The Contract With Her Father's Billionaire Rival-Chapter 34. The Guest In The Right Wing.

"Well done, son. I’ll see you tomorrow," Clara said, amusement clear in her tone.

Alaric groaned as he walked away, pulling Violet’s boxes with him. His heart plummeted at the look on Nicolette’s face, and he clenched his jaw, trying to smother his imagination.

He hated that his mother was really enjoying this.

"I hope you don’t mind your husband having another woman around." He heard Clara say, and he didn’t have to look back to know she was talking to Nicolette.

He groaned again, hating the mockery, the tease in her tone.

Why the hell was Clara talking as if she hadn’t threatened him into letting Violet stay for the night?

He paused, waiting to hear Nicolette counter Clara with her usual sharp response.

"What is it, dear? Anything wrong?" Violet asked him in a honeyed tone.

He ignored her and finally turned, wondering why Nicolette hadn’t responded to his mother. But just as he did, he saw her walking away—but not before their eyes met. He saw the shock in her eyes, the pain there for a brief moment as she pursed her lips and left.

Regret snagged in his heart.

He had gone too far.

He wanted to go to her, to explain his reason, but his mother’s laughter stopped him in his tracks.

"Cat got her tongue," Clara said, laughing after Nicolette.

His forehead creased with a frown. "You should go home, Mother. You’ve gotten what you wanted."

Clara laughed again, her sound filling the room, fueling his annoyance. "Oh, Alaric, you sound like a wounded puppy. Are you alright, my darling?"

She was taunting him.

She was telling him she’d won.

Flaunting her victory in his face, expecting him to challenge her again so she could come up with more ridiculous threats.

He knew all that—and he wasn’t going to fall for it.

His frown deepened. "It’s getting late."

Clara gave a knowing laugh before eventually picking up her bag. "Goodnight, my beautiful children. See you all tomorrow."

"Bye, Mrs. Allens," Violet said, waving.

"Bye," Clara said and left the house.

The instant she left, Alaric tilted his head toward the staff quarters. "Anna!"

Some minutes later, Anna appeared before him. "Yes, Mr. Allens?"

"Take... her..." he spat with enough disgust in his voice as he gestured to Violet, "to the last guest room on the right wing."

The right wing of the house was far from Nicolette’s room. He didn’t want either woman clashing and causing trouble—especially Violet.

"Yes, sir," Anna said, reaching for the boxes.

"Alaric!" Violet protested, folding her arms daintily across her chest. "Why aren’t you taking me in yourself? You promised your mother."

He turned to her, fists clenched, his eyes gleaming with annoyance. "I said you can stay in my house—not escorting you around like a slave."

Violet bit her lip, her forehead furrowed with disapproval. "That is not what you told your mother!"

He groaned as he faced Anna.

Nope. He wasn’t doing this. He wasn’t arguing with her.

"Make sure she’s comfortable," he told Anna and walked away.

"Alaric! Alaric!" Violet called, but he ignored her. "I’m just going to call your mother and explain your behavior to her!"

He turned sharply to Violet, his annoyance now morphed into anger. "Don’t fucking push it. I’ll have you thrown out in a minute."

She gasped, her face turning scarlet, but she said nothing.

Good.

He could take his mother’s blackmail, but that was it—no other woman or person had the right to threaten him.

Alaric sighed as he proceeded to his room, his heart heavy with a mixture of guilt, doubt, and annoyance.

What had he done?

He had asked his mother for her presence at the wedding tomorrow, and as expected, Clara had refused to come.

And if she wouldn’t come, there was no way his father was coming either.

She had put him in a tight spot—allow Violet stay for one night, and she and his father would come. She would even pose as a happy mother-in-law for the media.

Her offer had been tempting. And with everything the media was saying, having her support was important for the narrative.

If his parents showed full support of the marriage, everyone would know Ronald was the problem.

And that was it.

He had agreed to Clara’s sick plan for the marriage.

He groaned as he pushed his door open, his heart plummeting again with the memory of the pain in Nicolette’s eyes.

Maybe he shouldn’t have done it?

Maybe he should’ve called his mother’s bluff, knowing there was no way in hell she would miss her only child’s wedding.

"Too late now," he said with a sigh as he sank into his bed.

He combed his hair with his fingers and sighed again. He peeped at Bagel and saw that his baby was still sleeping soundly.

What to do next?

He picked his phone from the bed stand and dialed Stelle’s number. Almost immediately, she picked up.

"Hey, Stelle," he said, his voice soft.

"Hello, sir."

"How’s it going?"

"Good," Stelle responded briskly. "I have made arrangements for your outfits—they’ll be delivered first thing tomorrow. Though I got two dresses for your wife because I wasn’t sure which she would prefer."

His wife.

His mind drifted to Nicolette, and this time he wasn’t thinking about the pain in her eyes. He was thinking about the desire.

The way she had been willing. The way her legs had parted for his—

"Thank you, Stelle," he said, clearing his throat. "See you tomorrow."

"Have a great night, sir," Stelle said before ending the call.

Just as Alaric dropped the phone on the table, a knock sounded on his door.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Allens," Anna said from the other side of the door, her voice shaking.

Her tone got to him, and he quickly reached for the door. When he opened it, he saw the stress on Anna’s face.

"What happened?"

Anna’s face flushed as her gaze dropped to the floor. "Your guest... she’s being... difficult."

Alaric straightened up, his mouth folding into a frown. "What did she do?"

"She keeps complaining about everything... and when I tried to make it easy for her, she... she..."

Alaric had never seen Anna this upset, which made him realize Violet had really pushed it.

"Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. Go to bed," he said, keeping his voice cool.

"Thank you, sir," Anna bowed, her voice laced with gratitude as she left.

Irritation simmered inside him as he made his way to Violet’s designated room. He pounced his way there and knocked aggressively.

"Yes?" Violet replied softly.

"Open up," he said firmly.

"One minute, please," she said, her voice rising with urgency.

He heard her scrambling around the room in quick, light steps.

What was she up to?

After a few moments, she finally opened the door. "Hey," she said, her eyes twinkling with a smile. "Come in." She opened the door wide.

His eyes fell to her exposed breasts and his dick jerked unexpectedly. Violet was wearing a red see-through top—covering absolutely nothing.

He could see her bare breasts, and when he looked down, he realized she was only in red panties.

"Like what you see?" she asked, twirling her hair, her eyes shining with lust.

He stepped back, glaring at her. "I came here to warn you. Do not speak to any of my staff rudely."

"Oh, Alaric," she purred, her voice seductively low. "She was really annoying. I had to tell her what to do."

His glare deepened. "I’ve said my piece. Good night."

Just as he was about to turn, Violet grabbed him by the chest and pressed a kiss to his lips. Her hard nipples grazed his chest as she ground her pussy against his thigh.

Taken aback, Alaric pushed her way, sending her back against the door.

"What the fuck?"

He had known something like this could happen, which was why he had put her far away from his room.

But instead of remorse, Violet’s mouth twisted into a smirk. "It’s your last day as a bachelor. Don’t you want to let loose just one time?"

"You’re disgusting. First thing tomorrow morning, I want you out of my house!" he snapped and turned to leave.

"I want you, Alaric! And I will surely get you!" she called after him.

"Fuck off!" he shouted, walking away.

Anger surged inside him—but beneath it was fear. Violet’s tone sent a chill down his spine.