Chapter Four

Miracle

Restless and irritable, I marched back and forth in my assigned bedroom which was as big as a ballroom. I needed someone to explain to me in plain terms why Leonel Hamilton hired me.

Calvin's words did nothing to tame my fears. Leonel was with a woman last night. 

Now that I was in his house, I needed the contract to work so badly because I was broke. 

Three million dollars was enough to buy a house, go to college, and revamp my life. And deep down, my heart couldn't handle any more rejection from any Mister.

Needing to vent out my frustration to someone, I rang Dani. As usual, she picked after the tenth ring.

 "Hey, celebrity girlfriend! How's it going in your paradise? I can't believe your client is that hot stuff, Leonel Hamilton. Girl, tell me everything and…"

"Keep your voice low, banshee," I groaned, sitting on a puffy gray ottoman."There's a problem."

"Fuck me running," she choked. "He rejected you?"

My feet crossed to the bathroom to offload my bladder. Ignoring my worries for a second, I admired the toilet bowl with a shiny gold rim, wondering if it wasn't too vain to waste so much money on a toilet bowl. 

"Dani, I don't know what I'm doing here," I sighed. "First of all, he wasn't even the least bit interested in the contract, but that's not the bombshell. He has a girlfriend. A real one."

Dani shrieked in outrage and I genuinely grew concerned for my inner ear, knowing I was close to losing my hearing like my aunt's husband.

"What the hell!"

"Yup. Some Arab chick walked into his house last night. They were all lovey-dovey."

"Mimi, I'm trying to process this info but my brain isn't working right now," Dani said, sounding a bit frazzled. "Why hire you when he has someone?"

"I think I should leave."

"Don't you dare," she snapped. Irritated, my lips flattened and I drew in slow, steady breaths. 

"Dani, I don't want to get into trouble."

"Did you ask his PA?" 

I scoffed, washing my hands and putting the call on speaker. "That one practically dragged me upstairs and didn't explain anything and his boss didn't say anything this morning."

Silence followed my statement and I pictured Dani chewing her lower lip, pondering. 

"That's strange."

"I don't want to be the brunt of a sick joke. Imagine my aunt finding out that I lied to her."

"Here we go again," she groaned, "stop being so paranoid. Leonel must have some complicated business or personal issues that require him to have a fake girlfriend. Be patient with him."

"That doesn't sound reassuring and I'm not okay with it."

Dani's laughter grated my nerves. "Not okay with him having a real girlfriend? Miracle, are you jealous?"

"Of a stranger? Yeah, right?"

"Good. Look at the bright side. Three million dollars is enough to pay off your debts, help your aunt, and start your own business."

"What about my safety? What if the paparazzi find out or Leonel dumps me in front of everyone to humiliate me? Shouldn't that make me concerned?"

"You're overreacting. Calm down. Leonel isn't that stupid and he surely knows how to handle the media. Also, you're not his girlfriend. You don't have to like him or anything. Just do your job and smile for the cameras."

"Whatever. Bye," I dismissed the conversation, frustrated.

Musing and wondering what I got myself into, my phone rang, breaking my train of thought.

 My aunt was calling.

And my mind began working overtime like a volcano on the verge of erupting.

Aunt Suzanne hated liars. I lied that I got a job at A****n through the help of Dani and she only let me go after I reminded her that we were struggling financially, barely making ends meet.

This was becoming harder than I thought.

 The phone kept ringing, but I ignored the call, deciding to send her a text instead.

/Sorry, Aunt Suzanne. Can't talk right now. I'm at work. They don't allow us to take calls while on duty. Please don't worry about me. I'm fine. Love you./

After hitting send and hoping she would buy it, I groaned into my pillow. 

After several hours of lying idly on the bed and doing nothing, a loud knock woke me up from my slumber.

"Are you awake?" Maria, the housekeeper peeked in.

 At least I had one person who treated me like a human being and not a hired prop.

"Yes, coming," I replied.

"Mr. Hamilton is waiting for you downstairs. He wants you to come down as soon as possible," Maria informed me.

I quickly changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt without bothering about makeup or jewelry. He didn't care how I looked anyway and I hadn't even gone shopping.

But the thought of facing him made me shiver. 

