The Contract

Vivienne POV

I had to run. I had to escape the suffocating horror of what I had just witnessed through that slightly parted window. Stumbling blindly away from the sickening sounds of Pierce thrusting his penis into that giggling woman, my mind spun in a chaotic, dizzying frenzy. The man I thought I was going to marry was nothing but a bloodsucking parasite aiming for my dying father's empire. With my heart racing erratically in my chest, slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird, I found my way out to the cold, isolated expanse of the balcony. And there he was.

I bravely faced the intimidating man who was standing there, the stark shadows of the night perfectly framing his towering, broad-shouldered physique. Roman Lexington. He was a full nine years my senior, a twenty-eight-year-old billionaire who commanded every room he entered, and right now, he was my absolute only lifeline. The chilly wind whipped around us, but the air between our bodies felt dangerously thick. I had to negotiate the strict terms of our desperate arrangement right here, right now. My father's life and our massive corporate legacy depended on it.

With my racing heartbeats and quickening breaths, I desperately tried to frame my first questions, fighting the violent trembling in my jaw. I looked sharply into his dark, calculating eyes, instantly feeling a rush of cold goosebumps erupting behind my ears and racing down my spine. My brain ran wild, cycling through all the terrifying, unpredictable things a man with his ruthless reputation could do to me.

Gulping silently, I forced myself to nod, momentarily lowering my gaze to collect every ounce of my remaining strength before asking the second question.

"For those six months, will we share the same bed?" I asked, raising my chin to meet his intense gaze.

He looked straight into my eyes, his handsome, chiseled expression completely unreadable. There was no flicker of amusement, no hint of pity. He slowly sucked on his lower lip, lowering his dark gaze for a brief, agonizing second before locking his eyes back onto mine.

"It will be exclusive if that is what you mean to ask," he stated smoothly.

I bit down on my own lip, my brow furrowing as I tried to process the absolute weight of his words. "Means?"

He stepped half an inch closer, his voice dropping into a low, commanding register that vibrated straight through the cold air. "I will pretend being your husband in public, and you will pretend being my wife in my bed."

He delivered the heavy words without a single tint of shame or hesitation. I suddenly blinked nervously, feeling incredibly timid and small under the crushing weight of his dominance. Lowering my gaze to the dark fabric of his expensive coat, my fingers involuntarily fisted into the heavy wool, seeking some sort of anchor in this spiraling madness. I tried to push further, needing absolute clarity.

"In the bed means being physically involved?" I choked out.

He nodded silently, his face a mask of pure stone. "Yes," he replied dryly.

My brows thinned in deep confusion. "But, why exclusive? I mean, it's supposed to be only a six-month fake marriage, a purely business-driven setup. You can have whatever you want with any girl, and I will not have any problem with that." I nervously questioned the absolute need for exclusivity and physical intimacy, the deep-seated fear settling securely into my bones.

He coldly reminded me of the massive stakes hanging over our heads. "Then what is the absolute point of this marriage? With such loose terms, you might as well tie the knot with Pierce and let him bleed you dry for a lifetime." His sharp words cut through my naive logic like a freshly honed blade. I lowered my gaze in shame. He was entirely right. I didn't know what the hell I was saying.

"Okay..." I trailed off, inhaling deeply to steady my shaking lungs. "But I loved Pierce, and I don't love you. There is a massive difference. And, it's a fake marriage."

"Only for us, not for the world," he countered flawlessly. "If the media finds any of us stepping out, if they catch either of us dating outside our marriage, it will be a hell of a lot of trouble. It would spell utter disaster for both our companies' stock prices."

I swallowed hard, silently nodding as I fully understood his cold, calculated logic. But I wasn't going to just hand myself over without getting exactly what I needed to survive the aftermath. I boldly presented my own condition to balance the scales.

"Okay, but I have one absolute condition," I stated, my voice finally finding a shred of solid ground.

"Tell me," he demanded softly.

"In exchange for this highly exclusive marriage, you will have to help me understand the business. You have to personally teach me the ins and outs of the corporate world."

He stared at me for a long, heavy moment. He sucked thoughtfully on his lower lip, his dark brows thinning slightly as he calculated the cost of my demand. Then, he delivered a counteroffer that sent a violent shockwave straight through my entire nervous system.

"For helping you understand the business, you will obey everything I will ask you to do in our bedroom," he commanded, his deep voice dripping with a raw, undeniable authority.

