Falling For My Contractual Wife Novels & Stories

Without thinking about the desperate measures I might have to take, or the mistakes I have already made, I replied immediately, “Yes!” “I will be your contract wife and so be it!” After I replied, everything was blurry. I was losing myself and I had no control. I couldn’t help it, I saw myself falling to the width of the mansion floor. Everywhere was pitch dark. Was this the end? I didn’t understand what was going on, but I was deeply sorry for Valerie. Even when she did him badly at some point, I had no right to cross the lines of getting married to her ex-fiancé.

Damien Blackwood. Isabelle felt a shudder run down her spine when she heard those words. She was a wife, at least on paper. To one of the most powerful and mysterious men in the world. The idea should have filled her with revulsion at the mockery of such a sacred commitment. Instead, it electrified her nerve endings with a strange, vulnerable thrill. Get a grip, she scolded herself sternly. This was merely a performance, not a romantic dalliance. A means to an end to secure her future legacy and immense professional clout. There would be no room for whimsical fancies or emotional entanglements.

He held a bulk of papers which he dropped on the papers, sliding one to me. “ I am here to finalize the contract. Here, that is where you are supposed to sign in.” his fingers tapped the spot. My hands caressed the papers, a quick glance through before my pen slipped over it, and I shoved it back. “We also need an account that the compensation f*e would be paid into.” He sounded so formal, like we haven't been talking all these while. As though he had gotten the feelings out in such a short time. I knew that this was what I wanted, so why did my heartache so much? What exactly was this pain I felt?

I stop, not sure how to finish that sentence. “Different how?” “She’s real. Honest. She doesn’t want anything from me except what I’ve explicitly offered.” I stare out the window at Manhattan streaming past. “And she sees me. The real me, beneath all the bullshit. And she’s not running.” “Yet.” “Yet,” I agree quietly. “So what are you going to do about it?” Good question. What am I going to do about the fact that I’m falling for my contract wife? That this arrangement has become something I don’t know how to control?

I had never wanted to break someone's jaw as much as I did right now. How dare him touch what was mine? Mine. The word echoed in my head and I recoiled at how easily I had lost my shit over what wasn't even mine. Allison wasn't mine, not really. The contract only made her my wife in name, not in truth. Yet, in that moment that I saw her dancing and laughing with him, I had forgotten all about the contract. When we reached the Villa, she stormed out and walked in before I had even turned off the engine.

I couldn’t tell him what he wanted to hear. I shifted slightly “I was fulfilling my role as your wife. Everything between us—everything we’ve shared—it’s all tied to the contract. That’s all it ever was.” His brows furrowed, confusion flashing across his face. “What the hell are you talking about?” “The contract,” I repeated, hating the words as they left my lips. “You’re the one breaking it. Have you forgotten what we agreed to? If either of us develops real feelings, the contract is nullified.” I paused “We have only a few months left, Nicholas. Let’s not complicate....”

“Why would you think I won’t like it? Florence, what the hell! You’re acting as if I am some sort of monster. When was I ever?” “You’re not, okay? You’re perfect, Scott. That’s the problem. We have a deal, and falling in love with you wasn’t part of it. But I couldn’t help it, could I? You made sure to make me fall for you in a way that I couldn’t get out of it without getting hurt,” Florence’s tears were now running down her cheeks with full force and she honestly didn’t mind anymore. “And then I found out I was pregnant with your baby, I didn’t want you to think badly of me. To think that I planned this so I could get your money. It’s not who I am. But we’re not really married, right? You’

I inhale a deep breath closed my eye and looked at him to answer his question. "There's nothing. You must have misunderstood." I replied looking into his eye's that he wouldn't doubt me. He then wrapped his arms around my shoulder pulling me near his chest. "I knew it." He whispers near my ear making me die in guilt. "Game over. Now someone tell me this, how can I make my marriage manifest in the office and the media?" "Now if I say she is my wife, then everyone would ask that if she is my wife then why was she working as an employee in the office? Now you two give me some ideas what should I do?"

Maybe she misses how he used to kiss her. “Damn it!” I slam my fist against the counter, wincing at the sharp pain that follows. I didn’t see this coming. Falling for her was never part of the plan. It just happened. At first, I told myself it wasn’t a bad thing to feel this way about her. After all, she’s my wife—even if it’s only on paper. I was ready to ignore the rules we set in that ridiculous contract. Ready to break every one of them for her.

Lock myself in my bedroom and lean against the door, breathing carefully through the sharp ache beneath my ribs. Performed adequately. I slid down to sit on the floor, knees pulled to my chest, and finally let myself acknowledge the truth Diana saw so clearly over lunch. I'm falling for a man who sees me as a business arrangement. A convenient solution to a public relations problem. A wife who performs adequately when required. And the worst part—the part that makes me want to scream or cry or both—is that I walked into this with eyes wide open. Signed the contract. Took his money. Agreed to every term.