The Contract With Her Father's Billionaire Rival-Chapter 67. The Invite.

It was just a distraction.

It was only a distraction.

Nicolette chanted the words in her head, even though her body told a different story.

She was hot, wet, panting like she had just run a marathon. Her cheeks burned as she removed her legs from Alaric’s thighs.

His trousers were soaked with her cum, and the bulge beneath the fabric made it clear just how much tension he was holding back.

He cleared his throat and stood up.

She averted her eyes, refusing to show him the desire still burning in them. He didn’t need to see that—he didn’t deserve to see that.

"I... would just... sit back down," he said.

She could hear the hesitation in his tone, like he expected her to say something.

But she had nothing to offer him.

No words. No comfort.

He stood awkwardly for a couple of seconds before he got the message and returned to his seat.

Their eyes met and her blush deepened.

Nicolette jumped to her feet and dashed to the bathroom without looking back. Once she was inside, she exhaled.

Breathe.

Was she supposed to feel bad that she had let him touch her?

Even before she formed an answer, she knew—there was no guilt.

She had used him.

That was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yet, her body craved him. Her legs were still hot and she knew that his fingers alone couldn’t quench the fire inside her.

She needed more.

She wanted more.

But she knew she would rather be strapped to the wing of the airplane during turbulence, high in the clouds, than beg him for more.

She cleaned up, dabbed her face with water, and put her hair in a bun before going back.

When she returned to her seat, she saw that Alaric was still waiting for her.

"Nicolette..." His voice was soft, painfully soft.

She shut her eyes, refusing to give in to the feeling. "It was just a handjob," she said casually as she sat.

He shifted in his chair. "I was—"

He was trying to explain, to talk to her, and that annoyed her. She didn’t want to hear him.

She might have let him touch her, but she was definitely not talking to him.

Her mind flooded with him and Alexa under the moonlight and her chest tightened.

"Do you strike up a conversation with every woman you finger?" she said. Her tone was a little harsh, but she didn’t care.

Alaric’s eyes twitched; she saw the flash of surprise in them. "No, but you are my wife."

She arched her brow. "Oh, am I?"

He fell right into it, and she could tell he knew he messed up. She knew she shouldn’t press, but she couldn’t let it go.

She was angry—and sexually frustrated.

"You didn’t realize that I was your wife before..." she trailed off, realizing that talking about it hurt more than thinking about it.

"I’m sorry," he said gently. "It was a misunderstanding and I wanted to—"

Her blood boiled. "I don’t care, Mr. Allens."

She saw his jaw clench at the title and turned her attention to the screen in front of her.

She aggressively tapped the screen and then settled for a cartoon.

Anything to serve as a distraction.

Alaric didn’t say anything. He just stood up and went to another seat. Once she knew he wasn’t there, she settled into the movie, until sleep came.

Nicolette was jolted awake by the captain’s announcement. When she stretched and opened her eyes fully, she found Alaric kneeling in front of her.

She jerked as she sat upright.

"Sorry," he said, rising to his feet. "The way you slept... it felt like you were going to fall. So I just..."

She nodded but didn’t say anything.

"We’re home."

She nodded again as the plane finally came to a halt. She rubbed her face and got to her feet.

They both left the plane in silence and met Trainer waiting for them.

"Welcome, sir, ma’am," Trainer said with a big smile.

"Thank you, Trainer," Alaric replied. "Ready?"

"Yes, sir."

Nicolette followed Alaric into the car. When he held her waist to help her up, her stomach knotted at the touch.

She wanted to just forget her anger and crush herself into him, but she controlled herself.

She was no animal. She was a lady.

The ride home was quiet as expected, but she could sense Alaric’s discomfort and his strong urge to spark a conversation.

When they got home, she stepped out of the car, trying to get away from him as soon as possible.

Anna and Bagel were waiting at the entrance, and when Bagel saw her, he circled around, his tail wagging happily, unable to stay still.

Nicolette approached him and he crashed into her. "Bagel baby," she said, rubbing him all over.

