Page 14 of Contract of a Billionaire
And I watched her, savoring the moment. Imagining how she’d feel underneath me.
Autumn’s eyes, now brown, flickered to Branka. A single tear rolled down my sister’s face and my chest squeezed. I’d failed her. My parents failed her. I should have better protected her from my father. Both Mother and her.
“Too sad,” some dick shouted. If he didn’t watch it, he’d end up six feet under. That’d be sad.
Autumn flipped him a bird without missing a beat and continued on. How fucking appropriate that Autumn, at that very moment, sang the words ‘six feet under.’
A terse nod by my sister and she leaned her shoulder onto her best friend. She was her rock. Not me. Not our family. Autumn and her family gave her what I couldn’t. Love and warmth.
The ounce of decency I possessed warned I shouldn’t touch her best friend. She wanted to save the world. I had been destroying it for years. Distribution of arms and drugs was definitely a far cry from saving it.
Yet, even as I had those thoughts, I knew I’d never let her go. After all, it was the reason for my contract. To ensure she’d be mine.
Now that she was back and grown up, nothing would save her from me.
There was no going back.
Chapter5
Autumn
Branka and I against the world.
Another couple of days and we’d hit the road, and it felt right to take the next step together.
Two drinks appeared in front of us. Fleur smiled at us and mouthed, “Non-alcoholic.”
Branka and I shared a glance, then rolled our eyes, but we still murmured our thanks. I was about to stop our playing, but Branka leaned over and whispered, “One more. Please.”
I went through various songs I liked in my mind and finally settled on one. “Okay, one last song and then the two of us have to go.” Some members of the audience protested, others murmured they weren’t ready to be depressed tonight by our choices in song. “Last sad song of the night.”
My fingers moved across the ivory keys as the tune of Halsey’s “Sorry” began to build and like always, goosebumps traveled down my body. Maman said it was a sign of the sensitive, artistic soul. Father’s lips would curve into a smile, but he wouldn’t laugh. He’d never laugh at Maman. Neither would I, but I wasn’t like her.
She was too soft, too romantic. Father appeased her because he loved her so much, but I learned the two of them were an exception in this life. Love like theirs was rare, so I was thankful I got some of my father’s realism.
But it didn’t stop me from wishing for a great love story like my parents had.
The last note of the song traveled through the air and I realized the entire bar was still, everyone’s eyes on me. I let out a soft exhale and smiled.
“The show is over,” I announced. “No more sad songs.” Then I reached for my drink. Branka was already sipping on hers. “Fleur, just so you know,” I said into the microphone, raising my glass and clinking it against the invisible in the air. “We just graduated and have had our share of alcohol. But thank you for keeping us sober and for the apple juice.”
Laughter broke through the room.
Fleur’s lips tugged up. “I know what you two do when you drink, and we don’t need a riot tonight, girls.”
“I’ll buy you drinks.” A slightly drunken voice broke through the chuckle. A man stumbled over to us, his hand reaching for Branka and me. She was quick to stretch backwards to avoid his hand. I wasn’t. I shot up but not before his hand took hold of my ponytail and pulled it tightly. “For a kiss,” he slurred. “And a peek of what’s between your legs.”
“In your fucking dreams,” I sneered. My hands clutched his wrist, my nails digging into his skin as I stared at the man in disbelief. What a creeper!
“Let. Me. Go.” I gritted while he leered at me. My skin crawled with him too close to me. He looked like a dead beat with a muscle shirt on and ripped jeans. Balding head with bushy brows that glistened with sweat.
Instead he tugged on my ponytail even harder, causing me to lose balance and fall backwards.
“Let her go and you’ll only lose your hand. If not, you’ll be dead by morning.”
My eyes whipped in the direction of the deep voice. Where the hell didhecome from?
Alessio Russo stood behind the drunk, muscle shirt guy, the disparity between the two so obvious. Alessio towered above him in his suit, looking drop-dead gorgeous. Like a dream. Geez, I was drooling.
