My Revenge, His Contract

Chapter 11 Red Carpet

I woke the next morning to silence. For one disorienting second, I forgot where I was. Pale morning light filtered through the curtains, and the room smelled different to the cologne that had lingered through Adrian’s penthouse only twenty-four hours earlier.

Then it all came rushing back to me.

The flat, the keys, and the contract. Then him. Noel.

Lying still for a moment, I stared at the ceiling while the events of the last few days moved through my head in fragments. The way Noel and Mira had been together, me walking out, going to a motel, the club, and meeting Adrian. The way he had kissed me back at his penthouse, the way we had had s*x into the early hours of the morning, and how I had woken in his bed and signed a year of my life away to a contract with a man who treated emotions like negotiable liabilities.

I suppose normal people would probably have had a breakdown by now.

But me? I had a new home and new beginnings.

Pushing the covers back, I sat up slowly. The room was so quiet and empty, yet it felt nice. I felt safe and relaxed.

This was all mine.

Nobody expected anything from me before I had even opened my eyes.

Just space.

All mine.

I grabbed my laptop and started to shop for things for my flat. A sofa, table and chairs, a wardrobe, even small things like cutlery and a lamp. I smiled to myself when I opened my banking app and stared at the numbers again.

Just then, my phone rang.

Unknown number.

I decided to answer it cautiously. “Yes?”

“Good morning, Miss Carter.” A bright and cheerful voice came back at me.

“Who is this?”

“My name is Claire. I am Mr Vale’s assistant,” the woman said.

I leaned against the wall and frowned.

Of course, Adrian had an assistant. He had a lot of things and people who ran around after him.

“Right, and how can I help you, Claire?”

“Mr Vale has asked me to contact you regarding practical arrangements.”

I closed my eyes and sighed.

Was I really involved in something that required those words before nine in the morning?

“Miss Carter?” Claire said after I hadn’t answered quickly enough.

“I am listening.”

“There will be a car collecting you tomorrow at seven-thirty sharp for the Harrington Foundation dinner. Dress well. Mr Vale requests that you be ready on time.”

I frowned at that last part.

“Requests?”

There came a pause.

“Yes, Miss Carter.”

I almost laughed out loud. “I will be ready on time, thank you,” I said.

“Excellent, Miss Carter, and for your information, I have arranged a clothing appointment this afternoon for you to attend.”

My posture stiffened immediately.

“No, thank you.”

I could imagine the look of surprise on the woman’s face. She probably wasn’t used to being told no.

I probably came across defensive, independent, or even difficult, but I didn’t care. Not one bit.

“I am not being dressed like one of his projects,” I snapped.

“Of course, Miss Carter.” Her tone remained neutral, but I could already feel the note being mentally filed away.

I smiled to myself. Poor woman.

She ended the call.

Staring down at my phone for a moment, I shook my head and wondered how a man like Adrian could think so highly of himself.

This was insane.

I had signed a contract with a man who delegated my clothes before breakfast.

But yet, part of me liked that someone had thought ahead.

By lunchtime, I was already in town.

Not because Adrian Vale had made it clear he wanted me dressed well, but because I refused to arrive at some grand dinner feeling underprepared. If I were going to stand by his side in public, then I would do it on my terms.

The boutique I chose was expensive enough to make my old instincts run me out of the shop with my tail between my legs and into the local thrift store. But I remembered my bank balance and smiled to myself. I belonged in here. I deserved to be in here.

The store assistant spotted me and smiled. “Hello, miss. Would you like any help?”

I shook my head, scanning the rows of beautiful outfits before turning my attention back to her. “Actually, yes. I suppose you could assist me in finding something suitable for an important dinner event.”

The girl’s smile spread wider, and her eyes widened in excitement. “I know just the thing, madam. Come through here.”

An hour later, I stood in front of a huge full-length mirror wearing a sleek black gown that skimmed my figure without trying too hard. I barely recognised myself.

“This is the one,” I said, my mind made up.

The assistant beamed. “It suits you beautifully,” she agreed.

As she rang it up, my phone buzzed yet again.

Noel.

I rejected the call without hesitation, and then the buzz of more messages followed.

Please stop ignoring me. I need you. Mira means nothing to me. It’s you that I love and miss. Please.

My stomach churned. How could he say that Mira meant nothing to him when he had risked everything we had built and slept with her behind my back?

By six-thirty, I was dressed, my makeup simple and my hair curled in loose waves that fell over my shoulders. The black dress fitted me perfectly, and the heels already hurt my feet, but I ignored them.

There was a knock at the door right on cue at seven-thirty, just as Claire had informed me.

I opened the door and saw a man dressed in a dark suit.

“Miss Carter.” He gave a polite nod.

The car was sleek and far too expensive to be considered normal transport, but I supposed Adrian Vale wanted to be seen as that.

I slid into the back seat and tried not to look so impressed.

I looked out the window as the city lights blurred past, and nerves started to tighten in my stomach.

Was I doing the right thing?

The car stopped, and the first thing that I noticed was the flashes of cameras outside the grand entrance.

That made me freeze.

There had been no mention of paparazzi.

“Oh s**t,” I mumbled under my breath.

But it was too late to change my mind now, as the red door opened and there stood Adrian Vale himself. He was dressed in a tailored black tuxedo and had one hand already extended out for me.

He was immaculate, calm, and unsurprised by my panic.

“Miss Carter,” he greeted me.

“You forgot to mention photographers,” I said through gritted teeth.

He smirked. “You neglected to ask.” His gaze moved slowly over me, unreadable.

“You look exceptional.”

The cameras exploded into light as I stepped out of the car, my hand in Adrian’s.

“What am I supposed to do?” I hissed through a fixed smile.

“Walk and try not to look like you would rather stab me.” A flicker of amusement touched his mouth.

I felt his hand on my back as he guided me down the red carpet and into a huge entrance hall.

“Stay close,” he said quietly in my ear.

Across the room, three women stopped mid-conversation and looked me up and down, as if deciding whether I belonged there.

I told myself that they did not matter.

They did not know me.

“You look stunning,” Adrian whispered in my ear as he pulled me close to him.

I felt my heart thump in my chest as a warmth spread through me.