped to mine, sharp enough to cut glass. "Did he now? And where exactly did Julian find you, Maya? I don't recall seeing your family at any of our charity functions."

The underlying insult was loud and clear: You don't belong here.

Before I could answer, Julian leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the side of my neck right above my collarbone. The touch sent a shockwave straight through me, making me catch my breath for real.

"Maya doesn't spend her time at empty socialite parties, Mother," Julian murmured, his lips lingering near my ear before he straightened up to face his mother. "She runs her own business and lives in the real world. Something this family could use a bit more of."

Victoria’s jaw tightened, her knuckles turning white around her stem of champagne. "The board is going to have serious questions about this sudden... domestic development, Julian. Especially Richard."

Right on cue, a tall man in his late fifties with slicked-back gray hair and a scheming smile stepped out from the crowd, holding a whiskey glass.

Richard Vance. Julian’s uncle, and the man trying to steal control of Vance Global.

"Victoria is right, nephew," Richard said, taking a slow sip of his drink as his eyes scanned me with cold calculation. "Announcing an engagement forty-eight hours before the board vote looks desperate. Are we sure this lovely young lady isn't just a very expensive piece of public relations strategy?"

The tension in the air instantly spiked. Several board members hovered nearby, waiting to see how Julian would handle the trap.

Julian didn't flinch. Instead, he smiled—a cold, deadly expression that made even Richard pull back slightly.

"You're welcome to test how real we are, Uncle Richard," Julian said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous tone. "But I suggest you do it carefully. Maya isn't just my fiancée. She’s about to own half of everything I build. And if you disrespect her again in front of my board, I'll make sure your seat at the table is revoked by midnight."

Richard’s smirk vanished, replaced by a flush of anger. Victoria glared at us both, her eyes darting between my hand on Julian's chest and the fierce, protective shadow Julian cast over me.

"Enjoy the evening, Mother," Julian said smoothly, pulling me past them toward the center of the ballroom. "We have a dance to catch."

As we walked away from the stunned group, my heart was hammering like a trapped bird.

"Did we survive that?" I whispered under my breath, keeping my fake smile locked on my face as guests watched us pass.

"You were brilliant," Julian murmured into my ear, his breath hot against my skin as his arm held me tight. "Now comes the hard part."

I glanced up at him. "What hard part?"

"We have to dance," Julian said, leading me onto the floor just as the quartet shifted into a slow, romantic waltz. "And everyone in this room is waiting for us to make a mistake."