I gulped nervously, my breath completely hitching in my throat. He was talking with the blunt, unapologetic demand of a man who took exactly what he wanted. Unwantedly, a treacherous heat flared between my thighs, my core growing slightly wet at the heavy, dominant weight of his explicit words. I forcefully pressed my thighs together, desperately trying to suppress my body's shameful reaction to him.

"Not every day," I tried to negotiate, my voice sounding embarrassingly weak.

He inhaled deeply, his broad chest expanding against his tailored shirt. "Every fucking day," he stated with absolute, terrifying finality.

My knees visibly trembled beneath the fabric of my dress. I felt entirely weak, stripped of all my defenses. "You will ruin me by the end of six months," I breathed out, the horrific reality of the contract settling heavily onto my shoulders.

He sucked on his lips momentarily, entirely unfazed by my visible terror. "Third question?" he prompted smoothly.

I gulped nervously, deciding to dare and push the boundaries further. "Do you believe in love?" I paused, taking a deep, ragged inhale. "What if you or I inevitably end up falling... in love?"

He immediately stood up straighter, his towering frame shutting the very notion down with ruthless, cold efficiency.

"No love. Exclusive marriage for Six months. I will help you understand the business and transfer all the shares of your company to you, and we will ruin Pierce together. Deal or no deal?" He looked down at me with piercing intensity, casually slipping his expensive phone into his pocket.

The harsh reality slammed into me. I stood frozen, my heartbeats running wild and my palms slick with cold sweat. I didn't know how any of this crazy arrangement could genuinely work. The thought of getting under a dominant, demanding man I could not even love, obeying his every sexual whim, made me feel incredibly frightened. But my beloved father's rapidly failing health left me absolutely no time to search for another viable solution. The marriage absolutely couldn't be postponed.

Closing my eyes, I forcefully swallowed my fear, suppressing all my dark doubts, and nodded my head slightly.

"Deal," I whispered.

I looked at him as he stepped slightly closer to me. "It's late. I will drop you home," he offered smoothly.

I inhaled deeply, nodding in agreement. He respectfully placed his large, warm hand gently on my shaking shoulder, surprisingly sending a slight wave of much-needed comfort traveling through my shivering body. He began to escort me out of the private area, leading me back through the dimly lit gallery. But as we neared the horrible hotel room where Pierce was currently defiling that woman, I suddenly stopped in my tracks.

"Wait!" I snapped, and he immediately looked down at me. "Can you wait for me in the parking?" I asked in a slow, determined voice.

He gave a curt nod. "As you say," he agreed smoothly, silently walking away and leaving me standing alone in the middle of the long gallery.

I inhaled deeply, actively collecting every single ounce of my remaining strength, and marched straight toward the door of that living nightmare. Closing my eyes momentarily to steel my shattered nerves, I knocked hard on the heavy wood and stood my ground. When there was no immediate response for two agonizing minutes, I pounded my fist against the door again. Finally, I heard the muffled, faded sound of a woman giggling from the other side.

"Coming!" a female voice chirped.

The door was forcefully pushed open, and I found myself staring directly at the exact same giggling girl who had just been riding my supposedly devoted fiancé. I forced a tight, incredibly fake smile onto my face.

"Is Pierce here?" I asked sharply.

Her heavily painted brows thinned in genuine confusion, and she tried to shake her head to deny it. I didn't give her a single second to lie. I immediately shoved her aside, pushing past her lingering form, and stranded right into the center of the messy, sex-smelling room.

"Vivienne!" Pierce yelled, caught completely off guard. He frantically scrambled across the mattress, wildly grabbing at the tangled comforter to cover his nakedness.

"No... no, don't worry," I stated coldly, aggressively shaking my head as I looked at the pathetic, cheating bastard. "I didn't come to disturb you."

He completely ignored my cold tone, practically stumbling out of the bed as he dragged the blanket with him. "Vivienne! I am sorry. I didn't mean to... I was just. I am drunk... I am incredibly sorry..." His drunken, slurred apologies spilled from his mouth, meaning absolutely nothing to me now.

I looked at him with pure, unadulterated disgust. "I just wanted to let you know that we are no longer getting married," I told him, effectively slicing through his pathetic begging.

Turning on my heel, I marched back toward the open doorway, completely ignoring his frantic calls. Glancing with pure disdain at the half-naked girl still standing in shock by the entrance, I snapped sharply, "You can continue, bitch!"

