The CEO's Forbidden Contract: 30 Days To Seduce Me

Chapter 2: The ContractEpisode

The garment bags were not dresses. They were armor.

The woman who carried them was tall, blonde, efficient. "I am Sophia, Mr. Blackwell's executive assistant."

Adrian did not look at me. He looked out the window at Manhattan, hands in his pockets, giving me privacy while still owning the room.

"Your old clothes?" Sophia asked gently. "Should we keep them?"

I thought of my second-hand dress, the peeling Target clutch. "No."

The bathroom attached to his office was bigger than my apartment in Queens. Black marble, gold fixtures, a mirror from floor to ceiling. I locked the door.

Inside the first bag was a cream silk dress. Designer. The tag said $2,800. I had never touched anything that expensive. It slipped over my body like water, hugging my waist and hips, falling just above my knee. Modest but sensual. The second bag had nude heels that fit. The third had a small white box. Diamond studs. Real.

When I walked out, Sophia smiled. "Perfect."

Adrian turned. And stopped. His eyes dropped from my face to my waist to my legs, slow, possessive. His jaw tightened.

"Better," he said, voice low. "Much better."

"Is this part of the contract? Dressing me like a doll?"

"No. This is me not wanting people to stare at the seams of your dress. You belong in this tower now, Just Emma. You should look like it."

My cheeks burned. "You said my room is ready. Where?"

He pressed a button. The far wall, which I thought was marble, slid open. Behind it was a private elevator, black glass and soft light.

"After you."

The elevator went up one floor. Seventy-third floor. Penthouse. Doors opened, and I forgot how to speak.

It was not an apartment. It was the sky. Floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides, Manhattan spread below like lights. White marble floors, a fireplace already lit, a grand piano no one played, a kitchen with a chef waiting.

"Miss Carter," the chef said. "I am Marco. Breakfast is ready."

Adrian walked past him. "Later. Show her the rooms."

Sophia led me down a hall. "Four bedrooms, but Mr. Blackwell only uses the master. You will have the east suite. Own dressing room and bath."

The east suite was bigger than any place I had lived. King bed with white sheets, windows facing Central Park, dressing room half full of clothes in my size. Dresses, jeans, sweaters, coats. All new. Tags on.

"How did he know my size?" I whispered.

"Mr. Blackwell notices things. He noticed last night."

I touched a soft cashmere sweater. My throat tightened. "I cannot accept all this."

"You signed. Rule One says you will live here. People will see you with him. Galas. Dinners. They need to believe."

"Believe what?"

"That he is in love. That he can be."

She left. I sat on the edge of the bed. Phone buzzed.

MANHATTAN GENERAL HOSPITAL: PAYMENT RECEIVED $47,000. THANK YOU. TREATMENT WILL CONTINUE.

I cried. For the first time since my mother got sick, I sobbed with relief. Covered my mouth so no one heard.

A knock. Adrian stood in the doorway, not entering. Jacket off. White shirt, sleeves rolled to elbows.

"You got the message."

"Yes. Thank you." I wiped my eyes. "You paid before I started."

"I keep my word." He leaned against the doorframe. "Are you crying because you are happy or because you hate me?"

"Both."

He smiled, real this time, small but softening his sharp jaw. "Honest. I like that."

"Why all the clothes? You did not need to."

"Because yesterday you walked into The Plaza checking your phone every thirty seconds, thinking about your mother dying, and you still looked at me like I was a man. Most women look at me and see a wallet. You saw me."

I stood. "I saw a lonely man at the top of a tower."

Something flickered in his eyes. He stepped close enough that I could smell his cologne, dark and clean. "Do not psychoanalyze me, just Emma. It will not make you win."

"I am not trying to win. I am trying to survive thirty days without falling for you. Rule Three."

"Rule Three. You will not fall in love with me."

"Yes."

"Good. I am not easy to live with. I work eighteen hours a day. I do not like noise in the morning. I do not share my bathroom. And I do not like being touched without asking."

