All Chapters of BOUND TO THE BILLIONAIRE’S CONTRACT : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

If there is one thing I have learned since being dragged kicking and screaming into the Vance syndicate, it’s that billionaire doctors have absolutely zero concept of personal boundaries. The heavy double doors of the master suite swung open, and Dr. Evans strolled in like he owned the place. He was carrying a massive, sleek black leather medical bag, and he did not look happy. Actually, he looked like a disappointed dad who just caught his teenager sneaking out with the car keys. Alexander didn’t even flinch. He didn’t step away from me. He just slowly turned his head to glare at the doorway, his hand slipping from my neck to rest heavily on my shoulder. "I did not authorize you to come up here, Evans," Alexander growled, his voice vibrating right through my collarbone. "And I didn't authorize my critically wounded patient to unplug his own heart monitor, rip out a fresh IV, and take an elevator ride, but here we are," Dr. Evans shot back, completely unfazed by the fact that he

Look. They say you sleep better when your body is completely, utterly exhausted. That is a total lie. You don’t sleep. Your body just shuts down like a computer crashing, and you reboot hours later feeling like you got hit by a literal garbage truck. When I finally woke up the next morning, my brain was totally foggy. The room was bright, entirely flooded with harsh morning sunlight streaming in through the massive, un-curtained floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, trying to sink deeper into the absolute cloud of a mattress. It was so warm. Like, ridiculously warm. I was basically wrapped around this giant, solid human space heater, and my face was shoved against something that smelled like expensive cedarwood soap, clean laundry, and… medical antiseptic. My eyes snapped open. I wasn't holding a pillow. I was entirely plastered against Alexander’s right side. My right leg was thrown over his good thigh, my hand was flat against his bare sto

Waiting for a heavily medicated mafia boss to fall asleep is basically an extreme sport. You literally cannot move. You just lay there, completely frozen, listening to the rhythm of his breathing and praying to God that the massive dose of antibiotics and painkillers Dr. Evans pumped into him finally does its job. By 2:00 AM, the penthouse was dead silent. The only light in the massive bedroom came from the glowing city skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. Alexander was out. His breathing was deep, heavy, and completely even. I carefully, agonizingly peeled the heavy silk duvet off my body. I moved like a literal ninja. It took me a full two minutes just to slide my legs off the edge of the mattress. My fluffy socks hit the cold hardwood floor without making a sound. I grabbed the secure silver tablet I had hidden under my pillow, shoved it into the front pocket of my oversized hoodie, and crept toward the master bathroom. I slipped inside and gently pushed the heavy

Playing the docile, obedient mafia wife when you literally hate the guy sleeping next to you takes an insane amount of theatrical talent.I deserve an Oscar. Seriously. Put me in the Academy Awards right now.By 8:00 AM, I was already up, showered, dressed, and standing in the massive stainless-steel kitchen on the 62nd floor.I dropped the oversized gray hoodie for once and put on a plush, high-end white cardigan over a basic black tank top and leggings. I brushed my hair, did my little CVS skincare routine, and made sure I looked like a wholesome, totally unbothered suburban mom who was just happy to be here.Inside? My brain was running a marathon.The plan was simple: convince the entire Vance security apparatus that I had officially surrendered to my gold-plated cage. If they thought I was broken and obedient, they’d stop watching my every move like hawks.The heavy glass kitchen doors slid open, and Viktor walked in.He was dressed in his standard black suit, looking like he ha

Look, I’m not exactly Danny Ocean, okay? I have zero experience pulling off high-stakes heists.Before this entire nightmare started, my biggest criminal offense was guessing my neighbor’s Wi-Fi password back in Queens and using it to stream Netflix.But surviving the mafia apparently requires you to unlock a whole new level of unhinged behavior.I didn't sleep a single second that night.I literally just laid flat on my back on my side of the massive silk-sheeted bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to Alexander breathe. My brain was vibrating. I knew exactly what I needed to do. I had to steal a phone from the most observant, hyper-paranoid man in Manhattan.A guy who probably notices if a pen on his desk is moved half an inch to the left.By Saturday morning, my nerves were completely shot. I felt like I was vibrating out of my own skin. I dragged myself out of bed, slapped on some concealer so I didn't look like an actual walking corpse, and went out to the kitchen to start my