The Contract With Her Father's Billionaire Rival-Chapter 73. More Countries To F*ck In.

As soon as Nicolette left, Alaric went back to the study. For some inexplicable reason, he couldn’t eat—didn’t want to eat alone.

He was tired and weak, but he just couldn’t force it.

He chuckled as thoughts of Nicolette sitting on his face flooded his mind.

Of course. Why wouldn’t he be tired?

Entering the study, he pulled out his phone and dialed Richard.

"Hey," he said when Richard answered. "Sorry for hanging up then. Nicolette walked in."

"Okay?" Richard said in a high tone.

Alaric walked to his desk and sat. His good mood faded when he remembered how he had frozen when Nicolette had asked about Australia.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, resting his elbow on the desk. "I didn’t want to talk about Ian while she was there. To talk about Ian was to talk about Steve and then Craig Walsh."

He shook his head before those Craig Walsh’s thoughts could take over.

"So what are we going to do?" Richard asked.

"Are we sure Ian is truly missing? Maybe he’s in his house, enjoying—"

"Oh, come on, Alaric," Richard interrupted. "Don’t act naive. You know Ian relapsed. You know it."

Alaric groaned, refusing to believe Richard’s words. After Steve’s death, they had promised to take care of his younger brother.

When they found Ian, he was a user, living from hand to mouth. For a business school graduate, Ian’s life had been falling apart.

Alaric had taken it upon himself to get Ian clean and fix his life. Years later, Ian got better. When Alaric was moving back to New Orleans, it was no problem leaving Ian in charge—or so he thought.

"The instant he realized the power he had, he used it," Richard said, his voice laced with annoyance. "We weren’t there. We couldn’t control him, and he... just went back to the..."

Alaric shook his head, doubts swirling inside him. "No, he can’t, Richy. He knows what’s at stake. He knows how much we put into making him better."

"Then explain why he took three of our expensive paintings. Not just any paintings—the ones we planned to have on display in two months. Explain that," Richard said, his voice hardened with anger.

Richard seemed more upset at Ian’s behavior because it had been his advice in the first place.

Alaric sank into his chair in silence. He couldn’t explain.

He racked his brain, trying to come up with any reason at all—other than Ian relapsing—that could justify taking those paintings.

But nothing came. He was blank. Still, he didn’t want to believe it.

"We’ll never understand why Ian did what he did," Richard said with a sigh. "But we have to fix the problem. When do we leave for Australia?"

"You can’t leave with me. I need someone here," Alaric replied, leaning forward and tapping his laptop. "Especially with the situation with Ronald. How’s that going?"

Richard exhaled again. "I was going to talk about that before the Ian issues."

Fear crept into Alaric’s chest as his heart pounded with anticipation. Yet, he asked in a cool voice, "What did you find?"

"Ronald had some information about our clients."

"Fuck," Alaric groaned. "How many of them?"

"Two. George Reel and Mystic," Richard said bitterly.

Alaric rubbed his face, anger surging through him. "That fucker!"

"But on the bright side, Big Box is back," Richard added.

Alaric’s brow lifted. "Big Box? Wasn’t he the other person who left the day I became CEO?"

"Yes," Richard answered. "He and R.J. left that day. But Big Box came back. We’re working on bringing R.J. back too, but she is still acting tough.

"Anyways, Ronald stole three clients, but we got two back. If he does steal George Reel and Mystic, we’ll get them back too."

Alaric’s stomach twisted. He didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t like the fact that Ronald had gotten any information at all. But he was glad it wasn’t more than two.

"I guess so," he replied flatly.

"Come on, cheer up," Richard said, his voice lightening. "It’s not all that bad. I’ve upgraded our security and that’s never happening again."

Alaric tilted his head, finally giving in to Richard’s words. "Yeah," he said more animatedly.

"Don’t worry. We’ll get through this, including Ian’s case."

Ah. Ian.

His stomach churned at the reminder. "Yes, we will."

"Alright, I gotta go. Are you coming to Q Club? I’m heading there this evening," Richard said.

Alaric already knew his answer.

He didn’t want to go anywhere. He just wanted to be home with Nicolette, having her fuck his face till morning.

A jolt of passion raced through him and he swallowed.

"Sure, I’ll try and come," he said finally.

"That’s a no already," Richard laughed. "But I’ll be here when you change your mind."

