UNTAMED CONTRACT

CHAPTER THREE: BOUNDARIES AND BARGAINS

My brain struggled to process the string of zeros glowing on my phone screen.

$10,000,000.00.

Ten million dollars. Just like that, the crushing weight that had been suffocating my family for years dissolved with a single tap of Julian Vance’s finger. The loan sharks, the threatening calls in the middle of the night, the sleepless hours spent staring at unpaid bills—all of it erased in less than five seconds.

I stood frozen in the center of his massive penthouse office, the scent of expensive leather and dark cedar wrapping around me like a cage. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I was certain he could hear it.

I stared at the screen, then looked up at the man standing just inches away from me. The heat radiating off his body was overwhelming, contrasting sharply with the cool, calculating expression in his dark eyes.

Three months. I belonged to him for three months.

"You're out of your mind," I whispered, my voice trembling despite my desperate attempt to sound composed. I forced myself to plant my hands against his chest and push back, breaking the dangerous warmth of his breath against my lips. "You can't just buy a person, Julian. This isn't a business transaction—it's my life."

Julian didn't stumble. He barely even swayed. A slow, breathtaking smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he straightened his tie, adjusting his cuff links with agonizing precision. In an instant, the intense heat in his eyes vanished, replaced once more by the impenetrable, frigid armor of the billionaire CEO who ruled the corporate world.

"I didn't buy a person, Maya," Julian said smoothly, his voice dropping into that smooth, commanding cadence that made people fall in line. "I funded an investment. My capital cleared your family's liabilities. In return, you provide the service we agreed upon. That makes it a business transaction."

He turned on his heel and walked around his massive mahogany desk. From the leather organizer, he pulled out a slim black folder and slid a single sheet of paper across the polished wood toward me. Beside it, he placed a heavy, custom Montblanc pen.

"The rules of our arrangement," he said, resting his fingertips on the edge of the desk. "Read them. Sign them."

I stepped closer, keeping my spine rigid. I refused to let him see how shaken I truly was. Lowering my gaze to the document, I scanned the crisp black text.

"What kind of rules?" I asked, my tone guarded.

"Simple ones designed to keep both of us from making catastrophic mistakes," Julian replied. He leaned back against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. The tailored fabric of his suit jacket stretched tightly against his broad shoulders. "First rule: Absolute devotion in public. When we step outside this office, in front of the press, my board members, or my family, you are head over heels in love with me. No hesitation. No awkward pauses when the media asks about us. And above all, no pulling away when I touch you."

An involuntary shiver ran down my spine. The thought of his hands on me in public—and having to pretend I enjoyed it—sent a strange mixture of dread and electricity straight to my stomach.

I squeezed my hands into fists at my sides to hide the subtle tremor. "And when the cameras are off? In private?"

"In private, we are strict business partners," he said flatly. Yet, despite his cold words, his dark eyes slowly tracked the movement of my throat as I swallowed hard. "Which brings me to Rule Two: Co-habitation. You move into my penthouse starting tomorrow evening."

"What?" My head snapped up, my eyes widening in shock. "No! That was definitely not part of the deal—"

"It is now," Julian interrupted softly, his tone leaving zero room for debate. "My family and the board of directors are scrutinizing every breath I take right now. If we're fake dating to secure my position as chairman, living in separate apartments five miles apart will raise red flags within forty-eight hours. Tabloids have eyes everywhere, Maya."

"I have a life, Julian! I have an apartment, a routine—"

"You have a life that was about to be ruined by your father's creditors," he reminded me, his voice sharp and unyielding. "The penthouse has two separate wings. You will have your own private suite, your own bathroom, and complete privacy. But as far as the rest of the world is concerned, we share a home. You pack your essentials tomorrow."

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted copper. The thought of being trapped under the same roof as Julian Vance—a man whose presence felt like an oxygen-deprived room—was terrifying. But as I looked back at my phone, seeing that staggering eight-figure balance, I knew I had no real leverage left. He had paid the price. I had accepted the money.

"Fine," I spat through gritted teeth, stepping up to the desk. "What's Rule Three?"

Julian didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pushed off the desk and walked slowly around it until he was standing directly in front of me again. The sheer height of him forced me to tilt my head back.

He reached out, his long, warm fingers gently catching my chin. His touch was surprisingly soft, tilting my face up so I had no choice but to look straight into the dark abyss of his eyes.

"Rule Three," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly across the center of my lower lip, sending a sudden, traitorous jolt straight down my spine. "Do not fall in love with me, Maya. This is a contract. In ninety days, the board votes, you walk away with your freedom and a clean slate, and I retain control of Vance Global. Don't make the foolish mistake of thinking any of this is real."

My breath hitched in my throat. The sheer arrogant nerve of this man was unbearable.

Reaching up, I grabbed his wrist. His skin was warm, his pulse steady and infuriatingly calm beneath my fingers. I pushed his hand away from my face.

"Don't flatter yourself, Mr. Vance," I said, injecting every ounce of ice and sarcasm I could muster into my voice. "You might have ten million dollars, but you are nowhere near my type. Falling in love with you will be the absolute easiest rule on that entire page to keep."

A dangerous, intensely amused smirk played at the corner of his lips. "We'll see."

Without another word, I picked up the Montblanc pen. My hand was surprisingly steady as I pressed the nib to the paper, signing my full name on the dotted line at the bottom.

Maya Lin.

It felt less like a signature and more like signing away a piece of my soul.

"Good," Julian said, taking the pen back and slipping the signed document into his folder. He retrieved his charcoal coat from the leather chair nearby. "Get some sleep tonight, Maya. You're going to need it. Tomorrow night is the Vance Family Annual Gala at the Grand Regency Hotel. You are my official date, and I'll have my chauffeur pick you up at seven sharp."

He paused at the heavy double doors of his office, resting his hand on the brass handle. He looked back over his shoulder, his dark eyes sweeping over me one last time with an intensity that made my skin flush hot.

"Wear something red," he added calmly. "My mother hates red."

Before I could formulate a witty comeback or tell him where he could shove his wardrobe requests, the heavy door clicked shut behind him, leaving the grand office dead silent.

I stood there alone for a long moment, the quiet humming of the skyscraper's air conditioning the only sound in the room. I looked down at my phone one last time. The ten million dollars was still there. It wasn't a dream.

Walking over to the floor-to-ceiling glass window, I looked out over the sparkling skyline of the city. Down below, the streetlights looked like tiny streams of gold. For the first time in years, my family was safe from bankruptcy. But as I touched my thumb to my lower lip—where the phantom heat of Julian's skin still lingered—a terrifying thought crept into my mind.

I had saved my family from a monster, but I had just handed myself over to a much more dangerous one.