Page 34 of The Contract

And I don’t want to hear it.

That she wouldn’t have slept with me.

That last night was a mistake.

That she regrets it.

I step toward her, cutting her off before she can say another fucking word. “It doesn’t matter.”

Her hazel eyes flick to mine, sharp and assessing. “I just meant?—”

I tilt my head slightly, keeping my expression unreadable. “You don’t need to explain anything, Elena. We were two strangers enjoying the night. It’s irrelevant now.”

She studies me carefully, as if trying to see if I really mean that.

I give her nothing.

Because if she sees how much her leaving pissed me off, I lose.

And I don’t lose.

Eventually, she exhales, nodding once.

Something about the way she does it feels too much like relief, and that only irritates me more.

She straightens her shoulders, all business now. “Then let’s be clear on the terms of our arrangement.” She sets her purse down deliberately.

“No intimacy,” she states. “No kissing. My contracts have never included that aspect, and I see no reason to change my terms now.”

My eyes glance at her mouth on instinct.

No kissing.

It shouldn’t bother me.

Hell, I specifically requested no intimacy as well—that this remain professional.

So why does it feel like a challenge?

Like she’s daring me to see how long I can last before breaking that rule?

I keep my expression easy as I pour two glasses of wine, handing one to her.

She’s careful not to let our fingers brush as she takes it.

A moment of silence passes.

Then, I lift my glass, smirking slightly. “Understood. This should be an easy two weeks,” I murmur, my voice dripping with irony, “with a big payout at the end for both of us.”

Elena meets my gaze, tilting her glass in return.

But we both know the truth.

This won’t be easy.

And it sure as hell won’t be clean.

The scent of fresh coffee drifts through the penthouse, mixing with the faint remnants of her perfume—vanilla and something warmer, something I still can’t place.

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