If he did. But he didn’t say it out loud.

"Yes."

Richard chuckled. "Alright, boss. Later."

When the call dropped, Alaric immediately dialed his PA in Australia; he needed to know how it had happened before thoughts of Nicolette distracted him.

Jeanne picked up immediately. "Hello, Mr. Allens," she said with her thick French accent. "It’s good to hear from you."

Alaric smiled. "Good to hear from you too. How is everything?"

"Great, sir. And your Nou Or-leh-ahn?"

He laughed. "New Orleans is fine. Merci, Jeanne." Then his smile faded. "I heard about Ian."

"Yes sir. I was shocked when I heard it too," Jeanne said casually. She was one of the few employees who could talk to him like that, probably because she was older than him.

Alaric’s jaw clenched. "How did it happen?"

"Mary said Ian was the last to leave the office, and when she got inside the next day to add more to the collection, she couldn’t find the big three," Jeanne explained. "He hasn’t come to work for two days now, and we can’t find him anywhere."

Alaric groaned. His heart squeezed with anger and pain. But it was the pain that weighed heavier—the pain that Ian could think of something like this and carry it out.

His betrayal hurt a lot.

"Thank you, Jeanne," he sighed. "I’ll be coming to Australia soon. But I don’t want anyone else to know. Understood?"

"Oui, Monsieur. How is ze wife?"

His cheeks heated unexpectedly. "She is good. Thanks, Jeanne."

"Oui, Monsieur."

"Alright, later. Bye," he said, ending the call.

He scratched his chin, trying to steady the emotions storming in his chest. When he get to Australia, he would know how to fix it better.

His thoughts swirled to Nicolette, and excitement bubbled inside him. He would take her along with him.

More countries to fuck in.

His excitement doubled and he rose to his feet. He had to recreate their afternoon. He had to put her in the mood again, knowing she might come home tired after seeing Suzie.

He racked his brain. What could he get her?

Then a thought crossed his mind.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Tom. "Hey Tom."

"Hello, sir."

"How’s the jet lag? Feeling better?"

"Absolutely, sir," Tom replied.

"I want you to get my wife some painting equipment. You know, something beautiful she could use at home."

"Alright, sir. Would that be all?"

Would that be all?

Would giving her something paint-related be enough?

Lucian Crawford had sent a flower arrangement. He had to top that shit.

"Can you get me huge bouquets of flowers? I want them to do dramatic things like spell out Nicolette’s name," he said, then frowned. "Not exactly that—but something grand."

"I understand you, sir," Tom said. "Maybe a small... picnic at home too?"

Alaric’s eyes widened. "Yes! That’s genius!"

"Oh, alright, sir," Tom said, sounding pleased with himself. "Doing that right away."

"Thank you," Alaric said.

"You’re welcome, sir. The designers scheduled their meeting for 10 a.m. tomorrow."

"Okay, Nicolette will be there early. Thanks, Tom," he said and ended the call.

He couldn’t wait to see Nicolette’s face when she saw everything.

Not that he was in competition with Lucian, but he knew for certain she wouldn’t even think about that flower gift anymore.

Somehow, the excitement surging through his veins made him hungry, and he made his way to the dining room.

He requested fresh, warm food and, after forty minutes, was served. He knew the exact time because he was replying to emails as he waited.

Just as he finished eating and was about to leave the dining room, his phone rang. He reached for it, his heart leaping with excitement.

"Hey, Tom. How’s it going?"

"Good, sir. The packages are on the way," Tom said in an off tone.

Alaric frowned at the hesitation in Tom’s voice. "But what?"

"There’s a news story going viral... now, sir."

His frown deepened. "What news?"

Tom hesitated before he spoke. "Your wife was... spotted with Lucian... Crawford."

Anger surged through him and he hung up. He checked the news on his phone, and his stomach dropped at the first picture that appeared.

Lucian was standing next to Nicolette, his hand on her waist.

Alaric clenched his jaw. No, it can’t be. There had to be an explanation.

He immediately dialed Nicolette’s number, but she didn’t pick up.

And where the hell were Trainer and Wex?

His stomach tightened as he dialed the number again.

Twice.

Three times.

Four times.

When she didn’t answer, his heart shattered.

"Fuck."

Nicolette was with Lucian.