Bagel licked her, barking softly as she continued to play with him. When he saw Alaric, his bark became louder and Nicolette had to let him go.

She straightened up and smiled at Anna. "How are you, Anna?"

"Good," Anna smiled. "Welcome home. How was it?"

Nicolette’s mind trailed to all the events that had happened. Her body shuddered with desire as she remembered how Alaric had fucked her in the bathroom, but that memory was short-lived as images of him and Alexa sitting by the pool filled her head.

"Good," she replied, annoyance staining her voice.

Anna heard the tone and cleared her throat. "A mail came in for you."

Nicolette blinked. "A mail?"

"Yes, ma’am."

Who still sends mail? And why send it to her in Alaric’s house?

"Where is it?"

"Who is it from?" Alaric asked from behind her, his voice thick with curiosity.

Anna replied to her boss first. "I have no idea who sent it, sir."

"Get it for me," Nicolette said.

All of them entered the house while Anna scrambled to the living room to bring the mail and hand it to Nicolette.

Nicolette observed it. It was a big white envelope with nothing but her name and Alaric’s address.

Alaric moved closer, his brow furrowed. "What is it?"

Nicolette moved away from him. "I will check it privately, please." Then she walked away.

She glanced back and saw that he was looking at her. His expression was a mixture of curiosity, hurt... and jealousy.

Good. Let him whine.

She walked into her room, eager to check what was in the envelope. She threw her bag on the bed, removed her shoes hastily, and stood by the window.

She tore the envelope, sending its wrappers on the clean floor. There were pink designs with sparkles on a cherry-scented paper and that heightened her curiosity.

She unfolded the paper and read through:

Lucian Crawford invites you to the grand opening of Crawford Restaurants where food meets art.

You will be—

Nicolette crumpled the paper into a ball and sent it into the bin.

She groaned, disbelief coursing through her. Ronald was going to carry out his threat because there’s no way he could have sent her an invite out of the goodness of his heart.

What was she supposed to do?

She was never going to the event. Absolutely not.

But how was she going to get her mother’s drawings?

And Lucian with a restaurant? He wasn’t beating the allegations.

A restaurant was the perfect front for his illegal business.

She tilted her head in thought and paced around the room. How was she going to get them done?

"Hey."

Nicolette turned to Alaric standing in the room.

"The door was open, so I just..." he said, gesturing to the door.

She tucked her hair behind her ears, her cheeks burning up unexpectedly.

His eyes fell to the mess on the floor. "What was the mail about?" His voice was high with curiosity. Yet she could tell he was waiting patiently.

Should she tell him?

There had been a lot of things he didn’t know, and she wondered if she could add this to it.

But then her mother’s drawings were at stake here.

She swallowed and decided to spill. Who knows—he could even help.

"Lucian Crawford is inviting me to the opening of his restaurant."

"Oh." Alaric didn’t even hide the annoyance in his tone. "Are you..."

"Hell no," she replied quickly. "It’s just..."

He moved closer and her stomach flipped. "What?"

She exhaled and walked to the bed. "My ex-boyfriend found my mother’s drawings, and because he needed money—which I wasn’t going to give him—he gave them to my dad. And now, my dad wants me at Lucian’s event before he’ll give them to me."

Alaric’s brow lifted. "You broke up with your boyfriend?"

She glared at him. "That’s not—"

"Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I got carried away. What do you want to do?"

"I don’t know," she admitted. "I don’t know how to get those drawings without going."

Alaric scratched his chin in thought, but before he could speak, her phone rang.

She ignored it, guessing it might be her father—or worse, Lucian. But when the phone kept ringing, Alaric said, "Do you want to get that?"

She reluctantly reached for her bag and pulled out her phone. She frowned when she saw the unknown number.

"Hello?" she answered, her voice uninterested.

"Hello, Miss Voss." The voice was masculine and professional. "This is Detective Hector from the New Orleans Police Department."

Nicolette sat upright, her eyes sharp. "Hello, Detective."

"We need you at the police station. We have a lead on the ongoing fire investigation, ma’am."