The Contract Lover Novel Nina Morrison Novels & Stories

Actually, Mara, a billionaire showed up at my door last night and threatened to kill someone if I didn't sign this contract to marry him, and now I'm delivering mysterious packages to journalists. Yeah, like that didn’t sound crazy at all. ~0~ The package felt heavier than it looked as I slipped it into my purse. Whatever was inside felt ominous, and the weight of what it could be, made my shoulders ache. The Metro Tribune building was a gleaming tower of glass and steel in downtown Manhattan, the kind of place where important people made decisions that shaped the world. I'd walked past it dozens of times on my way to job interviews, never imagining I'd have a reason to enter.

She placed it on the desk and left without a sound. Adrian slid the folder toward Elena. “Read.” Elena stared at it. Her hands felt numb. “What is that?” she asked anyway. “The contract.” Elena let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You already have a contract prepared?” Adrian’s eyes didn’t soften. “I don’t improvise.” Of course he didn’t. Elena’s gaze flicked to the folder, then back to him. “You’re insane.” “Read.” Elena took a step forward, lifted the folder, and opened it. The pages inside were dense with legal language. Clean font. Sharp margins. Like even the paper had been trained to be obedient. Her eyes skimmed.

I watch him walk away, leaving me alone with a contract and a choice that could change everything. My phone buzzes. Mia. Mia: “How’s the business dinner?” I look at the contract. At the door Adrian just walked through. At my half eaten food that cost more than I make in a day. Me: “It’s complicated.” I pick up the contract with shaking hands. Inside, written in clean legal prose, is an offer I can’t afford to refuse and can’t afford to accept. Six months of pretending to be in love with Adrian Knight. The question is: can I trust myself not to make it real?

She was twenty-six, exhausted, and one missed payment away from losing the only thing she had built for herself with her own hands. Elena sat up, grabbed the folder, and flipped through the contract pages under the dim lamp light. Clause 4: No physical intimacy of any kind. Clause 7: No emotional attachment. Clause 12: Complete discretion. Breach results in immediate termination of payment and legal action. Adrian Voss had thought of everything. She pictured him again — that cold, commanding man in his perfect suit, offering her a fortune like it was pocket change. The way his stormy gray eyes had looked at her like she was both a problem and a solution. The quiet authority that made the sma

He never cared beyond what she could provide: a suitable wife, an acceptable companion for charity galas and business dinners, someone who knew how to smile at the right moments and fade into the background when required. She had traded genuine love… the kind that asked nothing and gave everything, for a life where she existed as nothing more than a convenient transaction. A merger of families. A checkmark on someone else's list of accomplishments. Her chest tightened, the familiar ache spreading through her ribs like cracks in ice. Nina closed her eyes briefly, pressing her fingertips against her temples as if she could physically push the thoughts away. Not tonight, she told herself firmly

CEO, Vance International. "It’s a contract, Sienna. Purely professional," he continued. "One year. I provide the protection, the lifestyle, and the resources to ensure Liam Thorne never wins another contract in this city. You provide the image." Sienna looked at her bare feet again, then at the man sitting across from her. He was a stranger, but he was offering the one thing nobody else would: a way to fight back. "I need another drink," Sienna said, reaching for her glass.

He hadn't come up himself—had sent Simone instead, along with a courier who'd delivered a breakfast spread that would have fed Mira for a month: fresh fruit, pastries still warm from the oven, coffee that smelled like heaven and cost like it too. "I know that Kieran Locke doesn't do anything without a reason," Simone said quietly. "He's not a man who makes charitable donations to strangers. Whatever his motivation is for this marriage, it's not benevolence. But that's not my concern. My concern is you. And from where I'm sitting, this contract is the best deal you're going to get." Mira picked up the pen. It was heavy, weighted with the kind of importance that made her fingers feel clumsy.

The pen was a loaded gun, and Isla was about to pull the trigger on her own life. She stared at the signature line, black ink on cream paper so expensive it probably cost more than her last meal. The contract sat on Adrian Vale's desk, all those legal words all different ways of saying the same thing: you're mine now. Her hand shook. She hated that it did. This wasn't a choice. Choices were for people who still had something left to lose. Seventy-two hours ago, her entire world had exploded in real-time, broadcasted live for everyone.

NICOLE A contract marriage was not something I had ever imagined for myself. Love wasn't even on my bucket list. But here I was, considering a contract marriage with Marcus, a wealthy young man. As I sat on the couch, gazing out the window, I noticed the serene surroundings, and it looked like it was going to rain. I sent a text to Nina, telling her that I had made it home and that she could enjoy the after-party on her own.