Todos os capítulos de Contracted: The Billionaire’s Husband From The Commercial: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

CHAPTER TWELVE: THE AFTERMATH The gala was a blur of crystal chandeliers and murmured Italian, of women in gowns that cost more than Louis's old life and men who looked at him like he was a painting they couldn't quite figure out. Louis stayed close to Lorenzo's side, accepting the glasses of wine Lorenzo handed him, eating only the small bites Lorenzo placed on his plate. He nodded when Lorenzo nodded, smiled when Lorenzo smiled, and felt the walls closing in with every passing minute. He just wanted the night to end. Lorenzo was pulled away for a moment…someone important, someone who needed a word…and Louis stood alone by the bar, pretending to study the rows of expensive bottles. His jaw ached from last night and his throat... he didn't want to think about it. "Signor Volterra?" Louis turned. A woman stood beside him, late twenties maybe, with dark hair swept off her face and eyes that looked at him like she was already designing something around his bone structure. She

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE MORNING AFTER. “Let’s make love tonight, baby. I can’t hold back myself anymore…” Louis’s breath hitched at the thought of that. The words wrapped around him like silk and steel at the same time. ‘Make love.’ It sounded soft, but the way Lorenzo said it—raw, shaking with barely-leashed need…felt anything but gentle. This was it…tonight he was going to sleep with a man for the first time. The thought sent a nervous flutter through his stomach. He had never let anyone inside him. Never even imagined it until Lorenzo crashed into his life and turned everything upside down. Lorenzo kissed him again before he could overthink it…deep, devouring, tongue sliding against his like he was trying to claim every inch of Louis’s mouth. Hands roamed greedily. Lorenzo pushed the already-loose robe fully off Louis’s shoulders, letting it pool at his feet. Cool air kissed Louis’s bare skin, but Lorenzo’s palms were hot as they skimmed down his chest, his waist, his hi

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE LIE The kitchen was the only room in the house that felt like it belonged to someone else. White marble, copper pots hanging from the ceiling, and an overly expensive stove. The cook had looked at him like he'd grown a second head when he'd asked for ingredients. "You want to cook, Signor Volterra?" "Yes. And stop calling me that." Now Louis stood at the counter, flour dusted across his shirt, a pot bubbling on the stove, and for the first time in weeks, he felt like himself. His hands knew what to do. His body moved without thinking…chop, stir, taste, adjust. The smell of garlic and tomatoes filled the kitchen, warm and familiar, nothing like the perfume of expensive flowers or the cold scent of Lorenzo's cologne. He tasted the sauce and closed his eyes. It was good. Really good. He pulled out his phone and called Anya. "I need you to come to the kitchen." "Why?", she asked. "Just come. Pretty please." She appeared ten minutes later, her heels cl

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: CRACK ON GLASS. Louis heard the footsteps before he saw Lorenzo. Tired and heavy, the kind of footsteps that came after a long flight and too many meetings and hours of being someone else for other people. Louis knew those footsteps now. He'd learned to read them the way he used to read Chloe's breathing through the monitor in her hospital room. His heart was pounding and his hands were cold and his phone was face-down on the arm of the chair with the article still glowing on the screen. ‘The Hidden Husband. Why Won't Lorenzo Volterra Let the World See Louis? The threat has since been resolved.’ He'd read it so many times he had it memorized. The words were burned into his brain and into his chest and into the space behind his ribs where trust was supposed to live. Lorenzo walked into the library, loosening his tie, and stopped when he saw Louis's face. Louis didn't speak. He just looked at him and let him see the betrayal in his eyes, the hurt,

CHAPTER TWENTY: GAME ON OPEN BOARD. The cemetery was quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed against your ears and made every sound feel too loud. Louis knelt on the damp grass with his long hair pulled back into a low bun and placed the flowers on the grave…white lilies, his mother's favorite. He couldn't remember if his father had a favorite. He'd never thought to ask. "Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad." His voice was soft, meant only for the stones in front of him. "I'm sorry I haven't come in a while. Things have been complicated." He traced the letters of their names with his fingers. The stone was cold and older than it should be. They'd been gone too long. He'd been without them too long. "Chloe is doing okay. She's fighting. She's still fighting." His throat tightened. "I'm going to bring her next time. I promise. She wants to see you. She talks about you all the time." Behind him, Lorenzo cleared his throat. Louis shot him a side-eye look, sharp and quick. "What?" Lor