I stormed out of the suite, leaving the shattered pieces of my fake romance rotting on the carpet behind me. When I came down to the underground parking lot, Roman was leaning comfortably against his sleek Mercedes Maybach, casually scrolling through his phone. He lifted his dark gaze the moment he heard the sharp, angry noise of my heels echoing on the concrete. He offered a slight, tight-lipped smile and politely opened the passenger door for me. I inhaled profoundly, sinking into the luxurious leather seat.

The tears were aggressively pricking the lids of my eyes again, ready to fall hot and heavy down my cheeks at any given moment. Still, thankfully, Roman sat in the driver's seat in absolute, heavy silence. He started the engine and drove me through the empty city streets without attempting any pointless conversation.

A hell of a lot had happened in the span of a few short hours, but the real, excruciating struggle was going to begin the second I had to look into my dying father's eyes and tell him about all this. But in any condition, I absolutely could not let him know the harsh reality of the six-month business contract. He would be completely devastated to realize he was leaving me in a fake marriage, and his immense stress levels would immediately skyrocket.

"Here we are," Roman announced quietly, smoothly pulling the expensive car into the long driveway of my family's massive mansion.

Inhaling tiredly, I turned my head to look at his sharp profile. "I think we should tell my father about it tonight," I said.

He gulped slightly, giving a firm nod as he unfastened his seat belt and then reached over to unfasten mine. Pushing his door open, he walked around the hood to open my door like a perfect gentleman. I looked at his large, extended hand and silently placed my trembling fingers into his warm palm.

"Do you really think he will agree?" I asked, my voice laced with heavy anxiety.

He looked deeply into my eyes, his confidence radiating in the cool night air. "Does he have any solid reasons to deny?" he asked simply.

I lowered my gaze, entirely unable to answer that. I only lifted my eyes back up when I felt his warm hand gently caressing my shoulder, somehow filling my exhausted spirit with a small sliver of hope and positivity through his intense stare.

"I am coming right behind you," he assured me.

I gulped nervously and began the heavy walk inside the quiet mansion. Because the top-tier doctors had entirely raised their hands in defeat due to my father's last-stage cancer, we were keeping him here, managing his extreme pain at home. The sterile, medical-smelling pieces of life-support equipment and private nurses were available around the clock. I walked slowly past the grand hall and down the long gallery, finally reaching the heavy mahogany door of his room. I tightened my trembling fist on the brass handle.

Collecting every drop of courage I had left, I pushed the door open and stepped into the sterile, beeping room. I looked at the fragile man lying incredibly still on the large bed. The night nurse, who had slightly dozed off in the corner chair, woke up at the soft noise of the door and immediately looked at me.

"Miss Caldwell," she whispered respectfully.

I nodded silently and signaled her to stay seated. I walked slowly toward my father's bedside.

"Papa," I called out in a slow, gentle voice.

He shifted tiredly, lazily opening his sunken eyes. His pale face had swelled up even more than the last time I saw him just this morning. It physically broke my heart.

"Viv," he croaked out in his slow, incredibly painful voice. I absolutely couldn't help but let the hot tears finally pool in my eyes.

Sitting gently on the edge of his mattress, I forced a warm smile and asked him about his pain levels. Then, I tearfully confessed the heavily edited truth. I told him straight out that Pierce was a cheating scumbag. I watched my father's heart rate monitor spike slightly in distress. But before he could panic, I immediately smoothed it over, boldly lying that I was marrying Roman Lexington instead. The only major difference in my story was that I carefully and deliberately hid the harsh reality of the contract, painting Roman as a loving partner who had swept in to save me.

My father turned visibly tense at the shocking news, but he clearly knew exactly who the powerful Roman Lexington was. His swollen expressions didn't look overly joyous, but the deep panic in his eyes slowly receded.

"Is he... ready to manage the company?" my father asked, his voice terribly shaky.

I sucked on my lower lip, committing fully to the massive lie. "Yes, papa."

I absolutely could not make his final days any worse than they already were. He closed his exhausted eyes and weakly rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand.

"It's good then," he breathed out tiredly.

I leaned in closer. "He has come to meet you too," I told him in a soft voice.

My father gulped weakly and opened his eyes again just as I turned my head. "Mr. Lexington," I called out.

The bedroom door pushed open, and Roman entered the room perfectly on cue. He was holding a massive, beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers, and my exhausted brain briefly wondered how the hell he managed to procure such a perfect arrangement at this ridiculous hour of the night. He flawlessly played the role of the devoted, smitten fiancé, walking smoothly toward us and gently placing the flowers on the medical side table.

"Mr. Caldwell, how are you feeling tonight?" Roman asked, his deep voice incredibly warm and respectful.

