Semua Bab Rival's Contract Marriage : Bab 141 - Bab 150

Brandon’s POVI didn’t even realize I was pacing until Mom leaned against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed like I’d just told her I got someone pregnant or something.“Brandon,” she said slowly, like I was some bomb she didn’t want to set off, “you’ve been wearing a hole in my floor for the last ten minutes. Either sit down or start paying rent.”“I can’t just sit down,” I muttered, running my hand through my hair for the hundredth time today. “He won’t even talk to me, Mom. He just… looks at me like I’m the enemy.”“Maybe because you’re acting like a stalker?” she suggested, raising her eyebrows.I flinched. “I’m not— okay, yeah, maybe showing up outside his apartment every day wasn’t… ideal.”“Not ideal?” she said, tilting her head. “That’s what you call camping in front of someone’s place like you’re auditioning for a bad romance movie?”I groaned and dropped into the chair, my knees bouncing. “It’s the only way I can see him. If I don’t show up, he disappears. He moved ba

Brandon’s POVI didn’t even want to come to this convention.Like, at all.But Coach said it would be “good exposure” for me and the team. Networking, PR photos, the whole fake-smile package. And here I was — wearing a stupid badge with my name in bold letters like anyone needed a reminder of who I was.The ballroom was huge. Too many people, too much chatter, and the kind of hotel carpet pattern that made you dizzy if you stared too long. I was halfway through a lukewarm bottle of water when I saw him.Cameron.It was like the air shifted. My grip on the bottle tightened, and my pulse did that annoying jump it always did when I wasn’t ready to deal with him. He was across the room, talking to some guy in a navy suit. Sharp jaw, perfect tie, hair done like he had a personal stylist — which, knowing him, he probably did.And then, like the universe hated me, the event organizer appeared beside me with a clipboard.“Brandon, right? You’re at Table 14. Oh! And you’ll be sitting next to—”

Cameron’s POVBy the time I got home from the conference, my head felt like it had been in a vice all day. Between the fake smiles, the corporate jargon, and… Brandon… sitting next to me for hours, I was exhausted. I didn’t even bother turning on the lights when I stepped into the apartment.I just wanted silence.But apparently, life was in the mood to punch me in the face again.Because there he was.Drake.Leaning against my kitchen counter like he owned the place, a glass of whiskey in his hand, eyes that dark, sharp shade that always meant trouble.I dropped my bag onto the couch. “What the hell are you doing here?”He smiled—slow, deliberate, like he’d been waiting for me. “Relax, little brother. Just thought I’d pay you a visit.”“I don’t need a visit.” I started to head toward my room, but he stepped in my way, blocking the hall.“Conference go well?” he asked, too casual.“Move.”“Who’d you sit next to?” His voice had this knowing edge to it, and my stomach twisted.I glared.

Cameron POvI was halfway down the lobby, scrolling through my phone and mentally running through the points for the lunch meeting, when I saw him.Brandon was Standing just outside the glass doors of my office building, like he’d been waiting there for hours. He looked… awful. His hair was messy, like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times, and his shirt was wrinkled. There were dark shadows under his eyes. The Brandon I knew never looked like this.My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to keep walking, my steps steady, my expression unreadable.The moment I pushed open the door, he was right there.“Cam, please—” His voice cracked, and he grabbed my hand before I could react. “Please just… just give me a minute.”I swallowed hard, glancing around. The sidewalk wasn’t exactly crowded, but enough people were passing by that it made me uncomfortable. “Brandon, let go,” I said quietly, trying to keep my tone firm.“I can’t,” he said. His eyes were glassy, like he was one deep b

Cameron POVI was still staring at the proposal draft when Irene barged into my office without knocking. That was already a red flag—she only ignored knocking when something huge happened.Her face was pale, lips pressed tight like she was trying not to swear. She dropped a folder on my desk, hard enough to make my pen roll off.“Cameron,” she said, voice clipped. “We’ve got a problem.”I leaned back in my chair, already exhausted, and rubbed my eyes. “Please tell me it’s just a typo in the numbers again. Because if it’s about decimals, I swear I’ll—”“It’s not decimals.” She cut me off, sharp. “It’s the Devilles.”My stomach sank. “What about them?”She crossed her arms. “They just acquired Smarthome.”I blinked. “You’re joking.”“I wish I was.” She tapped the folder. “Signed this morning. Official statement went out thirty minutes ago. And they didn’t stop there. They announced they’ll be competing for the bid. High-profile. Cocky. They basically said they’re going to crush everyone