Chapter 2 - KILLIAN FROST

The black Maybach came to a smooth stop in front of a tower of glass and steel that seemed to swallow the sky.

Aubrey leaned back slightly, staring up.

Frost Corporation.

The name was carved into the building in steel work that looked like it cost a lot.

Her stomach churned.

She stepped out, instantly hit by the cold city wind. Her thrifted shoes touched pavement so polished it reflected the building like a mirror. Everything here looked expensive enough to make her feel like she didn’t belong.

Because she didn’t.

Her fingers tightened around her worn-out handbag as a woman in a tailored grey suit approached her.

“Miss Lane. This way.”

No handshake. No smile. Just direction. Like she was some robot doing exactly what it was programmed to do and nothing else.

Aubrey followed, her heels clicking against marble floors so clean they looked unused. The lobby was quiet. Too quiet. In a way that felt intentional, like noise wasn’t allowed without permission.

They moved past security, past reception, straight to a private elevator.

No buttons.

No stops.

Just ascent.

The doors slid open directly into another world.The air felt colder here, controlled, sterile.

And then she saw him.

Killian Frost.

He stood with his back partially turned, looking out at the city as if he owned every inch of it. One hand rested in his pocket, the other loosely holding a file.

He didn’t move when she entered.

Didn’t rush.

Didn’t acknowledge her immediately.

As if her presence was something that had to earn his attention.

Aubrey's pulse ticked faster.

He was taller than she expected. Broader too. Not bulky.

His suit was black, tailored to perfection. Expensive in a way that didn’t try to be noticed. 

When he finally turned, his gaze landed on her.

Cold grey eyes.

Measuring.

Unblinking.

She could feel the weight of his gaze on her.

“You’re late,” he said.

Her brows lifted immediately. “Good morning to you too.”

A pause.

A flicker-in his eyes- came and disappeared quickly that if she wasn't looking,she wouldn't have noticed.

Most people didn’t talk back to him.

She didn’t seem to know that.

Or didn’t care.

“Sit,” he said.

“I’ll stand.”

Silence.

The air shifted between them.

Killian's eyes narrowed slightly, studying her now with more intention.

Then he walked.

Slowly.

Not rushed. Not casual either. Controlled, deliberate steps that made the space between them feel smaller with every second.

“You're shorter than I expected.”he said casually.

And you're ruder than I imagined.” She blurted.

The silence in the room was heavy.

“I know you need money,” he said finally.

“And I know you need a surrogate,” 

Aubrey replied without hesitation.

That landed.

The air in the room tightened.

Killian stopped a few feet away from her, his expression unreadable again.

Most people softened when they needed something from him. Even his mother.

This woman spoke like she was negotiating on equal ground.

Interesting.

“You’ve done your research,” he said.

“So did you,” she replied.

A faint silence stretched again.

Killian tilted his head slightly. “Good. That will make this easier.”

“Easier for who?”

“For both of us.”

Aubrey exhaled slowly. “Then say what you want.”

He turned slightly, gesturing toward the city behind him.

“You will carry my child.”

Her body stiffened—

“You will live in my residence under full medical supervision,” he continued, voice cold and powerful. “Until delivery. You will follow every instruction given by my medical team. No excuses.”.

Aubrey crossed her arms. “And..?”

“You get your money and you leave.”

Just like that.

She should’ve felt relieved that it sounded simple. Clean. Controlled.

Instead, something uncomfortable settled in her chest.

“And the rules?” she asked.

His eyes flicked back to her.

Something darker passed through them for a second.

“No emotional attachment.”

A beat.

Aubrey scoffed. “Yeah cause you're so irresistible.”

Silence.

“What else?”

“No dating,” he said.

Aubrey frowned. “While I’m there?”

“While under my contract.”

She scoffed softly. “You really think you own people’s lives that much?”

“I think clarity prevents complications.”

Her jaw tightened. “Next rule?”

“No touching me without permission.”

That one made her pause.

A flicker of disbelief crossed her face.

“What are you—royalty?”

A muscle in his jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond to the provocation.

Instead, he stepped closer again.

The distance collapsed in a way that made her instinctively still.

“You’ll receive five million dollars upon successful delivery,” he said quietly.

The number hung in the air like a weight.

Five million.

For a second, her mind went silent.

Hospital bills.

Her mother’s face when she tried not to cry.

The doctors speaking in careful tones like hope was something fragile.

Her current life—crumbling under debt she couldn’t outrun.

Aubrey swallowed.

Killian watched her closely.

Like he already knew what she would choose.

“And if I say no?” she asked.

His expression didn’t change.

He stepped even closer.

Now he was close enough that she could smell his cologne— powerful,expensive, dark, unsettlingly calm.

“Then you walk out that door,” he said.

A pause.

His voice lowered slightly.

“But we both know you won’t.”

That statement hit harder than the money.

Not because it was true—but because of the confidence behind it.

Like he had already calculated every possible version of her.

Aubrey's fingers tightened around her bag strap.

Her heart was beating too loudly.

She hated that he was watching her with cold disinterest in his eyes.

But it didn’t matter less.

Not to her.

“Don’t assume you know me,” she said quietly.

A flicker crossed his face again—something sharper now.

“I don’t assume,” he replied. “I observe.”

A silence stretched between them.

Heavy and uncomfortable.

Aubrey looked away first, toward the glass wall, toward the city and anywhere that was not him.

Her voice came softer this time.

“I need time to think about it.”

Killian didn’t respond immediately.

“You don’t have time to think about anything.”

That made her look back at him sharply.

He continued, voice controlled. “Your file is on my desk. Your mother’s condition is worsening. Your debts are escalating. Every day you delay reduces options, not increases them.”

Her breath caught slightly.

She hated that he knew that much.

Hated more that he was right.

Killian took another step back, giving space—but not comfort.

“This is not a negotiation,” he said. “It’s a decision.”

Aubrey’s throat tightened.

For a moment, she looked like she might refuse just to prove she still had control over something.

But then her shoulders lowered slightly.

Not defeat.

Something heavier.

Acceptance of reality.

Finally, she spoke.

“What happens if I agree?”

Killian's gaze held hers.

Cold.

Steady.

Unmovable.

“You follow the rules,” he said. “And you get your compensation.”

A pause.

“And my child,” he added.

The room went silent again.

Aubrey closed her eyes briefly.

When she opened them, something had shifted.

Not trust.

Not safety.

But decision.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

One word.

It changed everything.

Killian studied her for a long moment.

Then he turned slightly toward his desk.

“Then we begin.”

And outside the glass walls, Manhattan kept moving—unaware that two lives had just been bound together by a contract neither of them fully understood yet.