"Noted. I do not like being called good girl by my boss."

He laughed, surprised. "I am not your boss. I am your experiment."

"And you are my landlord."

"I have been called worse."

My stomach growled, loud in the quiet. I froze. He looked amused.

"Come. Marco made eggs. You need to eat before we go over the real contract."

The kitchen island was marble, with two stools. He sat on one, I on the other, too close. Marco placed plates. Scrambled eggs, avocado, toast, berries.

"Do you always have a chef on standby?"

"No. I usually eat at my desk. I told him to come because you had not eaten since yesterday."

"You have people watching me?"

"I have people noticing you. Difference."

We ate in silence. I tried not to stare at how his hands held his fork, or how his throat moved when he drank coffee. He tried not to stare at my mouth.

After breakfast, he pulled a thicker file. Forty pages, legal language.

"Official agreement. Lawyers drafted it. Your mother's $47,000 is paid and non-refundable. You will reside here for thirty days. You will accompany me to three public events per week minimum. You will not speak to the press without approval. You will not disclose financial terms."

"And five million?"

"If at the end of thirty days, I say you made me feel something real, you get five million, same day. If I say you failed, you get zero, but your mother's bill stays paid."

"Who decides if you feel something? You? You could lie."

"You think I would lie to keep money I already have?"

"I think rich men always find a way."

"Fair." He wrote on the last page.

Addendum: Decision confirmed by Dr. Julian Cross, licensed therapist, four years with me. He will interview both separately on Day 30.

He initialed it. AB.

"Better?"

"Yes."

"Sign."

I signed. Hand shook less this time.

Sophia reappeared with iPad. "Mr. Blackwell, your nine-thirty board meeting, and Vanessa is in the lobby."

Name changed the air. Adrian's face went blank. Ghost CEO mask.

"Vanessa?"

"Your ex-fiancée," Sophia said carefully. "No appointment."

"I will not see her."

"She says urgent. About the wedding."

"There is no wedding. She left."

I stood. "I should go to my room."

"No." His voice sharp. "Stay."

The elevator dinged. A woman stepped out. Tall, blonde, perfect, red dress that cost more than my mother's hospital bed. She saw me and smiled, eyes like ice.

"Adrian, darling, you did not tell me you replaced me already." She touched his chest. He did not move. "Who is this? Your new charity?"

"Leave," Adrian said quietly.

"I came because of your mother"

"Do not mention my mother."

Vanessa turned to me. "Sweetheart, do you know what you signed? He collects broken girls to prove he has a heart. I was first. You are just next."

I felt small again, in my $2,800 dress.

Adrian stepped between us, protective. "Sophia, escort Miss Laurent out. Now."

Vanessa laughed. "You will get bored in a week. Just like you got bored of me. Because you cannot love. You are broken, Adrian."

Doors closed. Silence.

I stared at his back, broad and tense. "Is that true?"

He turned. Storm-gray eyes darker now, hurt under anger. He looked at me like I was the only solid thing in the room.

"Do you think I am broken, just Emma?"

Heart pounded. Thirty days. Five million. Rule Three: Do not fall in love. But looking at him, lonely and furious and trying so hard to feel, I knew I was already in danger.

"What if I can prove you are not?" I whispered.

He stepped closer, heat from his chest. Lifted hand, hesitated, and brushed my cheek.

"Then you will sleep in the master suite," he said, voice rough. "From tonight. Because I do not let people who might save me sleep far away."

My breath caught. "What?"

"The east suite was a test. You passed. Real contract starts tonight. You move into my room. Same bed."

He leaned down, mouth inches from mine. I could feel his breath, warm against my lips, and my whole body trembled. I had never been this close to a man like him. Dangerous, powerful, yet looking at me like I was the only person who could answer a question he had been afraid to ask for years.

"Welcome to Day One, Just Emma. Try not to fall. For thirty days I would be his. For thirty days he would try to be mine. And I already knew I was losing." My heart had already forgotten Rule Three.