Page 52 of Contract of a Billionaire
Since the day he barged into my pink and frilly bedroom, I had waited for him. Nobody had ever made my body buzz by their sheer presence. It only took him a single look to awaken something dormant inside of me and I was his.
Forever his.
Through gasping sobs, I attempted to draw oxygen into my lungs. I couldn’t.
I was so fucking scared I’d choke on my own sobs. My body shook. My ribs hurt. And my throat squeezed so painfully, I couldn’t breathe.
A knock.
I instantly swallowed my sobs. What if it was Alessio? Did he see me?
Another knock.
“Autumn?” I heard Branka’s voice. Another knock followed. “Open the door, Autumn. I can hear you.”
I didn’t want to move. I couldn’t explain to her what I had seen. This grief was swallowing me whole. I had to pull myself out.
The door shook and I shifted away from it so Branka could enter. Every fiber of me hurt. My muscles. My organs. Everything.
But most of all my heart and I didn’t know the first thing about how to patch it up.
“Oh my gosh.” Branka’s arms wrapped around me, running soothing circles on my back. “What happened? I thought you went to see your mysterious stranger.”
I leaned my head against her chest and another wave of choking sobs came. I couldn’t breathe. I needed him. My stupid heart wanted him even after what I’d just seen.
There wasn’t enough glue in this world to piece my heart back together. But Alessandro Russo had another thing coming if he thought I’d leave Abu Dhabi without doing some damage to him.
Chapter18
Alessio
Iwoke up with a familiar taste in my mouth.
The kind I hadn’t had to endure for almost two decades.
Panic. Shame. Disgust.
I blinked, the numbness in my limbs and the blackout in my memory confirming my suspicion that I’d been drugged.
When I got my hands on who dared to do this, I’d fucking kill them. I’d tear them limb from fucking limb.
It couldn’t be my father. He wouldn’t dare. Besides, I hadn’t seen him.
I waited until my sight cleared before I glanced at the clock.
Nineteen hundred hours. Military time.
It was seven at night.
Autumn.She should be here by now. I inhaled deeply. There was no scent of her. Usually her fall scent lingered in the air long after she was gone. It remained on my skin, on my clothes, and on my hair.
Nothing. Only a heavy Chanel No. 5 that I despised.
Foreboding slammed into me. Right along with the sheer terror.
I shot up, bile burning my throat like acid. I rolled right on time to throw up whatever lingered in my stomach, retching up a thin stream of vomit. Just like before.
I paused, letting the room settle around me. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled in warning. I took two steps into the bedroom of the hotel suite. She wasn’t there. Bathroom. Not there.
