Fifty Million Dollar Contract: My Enemy Husband

The heat of that single tear burned Christian's skin like acid.

His entire body jerked. He ripped his mouth away from hers and dropped her wrists. He took a massive step backward, his chest heaving as he dragged air into his lungs. He stared at his hand, then up at her face.

Eloise's knees gave out. She slid down the wall until she hit the hardwood floor. She sat there, pulling her knees to her chest, gasping for breath. She lifted a shaking hand and wiped the blood from her swollen bottom lip. Her eyes looked up at him, filled with absolute terror and defense.

The narrow entryway was dead silent. Only the sound of their ragged breathing filled the space.

Christian looked down at her. The violent storm in his eyes slowly receded, replaced by a thick, impenetrable wall of ice. He forced his posture straight, pulling the cold, calculating billionaire persona back over his fractured soul.

"Stand up," he ordered. His voice was completely devoid of emotion.

Eloise didn't move. She just stared at him.

Christian looked down at her, his jaw tight. "You want fifty million dollars to save your father. Here is my offer. You spend tonight with me. Tomorrow morning, you sign a marriage contract. You do that, and the money hits the Brandt accounts by noon."

Eloise's head snapped up. Her eyes widened in pure shock. "Marriage?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Why? If you want to ruin my life, taking the company is enough."

Christian let out a short, cruel laugh. He leaned down, grabbing her chin again, but this time his touch was clinical. "Don't flatter yourself. A wife is a useful tax shield and a good PR move for the board. It's a business contract. Nothing more."

He let go of her face and stood up straight. He pulled back his cuff and looked at his expensive watch.

"You have sixty seconds to decide," he said coldly. "If you say no, I walk out that door, and your father loses his hospital bed."

The ticking of the vintage clock on the wall sounded like a hammer hitting an anvil. Eloise stared at the floor. Her father's pale face flashed in her mind. The medical bills. The tears on her mother's face.

The seconds bled away. Her stomach twisted so hard she felt physically sick.

At the fifty-ninth second, Eloise closed her eyes. "Yes," she whispered. The word barely made a sound.

Christian's pupils dilated. A fresh wave of anger hit him-anger that she would sell herself so easily, proving every lie he believed about her.

He didn't say a word. He bent down, wrapped one arm behind her knees and the other around her back, and lifted her off the floor.

Eloise gasped at the sudden weightlessness. Her hands instinctively flew up, gripping his broad shoulders to keep from falling.

Christian carried her up the spiraling back staircase. He didn't bother turning on the lights. He kicked open the door to her bedroom.

He walked over to the bed and dropped her onto the mattress. Eloise sank into the soft blankets. Before she could push herself up, Christian was over her. His heavy frame pressed her down into the mattress, caging her in.

He reached up with one hand and yanked his tie loose, tossing it onto the rug. His eyes were pitch black in the dark room, fixed entirely on her face.

Eloise turned her head away. She squeezed her eyes shut. Hot, humiliating tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, soaking into her pillow. Her hands gripped the bedsheets so tightly her knuckles ached.

Christian saw the tears. His hands stopped moving. He reached out, his rough thumb brushing against her cheek, wiping the wetness away. The touch was surprisingly gentle, completely at odds with his harsh words.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice a low whisper. "If you're going to treat this like a job, then do it properly."

Eloise gritted her teeth. She forced her head to turn. She opened her eyes and met his intense gaze. Her eyes were full of broken pride and stubborn defiance.

Christian lowered his head. This time, his mouth didn't punish her. His lips brushed against hers with a suffocating, heavy heat. It was demanding, completely taking over her senses.

His large, warm hand slid under the edge of her silk nightgown. His fingers brushed against her bare stomach. The contrast of his hot skin against her cold flesh made her entire body shiver violently.

Eloise closed her eyes again. She let go of the bedsheets. She stopped fighting. She let herself sink into the dark, terrifying reality of what she had just agreed to.

Outside the window, the neon lights of Manhattan filtered through the gap in the curtains, casting long shadows across the bed. In the quiet darkness, Christian took the woman he had wanted for ten years, using the only method he thought she understood. And Eloise surrendered her life to the man she believed hated her most.