My father looked up at the towering billionaire, a faint, genuine smile touching his cracked lips. "Feeling a little better after hearing that you accepted to marry my beloved daughter. I am immensely grateful for your extreme favor, and I wish you take the CGC to entirely new heights," my father stated slowly, visibly putting excruciating effort into stringing each word together.

Roman gently touched my father's frail hand with absolute assurance, nodding his head. "Who can deny a girl like Vivienne," he charmed smoothly, his charismatic smile putting my father's anxious mind entirely at ease.

My father nodded tiredly, his chest rising and falling in a much calmer rhythm as he finally closed his eyes to rest. Roman looked across the bed at me, and I gave him a small, silent nod, signaling that he could leave us.

After Roman slipped out of the room, I chose to stay huddled in the chair beside my father's bed. The night felt impossibly long, but I knew deep down that the nights would only get longer and much darker from tomorrow onwards. I had literally agreed to become a highly powerful billionaire's obedient bedroom toy for six solid months. I didn't know what degrading, explicit things he would forcefully command me to do with him every single fucking day. But I was absolutely sure of one thing: I desperately wanted these six months to pass by as fast as humanly possible.

My father never had true faith in my business skills. He never believed I could ruthlessly manage a billion-dollar company on my own; that was exactly why he was so incredibly desperate to marry me off to a capable man before he died. But through this twisted, highly exclusive deal with Roman, I would finally have the chance to prove my worth to the entire corporate world.

Amid the chaotic storm of thousands of dreadful thoughts racing through my brain, I didn't even realize when my exhausted body finally gave out and I fell asleep in the uncomfortable hospital chair.

The next morning, I was violently jolted awake by a firm hand shaking my shoulder. I blinked my heavy eyes open to see one of our house helps standing over me, hastily handing me the ringing receiver of the hallway telephone.

"He strictly wants to talk to you," she whispered urgently.

I thinned my brows in deep confusion, my sleep-addled brain struggling to catch up. Taking the plastic receiver and pressing it to my ear, I spoke slowly. "Hello?"

"Good morning, little Viv," Roman's deep, gravelly voice echoed through the line.

Hearing that dark, commanding tone sent a fierce, unexpected shiver straight down my spine. I immediately stood up from the chair and practically ran out of my sleeping father's room into the empty hallway.

"Mr. Lexington," I breathed out.

"I did not want to disturb your sleep, but I wanted to know exactly what time you will be ready so that I can pull up and pick you up," he stated efficiently.

I immediately pulled my cell phone from my pocket and my eyes widened in shock to see that it was already 11:15 in the morning. Time was violently slipping through my fingers.

"Umm, by exactly 3 PM," I rushed to say, frantically recalling the strict appointment time we had booked for the private church ceremony.

"All right. I will see you very soon then," he replied smoothly, clicking the line dead.

I shoved the receiver back onto the wall hook and sprinted blindly toward my own bedroom. The countdown had officially started.

After jumping into a frantic, scalding hot shower, I opened my bedroom doors to welcome the hired makeup artist who had just arrived for her urgent appointment. She immediately went to work, aggressively pinning my hair, applying layer after layer of flawless makeup, and finally helping me step into the dress. She meticulously laced me into a beautiful, slightly transparent white bridal gown that clung tightly to my curves and featured a dramatically long, heavy tail that swept across the hardwood floor.

Staring blindly at my own pale, terrified reflection in the full-length mirror, my vision blurred as hot tears aggressively filled my eyes. The heavy, suffocating reality of my desperate situation finally settled over my shoulders like a lead blanket. It was supposed to be the absolute biggest, happiest day of a woman's life, and yet, how deeply unfortunate and tragic it was that my sick, bedridden father couldn't even physically walk me down the church aisle. But I furiously blinked the tears away, sternly reminding my reflection that this was a strictly necessary sacrifice.

This beautiful white dress was nothing but a costume. This entire wedding was just a cold, calculated contract to ruthlessly ruin Pierce's life, play the dutiful, obedient role of Roman's wife in public and in his bed, and ultimately reclaim my stolen company.

The house help gently knocked on the door frame, softly informing me that Roman's car had officially arrived to pick me up. I inhaled deeply, heavily filling my shaking lungs with air as I prepared to walk out and take the absolute biggest, most dangerous step of my young life. I had absolutely no idea where I would be standing when this vicious contract finally ended. But as I picked up the heavy skirts of my transparent gown, I was certain of only one terrifying thing: I would be entirely ruined by him in these six fucking months.