PREGNANT FOR MY COLD -HEARTED BILLIONAIRE NEIGHBOR BY MELLA

CHAPTER 5: THE DEVIL’S CONTRACT

The silence of Silas Volkov’s penthouse was heavier than any noise in the city below. It was the kind of silence that felt expensive, pressurized and thick with the scent of old money and new power.

I stood in the center of his vast home office, my heels digging into a rug that probably cost more than my father’s entire life savings. Behind the massive obsidian desk, Silas sat. He had traded the silk robe for a crisp, white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that looked like they were carved from granite. He didn't look like a businessman; he looked like a king deciding the fate of a peasant.

"Sit, Elara," he commanded. It wasn't a request.

I sat, my back as straight as a rod. My heart was a frantic bird trapped in my chest, but I refused to let him see me flutter. "The deal. You said a month of my time for my father’s life and the building’s safety."

Silas didn't answer immediately. He picked up a fountain pen, twirling it between his long, elegant fingers. His gaze was a physical weight, tracing the lines of my face until I felt flushed. "A month is the duration. But we haven't discussed the role."

He slid a thick stack of cream-colored paper across the desk. At the top, in bold, minimalist font, were the words: EMPLOYMENT CONTRACT: SPECIAL ASSISTANT TO THE CEO.

"Special assistant?" I echoed, pulling the papers toward me. My eyes blurred as I tried to scan the legal jargon. "I’m a researcher, Silas. I have a degree. I’m not a secretary."

"You are whatever I need you to be," he replied, his voice dropping an octave. "You will be my 'Night Assistant.' On call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. You will handle my schedule, my correspondence, and the details of my life that require... a delicate touch."

I blinked. Twenty-four hours? I have a life. I have a father who needs me.

"Your father has already been moved," Silas interrupted smoothly.

The blood drained from my face. "What? You moved him without telling me?"

"He was transported ten minutes ago via private medical courier to the St. Jude Advanced Care Wing. The best respiratory specialists in the state are currently reviewing his charts. His room is paid for. His treatment is guaranteed. As long as you remain in my employ."

I felt a dizzying mix of relief and terror. He had saved him, but in doing so, he had taken my only leverage. My father was now a guest in Silas’s world.

"And the building?" I whispered.

"The demolition crews have been pulled back. For now. The Royal Vantage project is on hold as long as you fulfill the terms of this contract."

I looked down at the paper. On call 24/7. Residence required at the Volkov Estate or Penthouse as dictated by the CEO.

"You want me to move in?" The words felt like a trap closing.

"Forced proximity is the only way to ensure your 'specialized' talents are available when I require them," Silas said, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "You’ll have your own wing." You’ll have a desk in this office. You will see me every morning, and you will be the last person I speak to every night.

The Terms of Surrender

My stomach twisted. This wasn't a job; it was an acquisition. I wanted to scream. I wanted to take the heavy glass paperweight on his desk and hurl it through one of his floor-to-ceiling windows. But then I remembered the sound of my father’s wheezing lungs, the way he looked when the oxygen ran low. That sound was louder than my pride. It was louder than my fear.

"What happens if I quit?" I asked.

Silas leaned forward, his shadow falling over the contract. "Then the funding for the St. Jude wing was pulled. The demolition crews return to your building within the hour. And I will personally ensure that no hospital in this tri-state area accepts your father’s insurance."

The cruelty was so casual it made me shiver. He wasn't even angry; he was just stating facts.

"You're a monster," I breathed.

"I'm a man who gets what he wants, Elara. And I’ve decided I want you where I can see you."

I picked up the pen. My hand shook, but I forced it still. I thought of the flash drive still hidden in my apartment. I thought of the donor list I had stolen. Silas hadn't mentioned it again, which made me more nervous than if he had demanded it back. He was playing a longer game than I understood.

I signed my name at the bottom of the final page.

Elara Vance.

The ink was black and permanent, looking like a bloodstain on the expensive paper.

The Scent of a Memory

Silas didn't wait for me to hand him the papers. He stood and walked around the desk, his presence filling the room until the air felt thin. I stood up to meet him, refusing to be towered over, though he still had half a foot on me.

He reached out, taking the contract from my hand. His fingers brushed against mine, and the jolt of electricity was so sharp I almost gasped. He didn't pull away. Instead, he stepped closer, invading the small bubble of space I had left.

He was so close I could see the flecks of silver in his slate-gray eyes. He leaned down, his head dipping toward the crook of my neck.

I froze. I should have moved back, but my feet felt like they were lead.

Silas took a deep, slow breath. I watched his jaw tighten, the muscles leaping beneath his skin. For a long, agonizing second, the room felt like it was tilting.

"Violet and rain," he murmured, his voice a low growl that vibrated against my skin.

My heart stopped. That was my perfume. The rare, vintage scent my mother had left me. I had worn it only once in the last year to the masquerade.

Silas pulled back just an inch, his eyes darkening until they were almost black. The cold, calculating CEO was gone, replaced by something raw and hungry. He looked at me not as an assistant, but as a predator who looks at a mystery he has finally begun to unravel.

He knew.

He didn't say it, but the way he looked at my lips told me everything. He remembered the girl in the mask. He remembered the way she tasted, the way she moved, and the way she had dared to run from him.

"Welcome to the team, Miss Vance," he whispered, his gaze dropping to the contract in his hand as if he were holding a trophy. "I suggest you go pack. Your new life starts at midnight."

I turned and fled the room, the sound of my own frantic pulse drowning out the city. I had signed the devil's contract, and now, I was realizing that the devil didn't just want my work.

He wanted the girl who had broken his heart in the dark