All Chapters of The Seduction Contract : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

"What do you mean you won't be at work tonight?" Anastasia, Freya's best friend at the pharmacy, asked with a confused look. "I know, Anastasia, but you just have to cover for me tonight. I promise I will cover your shift when I get back," Freya pleaded, her hands shaking as she grabbed her bag. "If you get back," Anastasia corrected her, her voice full of worry. "You said it yourself that Mr. Grant is dangerous. He almost got you in big trouble the last time you worked for him. He owns a casino, Freya! A casino is the scariest place to be at night. Dark things happen in those back rooms." "I know," Freya said, her voice dropping to a whisper. But even after telling michael about my mum, he humiliated me front of his friends and laughed as if I meant nothing to him” "Freya, I have watched you suffer with your mother since the day of the accident. You have tried everything to save her life, even risking your life in the process. Don't you think that maybe it's time you let her…”

"What? Where am I?" Freya screamed, her voice cracking as she jolted awake. The room was filled with the loud, continuous buzzing of her phone. She scrambled to find it under the heavy, silk covers. Her eyes widened when she saw the screen. Twenty missed calls? "Oh no," she whispered. It was Anastasia. Her best friend must have been calling her all night long. Freya dropped the phone on the bed, her heart racing as she tried to remember how she got here. The last thing she saw was the dark alley, the men in black suits, and that mysterious, handsome man holding a silver gun. She remembered the world spinning, and then... nothing. She looked around the room, and her jaw dropped. She had never seen anything like this in her life. The room was massive, twice the size of Michael’s entire house, and the bed she was lying on was very huge. The phone started ringing again. She jumped and quickly answered it. "I swear, Freya, I am going to kill you!" Anastasia’s voice screamed throu

"Who are you, and how the fuck did you get into my house?" Michael asked, his voice trembling even though he was trying to sound tough. He glared at the tall stranger standing in his living room, but as Darlington took a step closer, Michael’s bravado started to melt. "I said... leave her alone," Darlington repeated. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a deadly weight that made the air in the small room feel freezing. Michael scoffed, trying to hide his fear behind a fake smile. He let go of Freya’s arm and turned fully toward Darlington. "You’re in my house commanding me? Maybe you should show some respect. This is my home." "The only respect you should show here is to her," Darlington replied. He reached out, his large hand finding Freya’s waist and pulling her firmly against his side. The warmth of his body made Freya’s heart skip a beat, but she knew she had to play her part. Freya looked up at Michael, her eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and triumph. "Well, Michael, you

"Yeah, about that, Freya..." Dr. James started, his voice heavy with a tone she knew all too well. "You know the surgery shouldn't exceed next week. We are running out of time. If we don't get her into the theater by then—" "Stop, Doctor," Freya cut him off, her voice trembling. "Just stop. Please... let me just see her." Dr. James sighed, a look of pity in his eyes. He pointed toward the end of the sterile, white hallway. "She’s in Ward 4B. The nurses just finished her morning check-up. Go on." Freya walked down the corridor, her heart sinking with every step. The hospital was a maze of beeping monitors and the hushed whispers of grieving families. She pushed open the heavy door to her mother’s room and froze. Her mother, Eugene, looked smaller than the last time she saw her. She was swallowed up by the large, stiff hospital bed. A clear plastic tube—the drip—was taped to the back of her thin, pale hand, leading up to a bag of fluid hanging on a cold metal stand. Beside her, a

"Yeah, about that, Freya..." Dr. James started, his voice heavy with a tone she knew all too well. "You know the surgery shouldn't exceed next week. We are running out of time. If we don't get her into the theater by then—" "Stop, Doctor," Freya cut him off, her voice trembling. "Just stop. Please... let me just see her." Dr. James sighed, a look of pity in his eyes. He pointed toward the end of the sterile, white hallway. "She’s in Ward 4B. The nurses just finished her morning check-up. Go on." Freya walked down the corridor, her heart sinking with every step. The hospital was a maze of beeping monitors and the hushed whispers of grieving families. She pushed open the heavy door to her mother’s room and froze. Her mother, Eugene, looked smaller than the last time she saw her. She was swallowed up by the large, stiff hospital bed. A clear plastic tube—the drip—was taped to the back of her thin, pale hand, leading up to a bag of fluid hanging on a cold metal stand. Beside her, a he