MY CONTRACT HUSBAND IS A RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE

Chapter 3 - One Room, One Bed

Paris. City of love.

And I was stuck here with the coldest man alive.

"There's only one suite left." The hotel manager smiled apologetically. "But it's a presidential suite. One bedroom. One king bed."

I looked at Alexander. He didn't even flinch.

"We'll take it."

My face burned. "Alexander, we talked about this. Rule 2-"

"Rule 2 doesn't apply when we're representing the company." His voice was low. Final. "Are you going to make a scene, Mrs. Virel?"

So I followed him.

The suite was insane. Marble bathroom. City view. And in the middle... one massive bed with white silk sheets.

He dropped his suitcase. "You take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

"You sure?"

"Don't flatter yourself." He didn't look at me. "This is business. Nothing more."

That night I lay awake. The bed was big enough for 4 people, but I could feel him on the couch. 10 feet away.

At 3AM, my phone rang. Hospital.

"Miss Santos? Your mother's condition worsened. She needs a new procedure. 500,000 pesos. Tomorrow."

I hung up. Tears fell silently.

"Are you crying?"

Alexander's voice came from the dark.

"No."

A pause. Then the sound of footsteps. He stood by the bed. In just a white shirt and black pants. No tie. No mask.

"About your mother?" he asked quietly.

I nodded.

He sighed. Then, without asking, he sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped.

"She'll be fine." His hand hovered over mine. For a second, I thought he'd hold it.

But he pulled back.

"Because of the contract. Not because I care."

Right. The contract.

He stood up to leave. But at the door, he stopped.

"Stop crying. It’s annoying."

And he closed the door.

But I swear... his voice cracked.

Like maybe... just maybe... this ruthless CEO wasn't as cold as he pretended to be.