Temptation Of The Contract Bride Novels & Stories

“This is the contract. You have until tomorrow to sign it.” Her brows furrowed as she glanced at the document. “I don't want your contract. I don't want your marriage. I just want to go home.” I felt my jaw tighten. Did she dare refuse my offer? I scoffed. “I'm giving you an opportunity most people would kill for.” “I'm not most people.” She shot back, meeting my gaze. Quite stubborn. I stand up, studying her body through my mask. “What's the cost of saving your mother's life, Freckles?” I asked, moving closer to her. “Tell me.”

But his tone, quiet, sure, made me wonder if maybe I’d run out of reasons to keep saying no to life. I took the envelope, opened it. My eyes skimmed the first line. “A contract marriage?” The laugh that escaped me was brittle. “You’re serious?” “Yes.” Before I could react, he stepped inside. No hesitation. His presence filled the room, crowding out the air. “I need a wife,” he said. “One year. Public appearances. No scandals. “And in return?” My arms folded tight across my chest. “You get your revenge,” he said, eyes locking on mine. “On Liam. On your sister. On every single person who watched you fall and pretended to feel sorry for you.”

Like if he didn’t move, he might break something right there in that corridor. He led me towards the nearest exit. I didn't protest, I just followed him. We stepped out to a clearing behind the hospital. Ethan stepped closer to me. Close enough that I could see the rage in his eyes. "Was this your plan?" he asked. "The contract marriage? Coming back to New York? Was it all part of some elaborate plan? Get close to me, secure your position, then what? Spring the child on me when it was convenient?" "That's not what happened."

Christopher disagreed. Benjamin hissed. “You don’t have to fall in love with the woman. It is a simple and easy contract marriage. You set the rules and the woman acts according to your rules. You can call off the marriage anytime. But if you can’t do this, then I don’t know how you can claim your possession.” Christopher tried to think of the possibility of finding a woman that would act as his fake bride and even agree to his rules. Will any woman ever agree to sign such a contract? He was confused about this new plan.

“You seem intelligent enough to understand the need for clarity.” I looked down. My breath caught. A contract. Cold. Precise. Brutal. Clause One: No emotional expectations between parties. Clause Two: The bride will not be given the title of Luna. Clause Three: The bride will have no authority or participation in pack decisions. Clause Four: The bride’s primary and only purpose is to bear strong heirs within a reasonable timeframe. A tremor ran through me. I didn’t look up immediately. I couldn’t. The words blurred, sharp edges digging into my mind like shards of glass.

he began, his voice cool and detached, a contrast to his earlier pronouncements. “This is not what it seems.” My stomach tightened. Deep down, I had known. “This is a contract marriage,” he stated, his eyes fixed on mine. “A temporary arrangement. You will play the role of my wife and the mother of my child, for exactly one year. After that, you will leave. Without the child.” My blood ran cold. Leave? Leave my child? “In return,” he continued, as if discussing the weather, “you will receive a substantial sum – $100 million – to kickstart your career. I will also purchase a house for you in New York, a place where you can begin your new life, unburdened.”

“Don't get ahead of yourself. It's not what you think, I’m not going to kiss you or anything.” “Well, you almost did.” Richard added, reminding me of the last few minutes. “No I did not.” I snapped, shooting him a glare. ”So, what are we doing here?” He asked, and I stood upright, folded my arms across my chest and matched his indifferent expression. “You don’t want my parents to find out I’m in a contract marriage with you, right?” I asked, and he arched his brow in confusion. “No one is supposed to know we're in a contract marriage, it says so on the contract.” He stated, trying to contradict me.

I said, forcing my voice to stay calm, “I don’t know what kind of crazy game you intend on playing, but whatever it is, I don’t have time for— “One hundred million dollars.” I reeled back, not sure if I had heard right. “Excuse me?” “Every month for three years. And all you need to do is marry me.” “I don’t understand.” my confusion made the words come out as a dry laugh. “It’s simple. I want you to be my contract bride for the next three years. There will be an option for you to give me an heir, but that part will be explained in the fine print.” “A hundred million a month? That’s more than three billion in three years!” My brain refused to accept the information. Was I having a stroke?