THE CONTRACT WIFE

PROLOGUE – Zara’s POV

Antoinette and I found ourselves perched on stools in a dimly lit bar, the lively hum of music and clinking glasses filling the air. It was the ideal spot to unwind and let go of the day's stress.

As we sipped our drinks, Antoinette began chatting about men. The more the alcohol warmed my insides, the easier laughter came, and my concerns seemed to dissolve like winter frost under the spring sun. We were thoroughly enjoying our night out, but then something—or rather, someone—caught my eye.

Lucas Blackwood, the man I'd been crushing on since college, had just walked in. My heart fluttered wildly as I watched him stride in, his brooding eyes scanning the room. He looked worn out and, more noticeably, unhappy. I'd never seen him so downcast before, and I couldn't help but wonder what had happened.

“Zara, are you okay?” Antoinette's voice was a faint echo, drowned out by the rapid pounding of my heart.

“Y-yes, I'm fine,” I managed to stutter out, though my voice hardly masked the rush of adrenaline.

I stole another glance at Lucas. He was now seated at the far end of the bar, a drink served but untouched in front of him. Even though I'd never managed to capture his heart, seeing him upset felt like a persistent itch, impossible to ignore.

“Zara! Look!” Antoinette exclaimed.

Antoinette's voice jolted me out of my reverie as she casually pointed out Lucas's presence. I offered a nonchalant smile, not wanting her to know I'd been observing him since his arrival.

“Now's your chance, girl. Go and talk to him. He seems to be alone,” Antoinette nudged.

“No way,” I retorted, well aware of Lucas's model girlfriend, Giselle. I had no intention of flirting with a man who was taken. “What about you?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Don't worry about me. Remember, this bar is my cousin's place. I won't be alone,” she reassured.

The thought of approaching Lucas was daunting. It had been a while since we last saw each other, and I feared he might dismiss me with a mere flick of his hand. That would be mortifying.

“I'll be right back,” I mumbled to Antoinette, my legs carrying me towards Lucas before I could second-guess myself. The alcohol had emboldened me, making me feel invincible. Without another thought, I slid onto the stool next to him.

“Zara Delafontaine? What are you doing here?” he inquired.

His use of my full name surprised me. He remembered me. “Hello, Lucas Blackwood,” I replied, a grin tugging at my lips. He shifted his gaze from his drink to me.

“Please leave,” he stated abruptly.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

“Just a rough day. I'm fine. I just need a drink...or more,” he replied.

“Lucky for you, I'm an expert at turning bad days around,” I informed him, eliciting a chuckle.

“Are you alone?” he asked after a sip of his drink.

“No, I'm with Antoinette, but she had to step out,” I fibbed. As he scanned the bar, I grew nervous. When he narrowed his eyes, I resisted the urge to check where Antoinette and I had been sitting. Luckily, she was nowhere in sight. She probably went to chat with her cousin.

As the night progressed, Lucas and I engaged in deep conversation, and I found myself flirting with him unabashedly. The bar faded into the background as we got lost in our exchange. The alcohol-fueled night had taken an unexpected turn.

We talked, laughed, and with every passing moment, my heart felt more alive. Somehow, my hand found its way to his thigh. It was a subtle touch, almost unconscious. His eyes flickered, and his expression was unreadable. With that simple touch, I sensed a shift in him, and the tension between us grew palpable.

“Let's go,” he said suddenly, grabbing my hand.

I hesitated as he led me towards the exit, thinking of Antoinette. But then it hit me: I might never get another chance to be with Lucas Blackwood. So, I followed him, not looking back or worrying about Antoinette.

Stepping outside the bar, Lucas led me to his car. Without questioning his intentions, I slid into the passenger seat as he held the door open for me. As he started the car, I stole a glance at his chiseled jawline, illuminated by the city lights.

The night sky was streaked with vibrant hues from the city below, and I felt like I was in a dream. Everything was too perfect to be real. The engine hummed to life, and we pulled away from the bar.

Soon, we arrived at a towering penthouse. Lucas helped me out of the car and led me into his private sanctuary.

“Come in,” he said, his voice low and inviting. I stepped inside, instantly awestruck by the opulence of his home. It was magnificent, from the luxurious furniture to the grand bed that dominated the room. His masculine scent lingered in the air, a fragrance I had always loved.

“Lucas, when did your voice become so deep?” I asked, my gaze lingering on the bed. The soft lighting accentuated the room's lavishness, and I couldn't help but feel drawn to it.

“Lucas,” I called out again, moving closer to the bed. The effects of the alcohol were making me feel warm, so I started adjusting my clothes to cool down.

Suddenly, the sound of running water caught my attention. Lucas was in the shower. I waited, a playful grin on my face.

When he emerged, the sight of his well-defined muscles, glistening with water, made my heart race. He was breathtaking. Catching my eye, I blurted out, “I'm feeling hot... I want to undress right now.” Surprised by my own words, I collapsed onto the floor. Lucas rushed to my side, extending his hand to help me up.

“Lucas,” I murmured, wrapping my arm around his neck.

“Rest for a couple of minutes. I will take you home later. Perhaps, do you need a shower? You are sweating,” he observed.

“Yes, please,” I replied, allowing him to lead me to the bathroom for a cold shower.

But the shower didn't help. I was still drunk. Emerging from the bathroom, the sweet fragrance of the evening air mixed with the aroma of wine enveloped me. Everything felt hazy and surreal. I tried to make sense of the situation, but my thoughts were clouded with confusion.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Lucas asked.

I wanted to reply, but my mind was a whirl of sensations. His words felt distant, as if they were coming from another world. A giggle escaped my lips as I tried to focus on his face, my senses heightened by the intoxicating atmosphere.

“What do you think you're doing right now?” he asked again.

“I feel hot and uncomfortable, Lucas,” I managed to say, my voice barely a whisper. Leaning into him, I pressed my face against his chest, a wave of comfort washing over me. With my eyes closed, I let the moment carry me away. As I clung to him, a silent yearning for his touch took hold of me.

“You're drunk, Zara,” he pointed out.

My body was warm, and alcohol coursed through my veins like liquid fire. My thoughts were scattered, making it difficult to piece everything together.

“Kiss me, Lucas,” I found myself begging, the words tumbling out without thought. “Please, Lucas Blackwood, let's do this,” I mumbled.

“Oh God, woman! Are you sure?” he asked.

I nodded in response and before I knew it, I was pressed against him, our mouths meeting in a heated kiss. The world around us seemed to fade away as we shared that electrifying moment.

It felt as if time had stopped, and all that mattered was the sensation of his lips on mine. As our lips danced passionately, I decided to surrender myself to Lucas Blackwood.

His touch was both tender and urgent as his fingers traced a fiery path along my skin, igniting a trail of sensation that sent shivers down my spine. My heart raced in sync with the rising tide of emotions. As he deepened the kiss, every nerve in my body seemed to come alive. My fingers found their way into his hair, pulling him closer as if I could meld my soul with his.

“I want you, Zara,” he said, breaking away from our kiss.

“I'm all yours, Lucas,” I replied, my eyes widening in shock as I realized we were already in bed.

He was above me, his legs nudging mine apart. As I complied, he claimed my lips once more before he entered me. I winced in pain at his intrusion, and he was equally shocked to discover he was my first.

“I love you, Lucas,” I said, enduring the discomfort of his taking.