The Contract With Her Father's Billionaire Rival-Chapter 30. Defeat And Desperation.

"That is... that’s just..." Alaric trailed off, his brow creasing in awe.

Nicolette chuckled at the expression on his face. That was a great suggestion, and he knew it too.

She watched as he stroked his chin in thought, his confusion filling her with more joy, but she didn’t say anything. She gave him time to digest the whole idea.

Nicolette walked to the big bed in the room and sank on it. She was shocked at the softness, and she knew if Alaric wasn’t standing there right now, she would collapse into it.

"I mean..." Alaric paused, clearly stunned. He scratched his head, pacing around the room. "It’s genius. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that."

Her cheeks warmed unexpectedly, her heart skipping at his compliment, her mind drifting to that kiss. She shook the memory from her head but held her smile, trying not to let him see her blush. "Thank you."

He stopped pacing and turned to face her fully, his eyes shimmering with delight. "That would work so well. Yes."

A little smirk tugged at his lips as he pulled out his phone and typed rapidly. She had no idea who he was texting, but from the speed of his fingers and the intensity in his posture, she could tell he was already making plans.

Joy pulsed in her chest. Oh, she could already imagine the look on her father’s face when he read her own press release.

Oh, the delight.

If Ronald wanted to go low, she would drag him to hell—and look hot doing it.

She was so mad at him. After all the plotting, the running, Ronald had taken it further by lying to the public. The thought made her clench her jaw.

"So," Alaric said, lifting his head from his phone, a wicked grin on his face. "It is done. We’ll be having our wedding tomorrow."

"Great," she grinned—until suddenly sadness surged through her.

She was having her wedding tomorrow and none of her family would be there!

This wasn’t how she had envisioned her happy day.

She knew Hillary would never be able to make it even if she wanted to, Ronald would never let her.

She was alone. Again.

"Is everything okay?" Alaric asked, voice softening with concern.

"Sure," she replied quickly, forcing a smile.

"Alright," Alaric said, studying her in silence, the intense look back in his blue eyes. "So," he said finally, folding his arms as he stepped in front of her. "I assume Lucian Crawford is the betrothed husband. What does he do? I have never heard of him."

Nicolette sighed, looking away. "I’m not sure. I don’t know anything about him either."

Except he was an arms dealer.

And possibly other terrible things.

But she didn’t say that out loud.

Alaric hummed, his mouth curved into a frown. "And you haven’t seen him before?"

Her mind drifted to the dinner with Lucian, and fresh anger coursed through her.

"I have. I have seen him twice."

Something flicked in Alaric’s eyes.

Jealousy? Annoyance? Indifference?

"If you have seen him before and liked him, why are you here? Why not in his house? Enjoying the life he promised you?"

Nicolette laughed at Alaric’s tone—it was definitely jealousy.

His forehead creased and he frowned, dropping his hand. "What? Is it because of your boyfriend?"

The thought of Robert took the smile from her lips, and she remembered Craig Walsh.

The stupid debts.

The extended contract.

Her body tensed with remembrance as she realized she would rather be alone with her thoughts. She needed space from Alaric himself.

Even though he had planned a nice bath and a massage, it didn’t change the fact that he had offended her.

She stood up from the bed and his frown deepened. "I think you should leave, Mr. Allens. I would like to continue my massage."

Almost immediately, his frown disappeared and his eyes... they gleamed with something stronger.

Heat? Passion? Amusement?

She couldn’t tell right away, but the look sent a knot down her stomach and in between her legs. Her nipples hardened against the harsh towel.

She knew the moment he remembered the massage scene—when her butt had been exposed.

She saw the sparkle in his eyes as they roamed all over her body, like she was naked.

As Alaric stepped closer, her breath hitched, and she moved away until the back of her knee touched the edge of the bed.

"Mr... Allens..." Nicolette cried out, her throat suddenly dry when Alaric didn’t stop until he stood in front of her, keeping just a small distance between them.

"Don’t you think we should practice for tomorrow?" he said, a mixture of mischief and amusement dancing in his eyes.

Her eyes widened with confusion. "Practice what?"

"Affection. We’ve to do it so well that people don’t question us."

She gasped and escaped from the grip he had on her. "No. Absolutely not!"

He turned to her, laughing hard.

Of course, he was going to enjoy torturing her.

Heat crept up her cheeks and the knot in her stomach deepened. She shook her head, panic surging through her.

Get hold of your feelings!

Control them!

"You need to leave, Mr Allens," she said firmly, attempting to gain control, but it came out small and unconvincing.

Alaric cocked his head, a smirk curling up at the corner of his mouth. "What are you so afraid of, Cole? Afterall, I am your husband."

"On paper!" she snapped, doing anything to stop the heat igniting inside her. "You... I have a boyfriend, you know that."

Alaric’s forehead creased into a frown, and for a moment, Nicolette was grateful that his smirk faded.

She dug a finger into her palm, her heart flipping crazily. The frown on his face gave her the confidence to continue.

"We had an agreement—no... intimacy," she breathed, the tightness in her chest easing out... until the smirk returned on Alaric’s face.

"True," he said, stepping closer to her again. "But me rescuing you from Craig Walsh wasn’t part of our agreement."

Her heart sank. "What does that have to do with... intimacy?"

He stopped in front of her, his blue eyes sharp and teasing—so sharp she forgot to breathe for a second.

"It simply means I compromised," he explained. "I didn’t have to save you from Craig, but I did. You don’t have to be publicly affectionate to me, but you will."

His cockiness, the tension between them, her reaction to him—all added to her confusion. And it was either she stayed confused and lost her sense of control... or got angry and took it back.

She picked anger, allowing it to find its way into her chest.

"You need to leave!"

But Alaric wasn’t even moved by her tone, which only weakened her defenses.

"Please!" she yelled, her voice cracking with defeat and desperation.

Alaric didn’t say anything. He just stepped forward, and her pulse thundered in her ears.

"Please!" she shouted again, but this time it wasn’t out of anger, it was out of weakness, out of fear—out of desire.

Why did her voice betray her like this?

She didn’t want this!

Yet, she wanted it...

Alaric lowered his lips to her ear, and she melted. Her nipples hardened instantly, her legs buckling from the tightness between them.

She surrendered to the feeling.

She closed her eyes.

She anticipated his lips against hers.

She waited.

Alaric pressed himself against her stomach, and she felt the bulge in his trousers.

Her throat tightened.

Heat burned between her thighs.

Alaric’s lips brushed her earlobe, causing a gasp to escape her mouth. Her towel was a second away from slipping off, but she didn’t care—couldn’t care.

But instead of kissing her like she hoped—like she wanted—Alaric whispered into her ear, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine.

"Give me my jacket."