Contract Marriage With My Billionaire Boss

VENUS

My alarm blared, jolting me awake from the uncomfortable position I had fallen asleep in. My neck ached, my back protested, and my mind was already racing.

I lay still for a moment, staring at the cracked ceiling. Did I really agree to this?

The question looped in my head like a broken record. Did I really make the right choice?

I groaned and rubbed my eyes, forcing myself to sit up. I was doing this for Mom. I'd do anything for her. Anything.

Dragging myself out of bed, I went about my morning routine like a zombie. A quick shower, hair pulled into a messy bun, and makeup kept minimal—just enough to look alive. I slipped into a plain white shirt and an ash-grey skirt—one of the few decent outfits I'd managed to afford since I started working at Sinclair Tech. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was clean and presentable.

I checked the clock. Only five minutes left if I wanted to make it on time. Great.

Grabbing a granola bar from the nearly empty kitchen shelf, I rushed to the door. But when I opened it, I came to an abrupt stop. I was blocked by someone.

Billy.

"Bi—Billy?" I stammered, my heart skipping a beat.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, eyes cold. He owned the casino where my father, Dain, loved to gamble, get drunk, and bury his problems in white powder. This wouldn’t be his first time showing up at our place to collect a debt. And he always made my skin crawl. The way he looked at me? It gave me the creeps.

"Where’s Dain?" he gruffed, rubbing his scruffy beard.

"I don’t know," I replied quickly, stepping slightly back.

"He owes me money."

That can’t be right. He took all my whole savings yesterday. What the hell did he use it for, then?

"Like I said, I don’t know where he is. I kicked his drunken ass out last night."

Billy’s eyes narrowed slightly. "That so?"

"Look, Billy, I have somewhere to be, and I’m already running late."

He gave me a slow once-over, raising a brow before licking his lips in that disgusting way that made me want to gag.

"One day, Venus," he muttered, like a warning—or a promise I wanted nothing to do with—before walking away.

I slammed the door shut and locked it, chest heaving. Disgusting creep.

When I stepped outside and began walking to the main road, a car sped by, splashing a puddle of dirty water all over me.

"Asshole!" I screamed, but the driver didn’t stop or even glance back.

I looked down at my soaked clothes and groaned. I couldn’t walk into Sinclair Tech looking like this. I didn’t even have anything clean to change into. I hadn’t gotten around to doing my laundry this week.

Frustrated and wet, I went back inside and tore through my closet. Finally, I found an old sweater tucked in the back. It was faded, a little baggy, but dry and warm. It would have to do.

With no time left to mope, I hurried back outside and managed to hail a cab. But of course, traffic was an absolute nightmare. Cars crawled at a snail’s pace, horns blaring like a symphony of doom.

It was almost like the universe was throwing every obstacle at me. One final warning. One last chance to back out of the deal I’d made with the devil.

But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. This was for Mom. She needed me to do this.

I arrived twenty minutes late. Not the best impression to make on the first day of your fake engagement.

Sinclair Tech’s lobby was intimidating—marble floors, modern furniture, and pristine glass everywhere. The receptionist glanced at me and gave a polite smile. I forced one back and rushed to the elevator.

My heart pounded harder with every floor the elevator climbed. I adjusted my sweater, took a deep breath, and stepped out on the top floor.

The door to the executive conference room was already open.

Connor sat on the far side of the table, sipping coffee like he hadn’t a care in the world. Aaron stood by the window, suit perfectly tailored, arms crossed, exuding power and ice.

He turned when I entered. Our eyes met.

He looked at me, really looked, and something in his expression shifted for a fraction of a second before he masked it behind his usual cool detachment.

"You're late," he said, voice low and measured.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Traffic."

Connor raised a brow. "Or cold feet?"

"Neither," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I said I’d do this, and I meant it."

Aaron walked slowly toward me, closing the distance until he stood just inches away. I had to tilt my head to look up at him. The scent of his cologne made my stomach twist. It was unfair that a man so infuriating could smell so good.

He didn’t speak. Just stared.

"We'll draft the terms today," he said finally. "You’ll move in by the end of the week. Appearances matter, and if anyone suspects this is fake, we both lose."

Connor leaned back, amused. "So romantic already."

Aaron ignored him. "We'll set ground rules. You’ll attend dinners, events, whatever’s necessary. I’ll handle the media. You just smile and look like you’re hopelessly in love with me. Think you can manage that?"

I lifted my chin. "Do I get a say in the rules?"

His lips curved slightly, not quite a smile, more like a smirk. "We’ll see."

Connor stood and clapped his hands. "Well, this should be fun. Shall we get started, lovebirds?"

My heart thundered in my chest as I took a seat across from Aaron.

I was really doing this. Becoming his wife for three years.

All for my mother.

And maybe, just maybe, for something more I hadn’t fully admitted to myself yet.