All Chapters of His contract, my chains : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Alina's POV —----- The car door slammed shut, and I was still laughing at nothing."I don't even know why you're here," I slurred, pressing my forehead against the cool glass of the window. "Like, seriously. Do you just... wander around looking for drunk women to harass?""I was having a drink." Damien's voice was flat, controlled, like he was trying very hard to stay that way. "You were the one who fell into me.""I did not fall." I muttered between hiccup."You tripped over your own feet and grabbed my shirt to keep from face-planting.""I was... testing the structural integrity of your suit." I waved a hand vaguely. "Very well made, by the way. Expensive. Probably costs more than my rent.""Probably," he agreed dryly also very drunk.I turned to look at him. Even in the dim light of the car, even drunk, he was infuriatingly handsome. Sharp jaw, dark hair, eyes that seemed to see right through me. The kind of man who'd never tripped over anything in his life."You know I hate you,

--- The reflection of the sun through the window across my face woke me up. The bed was cold and rumpled from last night. My head was pounding, my body aching. I sat up, clutching the sheet to my chest, and looked around. The room was a mess. My dress on the floor, his shirt draped over the chair, the sheets tangled and twisted. Evidence of what had happened. But he was gone. I swung my legs out of bed and walked to the living room. Empty. The bathroom. Empty. The kitchen. Empty. He'd left a note on the counter. Just a few words in sharp, precise handwriting: Had to leave.-D I stared at the note. My hands were shaking. My head was spinning. D? I tried to remember. The bar. The whiskey. A man. A handsome man with dark hair and piercing eyes. We'd talked, laughed or I was the one laughing. Then I kissed me. But his face... I couldn't quite place it. I pressed my palms to my eyes, trying to force the memory. But it was fragments. A cologne I recognized. A voice that sounded

I covered my face with both hands, groaning. "Fine. Yes. He was big. Yes, he knew exactly what he was doing. And yes, it was the best sex I've ever had. Are you happy now?"Phoebe squealed. "Does Adrian know about this?. But this is incredible. You hate him. He hates you. And you had mind-blowing, earth shattering, can't-walk-the-next-day sex. This is literally a romance novel.""Except in romance novels, the guy doesn't show up the next day to gloat about it. And no Adrian doesn't know about this, why the hell would I tell him. Oh I should just call and say hey Adrian, I cheated?!.""Yeah maybe and don't beat yourself about it he was literally absent and you were lonely." she said, still giggling. "But honestly? This is the most interesting thing that's happened to you in months. You've been so stressed, so sad. At least for one night, you forgot everything."I was quiet. She wasn't wrong."And," she continued, "you have to admit, it's kind of hot. The whole enemies-to-lovers thing.

Alina's POV --- He walked out. The door clicked shut behind him. I stood there in the middle of his penthouse, surrounded by his furniture, his art, his scent in the air. My knees gave out. I sank onto the sofa, my hands shaking, my lips still burning, my heart still racing. My skin still tingled where he'd touched me. My lips still ached for the kiss he'd denied me. I was furious with him and even more furious with myself, my body buzzing with a mix of anger, shame, and something far more dangerous that I refused to name. I'd saved the company. I'd signed my freedom away. And somewhere deep down, in a place I refused to acknowledge, I knew Damien was right. I did want him. I hated him for it. Hated myself for it even more. I forced myself to stand. To walk. To leave. I grabbed my purse and stumbled out of the penthouse, not looking back. The elevator ride down felt endless. The lobby was empty. The doorman nodded as I passed, but I didn't see him. I didn't see anything. I dr

The next morning, I woke up with a hollow feeling in my chest. I'd barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Damien's face. His cold smile, his burning gaze, the way he'd leaned in so close I could taste his breath.I showered. I dressed. I drove to the hospital.The familiar smell of antiseptic hit me as I walked through the doors. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. I took the elevator to the third floor, walked down the hallway to room 312, and pushed open the door. My father lay there, just as he had for the past five days. Still. Silent. The ventilator hummed its steady rhythm. His hand rested on the white sheet, pale and motionless. I pulled up the chair beside his bed. I took his hand in mine. It was so cold, so thin. I held it gently, afraid I might break him. "Hey, Dad," I whispered. "It's me." No response. There never was. I talked anyway. I told him about the board meeting, about Harris's cold eyes and the sixty-day ultimatum. I told him about my plan,