Downstairs, he didn't spare me a glance. He was still dressed in his work clothes, a tailored gray jacket. 

"Follow me."

We headed to a study filled with books, paintings, and gadgets. He pointed to a leather couch near the desk where I sat, my nerves eating me.

Staying alone with Leonel made my senses spin. It was so intensifying and overwhelming.

Leonel sat on an executive swivel high chair and reached out for an envelope on his desk. 

"Final contract. Read carefully. If you don't agree with anything, then it's over."

Nodding, I ignored my nerves and brought out the paper, reading carefully.

Clause one: The client, Leonel Hamilton, and the contractor, Miracle Jones, agreed to enter into a fake romantic relationship for three months. During this, the contractor will accompany the client to various social events and act as his girlfriend in public. The contractor will also live in the client's mansion, but not share his bedroom.

A scoff escaped my lips. Sharing his bedroom had never crossed my mind. 

"Liar," my subconscious mocked.

The contractor will receive a total payment of $3 million for her services, payable in three installments of $1 million each at the end of each month. The contractor agrees to abide by the following rules while in a fake relationship with the client.

I raised my head, "My friend friend is already aware of the contract."

"Let's hope she doesn't go blabbing around," he replied coolly.

The contractor must never fall in love with the client or develop any emotional attachment to him. The contractor must never steal from the client or his property. The contractor must never disclose the nature of their relationship to any third party….bla bla bla.

Leonel watched me pick a fountain pen from his stash but I stopped when I read the last part. 

The contractor must never shuffle or engage in any sexual activity with the client or any other man.

My heart did crazy things in my chest and I read that part out.

"That's a no-brainer," he maintained his indifference. "Imagine if the paparazzi see you with another man."

"You have a girlfriend."

He raised a brow. "You can't close your legs for three months? I believe you can satisfy your cravings with your fingers, or a toy."

His words made my senses spin. They wrapped around me like a warm blanket. I shouldn't be reacting to my boss that way. But somehow, I imagined his fingers buried in me, teasing, taking, owning.

Shaking my head clear from my fantasies, I focused on the task at hand. 

"You can't control me like a puppet. As long as I do my thing privately. It shouldn't concern you."

He frowned, making me shiver. "You're free to do whatever you want with your life, as long as you remain single for three months. I'm sure you have seen in clause five that if you breach any of the rules, you're liable to pay a penalty of fifty million as compensation for damages or spend ten years in jail. There's a penalty, and I'm watching you."

"But this is unfair," I gasped, protesting.

He ignored me while I skimmed through the rest of the ridiculous clauses, which stated that I must never insult or demean him in front of others or in private and must respect his opinions and preferences, whether they are unreasonable or impractical. I must protect and defend his name and several other bullshits.

"It's not like I have a choice anyway," I murmured and signed the contract.

"Settled," he said. "There's a party coming up tomorrow night. Get a nice dress for yourself. And make sure you get your hair sorted out. It's too long and curly."

"My hair is just fine."

"Do as I said. You signed a contract, remember?"

Silly prick.

His gaze clung to mine, watching me. I pushed myself to a standing position and my legs ate up the ground as I headed out. 

In the comfort of my room, my body went warm at the thought of Leonel's dashing face and his fingers kneading me. 

Ashamed that my entire body vibrated in response, I locked the door, took off my clothes, lay naked on the bed and spread my thighs open.

My index and middle finger found my clit, rubbing the hardening bud gently. I bit back a moan as I arched my back, enjoying the wetness pooling between my legs. 

 I stroked myself faster, imagining my boss inside me. His touch would burn like fire, igniting my skin until I screamed aloud for release.

This was wrong. I couldn't be thinking of sex right after signing the damn paper. This was dangerous and insane.

But my body betrayed me. My hips rose and fell faster and harder with my finger digging deeper inside, thrusting faster.

The pleasure spread throughout my body and the more I rubbed, the harder I pressed against my walls. I could feel the tension build inside me until a squirt erupted from inside me, coating the tip of my finger, dripping onto the bed sheets.

I collapsed back onto the soft mattress and shut my eyes.

 Maybe it wasn't healthy to let my guard down for just a little bit, or like my cousin, Arielle, fantasize about Leonel, knowing fully well that he was never going to look in my direction or like me.