Page 6 of Billionaire Alien Boss Daddy

Consequences. The word hangs in the air between us, heavy with unspoken meaning. I feel my cheeks flush, and I look back down at the contract, pretending to read as I try to steady my breathing. This is supposed to be a ruse, a means to an end. So why does the thought of disappointing him make my stomach twist?

"Anything else I should be aware of?" I ask, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me.

Simon’s gaze doesn’t waver. "Sign the contract, and you’ll find out." He leans back again, all casual confidence, like he already knows what I’m going to do. Like he already owns me.

And damn it all, part of me wants him to.

The pen hovers over the paper, my hand steady despite the storm brewing inside me. I glance up one last time—a calculated move, a show of deliberation—before lowering the pen to sign. The ink glides across the page, smooth and inevitable. But just as my signature starts to take shape, his voice cuts through the silence like a blade.

"Wait."

My hand freezes mid-stroke, the pen trembling ever so slightly. I look up, and Simon’s gaze pins me in place. There’s something in his eyes—sharp, unrelenting—that makes my stomach twist.

"I must make certain you understand what your contract entails before you sign it, Ms. Redding."

His voice is low, a rumble that vibrates through the room and settles deep in my chest. I swallow hard, forcing my nerves to steady. "I just read through it, Sir. I understand the terms."

He leans forward, his elbows resting on the desk, and those gray eyes bore into mine. "I’m not talking about the words on the page. I’m talking about thespiritof the contract."

I tilt my chin up, refusing to flinch under his scrutiny. "I understand, Sir."

"Do you?" he challenges, his voice dropping even lower. "If you sign this, your opportunities will be boundless. But it’s up to you to seize them. I won’t hand them to you. You’ll have to earn every single one."

"I understand, Sir," I repeat, my voice firm despite the heat creeping up my neck.

Simon doesn’t look away. His gaze is relentless, like he’s trying to peel back every layer of pretense I’ve built up over the years. "And once you sign your name," he continues, his tone slow and deliberate, "you belong to me. You aremine.Until you fail me or decide you can’t handle the pressure."

The words hang in the air, heavy and electric. I feel a warmth pooling low in my belly, a sensation I can’t quite control. My legs tense, thighs pressing together as if that could somehow ground me. His words echo in my head, twisting my thoughts into something I’m not ready to examine.

"I won’t fail you, Sir," I say firmly, despite the storm inside me. "And whatever you give me, I can take it."

His lips curve into the faintest hint of a smirk, and he nods, satisfied. "Good. Sign it."

The pen moves again, my signature flowing across the page. I hand the contract back to him, and he reviews it with the precision of a man who doesn’t miss a single detail. Then he signs his own name with a flourish, tucking the document away in the top drawer of his desk.

He picks up the phone, his movements deliberate and unhurried. "Kenneth? Bring the car around out front, now."

He hangs up without waiting for a response and looks at me, his expression unreadable. "Get up."

"Where are we going?" The question slips out before I can stop it, and his brow arches in a silent rebuke. My cheeks flush, and I quickly correct myself. "Yes, Sir."

I rise from the chair, my legs feeling strangely unsteady, and he’s suddenly there, standing so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body. His hand lands on the small of my back, and I stiffen for a moment before forcing myself to relax.

"Do not disappoint me, Clarice," he murmurs, his breath brushing against my ear. The low, menacing tone thrills me. "It would be a shame if I had to discipline you on your first day."

His hand presses gently but firmly, guiding me toward the door. I move with him, my heart pounding in my chest. The thought of disappointing him twists my stomach—but beneath that, there’s something else, something I don’t want to acknowledge.

As we step out of his office, I can’t help but think that the idea of discipline doesn’t sound so bad after all.

CHAPTER3

SHOMUN

My hand tingles where it rests against the small of her back. The silk of her blouse does nothing to mask her body heat. I guide her into the rear of my limousine, fighting the urge to let my fingers linger.

"Thank you, Sir." Her voice carries a hint of Louisiana in its cadence.

I slide in beside her, maintaining professional distance. The leather seat creaks beneath my weight. Even with the image inducer making me appear human, I still mass the same as a Vakutan warrior.

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