Rejecting The Billionaire's Contract Marriage

Carra pushed through the heavy glass doors of the club and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The Los Angeles sky had broken open. A freezing, torrential downpour lashed against the pavement. She ignored the rain. She pulled out her phone and opened a hotel booking app. She needed a room. She needed a bed where she could scream into a pillow. She selected a cheap motel and hit pay. Transaction Declined. Carra frowned. She wiped the rain off her screen and tried again. Card Frozen. Please contact your administrator. Her breath caught. The credit card was a corporate card, issued by Vance's management team. The apartment they shared was leased under his LLC. She was homeless. She had absolutely nothing. The black Maybach glided to a stop right in front of her, its tires hissing on the wet asphalt. The rear window rolled down. "Get in the car, Carra," Jory ordered, his voice cutting through the sound of the rain. "Stop making a scene on the street." Carra gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. "I don't need your charity," she yelled over the storm. "I don't need another liar controlling my life!" Jory's jaw tightened. He didn't argue. He kicked his door open and stepped out into the pouring rain. He didn't bother with an umbrella. He closed the distance between them in three massive strides. Before Carra could scream, he bent down, wrapped his arm around the back of her knees, and hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. "Put me down!" Carra shrieked, pounding her fists against his solid back. Jory ignored her. He dumped her unceremoniously into the back seat of the Maybach and climbed in after her, slamming the door shut. "Privacy screen," Jory snapped. The soundproof glass partition between them and the driver immediately slid up. Carra was shivering violently. Her thin dress was plastered to her skin. Jory stripped off his wet suit jacket and threw it over her head. The heavy fabric smelled of him, warm and masculine. The car sped through the city, diving into the underground parking garage of the most expensive skyscraper in Century City. Jory dragged her out of the car and into a private elevator that required his fingerprint to operate. The doors opened directly into a massive penthouse. The walls were all floor-to-ceiling glass, overlooking the glittering, rain-swept city. The furniture was cold, sharp, and minimalist. It looked like a museum, not a home. A terrified housekeeper rushed out. "Run a hot bath. Now," Jory ordered, loosening his tie and ripping it from his neck. Carra threw his wet jacket onto a white leather sofa. "Who do you think you are?" Carra screamed, the anger finally boiling over. "You think because you have money you can just kidnap people?" Jory walked over to a crystal decanter and poured two glasses of whiskey. "You couldn't even afford a cab," Jory mocked, his voice lethal. "Your freedom is currently worth zero dollars." Carra saw red. "You're exactly like him!" she yelled, marching right up to him. She poked her index finger hard into the center of his chest. "You're just a capitalist pig who uses women as chess pieces to fix your stock prices!" Jory's eyes went completely black. The air in the room suddenly felt too thin to breathe. He dropped his glass. It shattered on the hardwood floor. He grabbed her wrist, twisting it behind her back, and slammed her against the freezing glass of the floor-to-ceiling window. Carra gasped, her chest heaving against his. Outside, the storm raged. Inside, the silence was deafening. Jory lowered his head. He didn't ask for permission. He crashed his mouth down onto hers. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a punishment. It was raw, aggressive, and entirely consuming. Carra fought him. She thrashed against his grip, twisting her head. Her teeth clashed against his, and she bit down hard on his lower lip. The metallic taste of blood flooded their mouths. Instead of pulling away, Jory groaned. The pain seemed to ignite something feral inside him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue invading her mouth, tasting his own blood. The fight drained out of Carra, replaced by a chaotic storm of conflicting emotions. She hated him. She hated all these powerful, arrogant men who thought they could play God with her life. But his overwhelming dominance, the absolute certainty in his punishing grip, violently clashed with the shattered pieces of her reality. The sheer intensity of his anger was a stark contrast to Vance's pathetic cowardice. The alcohol, the betrayal, and the sheer exhaustion of the night crashed down on her. She was drowning in the agony of the last few hours, and she desperately needed something-anything-to overwrite the suffocating pain of being thrown away. A darker, more consuming fire to burn away the memories. She let go of her pride. She grabbed the lapels of his wet shirt and pulled him closer. Jory didn't hesitate. He swept her off her feet, carrying her down the hallway. He kicked the master bedroom door open with his foot and threw her onto the massive king-sized bed. He followed her down, his large hands gripping the thin silk of her ruined dress. With one violent tug, the fabric tore. Thunder shook the glass windows of the penthouse, drowning out the sound of logic breaking apart. Carra closed her eyes, digging her nails into his back, and let herself drown in the wreckage.