Page 96 of The Contract

“I clawed my way out of there,” I continue, my voice quieter now.

“Finance. Mergers. Acquisitions. Turning failing companies into powerhouses. I built everything I have from the ground up.”

Silence stretches between us, but it’s not empty.

It’s full.

When I look at her, I expect pity, maybe sympathy—but all I see is warmth.

Something deep. Something real.

Like she sees beyond the ruthless, untouchable man I’ve spent years crafting—the one people fear, the one who doesn’t break, doesn’t bend.

Like she sees the boy I once was.

And fuck if I don’t want to throw these shoes down, take her in my arms, and kiss her until there’s nothing left between us but this thing we both refuse to name.

As if the universe itself is conspiring against me, the sky opens up.

A torrential downpour hammers down in an instant, soaking us to the bone within seconds.

Elena gasps, laughing as she shrinks into herself, hands lifting in a useless attempt to shield herself from the rain.

Water streams down her shoulders, her dark hair already flattened against her skin.

“Let’s run for it!” I call out, offering my hand.

She doesn’t hesitate.

Her fingers slip into mine, gripping tightly. She pulls her dress up with the other, and together, we take off across the beach, our feet kicking up sand as we sprint toward the bungalow.

Her laughter follows us, mixing with the steady rhythm of the rain, and for once, I’m not thinking about business, deals, or the next move I have to make.

I’m just here.

Running through the rain, laughing with a woman who is completely unraveling me.

By the time we reach the deck, we’re both drenched, water dripping from our clothes, our hair, our skin.

Elena lifts the hem of her gown as we take the stairs, but the slick wood betrays her.

She slips with a curse, and my hands fly out to catch her.

Our shoes are forgotten, clattering on the ground around us.

My arms wrap around her waist, anchoring her against me before she can fall.

Her hands clutch at my chest, her breath shallow and uneven.

Now, we’re too close.

But not nearly as close as I want us.

The sound of the rain fades into the background, drowned out by the pounding of my pulse.

Her dress clings to her like a second skin, the soft fabric molding to the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts.

Water drips from her lips, down the line of her throat, trailing over her collarbone.

---