All Chapters of Her Return : The Billionaire's Contract Wife: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

I looked at the busy New York street, then back at the cold, unyielding face of the most powerful woman I had ever met. She wasn't asking; she was telling. I had escaped Killian, but I hadn't escaped the Ashford machine.I opened the door and climbed into the backseat. As the car sped toward the airport, I wondered what kind of hellish, isolated "project" Camille was sending me to. I was just relieved to be thousands of miles away from Killian.KillianI stepped off the seaplane, and the heat hit me like a blast from a furnace, thick with the smell of salt and flowers. Forty hours of travel, hopping from jet to plane, and I was finally here: Aretusa Island. Some forgotten Ashford rock in the Solomon Islands.I shielded my eyes against the blinding sun. This wasn't some tiny hideout; this was a showpiece. The beach swept up to manicured lawns, and nestled against the lush green of the jungle was a massive, white stucco mansion all clean lines, floor-to-ceiling glass, and sprawling terr

KillianI couldn't believe it. Two days. That's how long it took for me to completely crack.I had tried everything. I’m Killian Ashford. I get what I want. I solve problems. My usual strategy involves four steps: analyze, acquire, negotiate, and dominate.Here on Aretusa, Nova had rendered every single one of those steps useless.Analyze: I tried to analyze her motivation. It should be simple: her mother's treatment. But she walked away from the money. The analysis kept coming up empty. Her motivation was pure spite, pure refusal to be owned, and that was an equation I couldn't solve.Acquire: I couldn't acquire her. She was already mine, technically, but she wasn't mine. And there was nothing on this island I could offer her that she needed. We were both prisoners of my grandmother's luxury.Negotiate: I tried to negotiate for two hours straight yesterday afternoon. I sat at that massive dining table, alone, drafting a "Reconciliation Proposal" on a sheet of paper. I offered her sep

I sighed. I knew I would regret this. I bent down, grabbed his arm, and hauled him upright. He was heavy, his body leaning into mine immediately. His skin was hot against my arm."Don't take this the wrong way," I muttered, struggling to keep him upright as we started stumbling back toward the house. "I'm only doing this because I don't want to explain to Camille why the CEO of Ashford Global died of alcohol poisoning on a private beach. It would complicate the contract."He didn't respond. He just leaned his massive weight against me, his breath warm and alcoholic against my hair. I was practically dragging him across the sand. The cold war had been breached by a bottle of Scotch, and now I was stuck acting like his reluctant nurse. This was going to be a long thirty days.KillianI woke up because my head felt like someone had swapped my brain with a concrete block and then hired a full-time construction crew to hammer away inside it. It was the kind of throbbing, earth-shattering a

NovaThe fear was a thin, cold film over everything. Forget the Cold War; that shit is dead now. We had something way more hectic: enforced emotional closeness. Killian had saved my life, and that fact was this massive, inconvenient boulder I couldn't just ignore. I knew the truth about his weakness and insecurities, but I kept that knowledge locked away tight, like a secret crush. On this island, though? It was just me and him. No one else to see us.That afternoon, we started dividing up the mansion. It was ridiculous in every sense, but we did it anyway; we were tossing out demands like two pissed-off teenagers splitting up a shared bedroom. Honestly, it felt safe because it was just plain professional. No feelings involved, thank god."The deal is simple," I said, standing in the living room. "Separate rooms, separate kitchen times, and any talk about the 'Master Plan' happen right here, 8 a.m. sharp. We're workmates, Killian. We are not a couple.""Fine," he agreed, his voice com

I couldn't sleep a wink. The adrenaline rush was long gone, but the buzzing anxiety was still doing laps in my stomach. I slid out of my room and ended up wandering into the huge, silent library on the first floor. It was all dark wood, floor-to-ceiling, jammed with thousands of books the rich Ashfords probably only glanced at.I found a quiet corner and practically sank into a giant, leather armchair, pulling a heavy art book onto my lap. I just needed to look at something that wasn't a spreadsheet or Killian's massive shoulders.A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and guess who walked in.He was wearing a dark t-shirt and sweats—total chill-out gear. He had a glass of water, and he was walking slowly, almost deliberately. He didn't clock me straight away.He stopped right in the middle of the room, looking completely lost. He wasn't the CEO, and he wasn't the pumped-up athlete; he was just a huge, lonely idiot in an enormous, silent house. He finally noticed me, and he hesit