All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Contract Wife Can't Let Go: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Dana POV: The Cousins Want Wood and Ward Derek sees me and pauses, his face glum. He asks, “Did catch some some sleep last night?” “Yes.”“Are you sure? You don’t look like you slept at all.”My eyes have been smarting, and I've been struggling to keep my hands off them. I quickly head for the small restroom attached to the office. The mirror doesn’t lie. It shows my eyes are bloodshot, the lids are puffy, and the whites almost pink. I look like I wept for hours and didn't sleep at all. When I step back out, Derek is holding a pair of dark aviators spares. Sunglasses aren't my thing and my brother knows it. “Derek, I—”“Here,” he says. “We’re going into a meeting in fifteen. It's a group from New York, a company called The Barn. They used to be our biggest competition up there. Now they want to collaborate.”I take the glasses and put them on. “Derek. Next time, maybe tell me the night before so I can at least pretend to prepare?”He shrugs as we start walking toward the conferen

Dana POV: Alex Now Has Office NearbyI know how this scene must look like if I was the one standing at the door like Alex is doing in this moment, and seeing my ex wife with three guys who are apparently her brothers: It must remind him of the gangster way Jack and Eddie harangued him in Los Angeles, cuffed him and pursued him. I must look like the head of this gang who could order another session of haranguing standing here with Jack and the rest of the boys. Cilian and Jack kind of look alone so he may reasonably believe be apprehensive. Derek puts a fist to his mouth and says, “ahem . . .”Alex’s face drains of color for half a second, pale with shock, then flushes slightly as he recovers. He owns this building. He owns the company. He owns every desk, every chair, every salary in this room. Including mine. Yet, the sight of us sends him reconsidering his future for the next few minutes. He steps fully inside and closes the door behind him, his gait confident again.“Did I int

Dana POV: On A Private Jet With Her Ex HusbandThe tarmac heat shimmers under the late afternoon sun as we approach the jet. It looks like a big white pastel crayon, almost cartoonish against the gray concrete. I stop walking, forcing Alex to pause beside me."Is this all part of a plan to punish me further," I ask, "or is this just random?"He turns and gives me a placid stare. He looks like I've slapped him. We stand there, fifty feet from the plane. From here I can see the faint registration numbers on its tail."And when did you start flying on private jets?" I add, nodding toward it.He shakes his head and starts walking again without a word. Oh no, you must have a response, Alex. I walk fast after him, my hands tight around my hand bag."Are you not going to answer me?" I call after him.He stops abruptly and faces me but there’s no anger in his eyes. "Dana," he says patiently, "I've always had a private jet. I just never flew on it."He starts walking again toward the stairs. I

Alex POV: Dana And Jodie MeetIt’s a silent face-off between Jodie and Dana. I never expected it will ever happen again where the two will meet this way. Jodie's gaze is cold and narrow, Dana’s own is calm and respectful. Neither says a greeting to each other. Ben smiles and extends his hand and I take it wile Dana looks from him to me and back, keeping a subordinate smile on her face. “Ben,” I say. “Good to see you.”“Alex. I didn’t expect to run into you here. You’re everywhere these days.”“You know how it is.”We carry on small talk about the deal, about how Ben’s been shuttling between coasts for the last month. He glances at Dana and Jodie but says nothing. Smart man.Then his phone rings and he checks it, he gives me an apologetic look. “That’s my meeting. They’re ready.” He shakes my hand again. “Catch you later.”He excuses himself and heads toward the elevators. I turn back to Jodie. She's standing beside me, looking at everywhere but Dana's face, her face coloring a lit

Dana POV: Alex Apologizes I step back from the canvas to get a good look at what I've done. I've been at it since 4 and now it's almost dawn. The loft is quiet except for the snore of either Eddie or Jack, and outside, the city sleeps still, the quiet only interrupted by a dog barking or the whine of police sirens. I’m standing barefoot in my makeshift studio beside the window, drop cloth in my hand, brush in the other, tubes of paint scattered on a table like fallen soldiers.This one is simpler on a smaller canvas. There are no frantic layers. The browns and pinks are muted over a background of midnight black. Three vague shapes that could be figures or shadows or nothing at all are in the thick of activity. There are curves that might be heads, or grief wearing a hat. I don’t know yet. And I don’t need to. I go back to work and the brush moves on its own.I’m still cleaning the edges when Derek appears behind me, wearing a thick robe, his hair sticking up like he had been in a