PLAYING THE BILLIONAIRE'S CONTRACT GAME

Emma

"Do you, Emma Ramirez, take Zane Mendoza as your lawfully wedded husband?"

As the words sliced through the stillness of the chapel, my lips parted, but no sound came. I stood there, frozen, feeling the weight of my wedding dress suffocating me as my heart beat wildly in my chest.

How the hell had I ended up here again?

My gaze drifted to the man standing before me, tall and commanding in his custom black suit. Zane Mendoza. The man who once held my heart in the palm of his hand only to crush it five years ago. His dark, cold eyes bored into mine. He looked as infuriatingly handsome as ever with a sharp jawline, perfectly tousled dark wilt cut hair, and lips that had once whispered promises I was naive enough to believe.

I couldn't decide what was worse -the fact that I was marrying the same man who had handed me a divorce paper five years ago or the fact that he knew exactly how trapped I felt and seemed to be enjoying it.

Back to the first time I had stood across from Zane like this.

I had been nineteen then and blinded by dumb love. Zane had been the bad boy, the reckless charmer who had swept me off my feet with his crooked smile and devil-may-care attitude. I had gone against my parents' advice and eloped with him and gotten married in a cheap chapel on the outskirts of town.

But the honeymoon phase hadn't lasted long. Two months later, the cracks had started to show. I had caught him sneaking off in the middle of the night, his phone buzzing incessantly with messages from women whose names I didn't know but whose intentions were painfully clear. A couple of times, I had stalked him, only to see him walking into hotel rooms with different women.

The final blow had come when one day, he had slid the divorce papers across the table, his expression so indifferent as if he was handing me a grocery list.

"I made a mistake." He had said. "I'm not cut out for marriage or commitment, Emma. I'm not ready for this. I'm tired of hurting you. I want to give you back your freedom."

Heartbroken and hurt, I had packed my things that same night and walked out of his house without a word. What he didn't know, what he still didn't know, was that I had been pregnant.

My parents had taken me back, but their forgiveness came with conditions. No one could know the truth. When my daughter was born, they insisted the world believe she was adopted. With no choice of my own, I had gone along with it. Then they had shipped me off to Boston, to start over.

And I had. Until now.

When my parents had called me a month ago, I had thought it was just another check-in. Instead, they asked me to return to the city and when I did, they dropped the bombshell. Their business was bankrupt and their debts was spiraling out of control. The only solution was an arranged marriage with Zane Mendoza, the man who now owned their debts -and, apparently, me.

I hadn't known until then just how far Zane's reach extended. That the man I had married as a reckless nineteen-year-old wasn't just a playboy but the heir to a secret mafia dynasty. Now, he was the mafia don himself, a man whose power and influence were as terrifying as they were undeniable.

And I had walked right into his trap for the second time.

I had tried to argue with my parents, to disagree with them and make them see reasons why this marriage could not hold. But they were adamant and wouldn't listen to me.

"You will marry Zane Mendoza, and that is final!" My father had yelled at me, his eyes wide and terrifying. And my mother had supported him.

"We have done so much for you even when you almost ruined your life and tried to bring shame to this family. And yet, this is how you pay us back? By going against our commands? How can you be so ungrateful!"

And then, my father had added. "If you go against us, then we will have no choice but to disown you. You are not worthy of being called our daughter!"

"Emma Ramirez." The priest's voice pulled me back to the present moment as he repeated himself again. "Do you take Zane Mendoza as your lawfully wedded husband?"

Zane's eyes didn't waver from mine. If anything, they seemed to darken, daring me to say no, daring me to defy him in front of everyone.

I wanted to. God, I wanted to scream that this wasn't fair, that he didn't get to walk back into my life and take everything from me again. But my parents' angry and desperate faces flashed in my mind and my chest tightened.

For them, I had to. At least, to pay them back for all that they had done for me.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry and my heart heavy. I could feel the entire room holding its breath.

Zane smirked now, just enough to make my blood boil.

I hated him. I hated his arrogance, his audacity, his ability to make me feel like I was still that naive nineteen-year-old who had thought love could conquer anything.

But I hated myself more for still feeling the tiniest flicker of something when I looked at him. And what I hated the most was that I had no other choice.

"Yes." My voice seemed to break the tension in the room and I could see the smiles of relief on my parents face from where they were seated.

"Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

As the priest's words rolled out of his tongue, I kept my eyes locked with Zane, wondering if I had just made the biggest mistake of my life.

Emma

As I stood in front of the mirror in my new room, running a towel over my damp skin, I tried not to think about how ridiculous I looked pretending this was normal. The silk robe I had draped over the chair caught my eye, but I ignored it, opting for my usual lacy black set.

The truth? I didn't feel like dressing for comfort. I didn't feel like giving him the satisfaction of thinking I was trying to impress him, even indirectly. This was not a second honeymoon.

I tugged the strap of my bra into place and pushed my damp hair off my shoulders. My reflection stared back at me and that was when I noticed a figure standing by the doorway like some smug predator who knew exactly what he was doing.

Zane.

I gasped wide eyed, grabbing the robe from the chair and pressing it against my chest as I spun around.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded, my heart pounding loudly against my chest.

Jesus Christ! This man had just seen me half naked!

Zane leaned against the doorframe, the smirk on his face nothing short of annoying. His inked arms crossed over his chest, the tattoos winding their way across his tanned skin like a dark and dangerous story I didn't want to read.

"You're in my house, Emma." His voice was low and almost amused. "Do I really need to knock?"

"Yes!" I snapped, holding the robe tighter against me. "That's basic human decency, Zane. Ever heard of it?"

His smirk deepened, and he took a step into the room. I instinctively backed away, my bare feet brushing against the cold wood floor.

"I've already given you more privacy than I should." He said, his eyes flicking to the bed and then back to my half clad body. "Letting you have your own room when you're supposed to be sleeping in my room and warming my bed as my wife? Generous, don't you think?"

"Generous?" I repeated with a scoff of disbelief. "Do you even hear yourself?"

He took another step forward, and the air in the room shifted, thickened.

"Zane, don't." I warned, but he ignored me, his gaze moving over me like he was taking his time cataloging every inch. His closeness was suffocating, but it wasn't just that. It was the way he carried himself, the way his confidence filled every corner of the room, leaving no space for me to breathe.

"Relax." He murmured as he reached me, his hard torso pressed lightly against my stomach, causing the space in between my legs to tighten and swell. I gulped as his hand brushed a strand of wet hair away from my face. His fingers were warm, and I hated how my body tensed.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He added and I stepped back, but he followed, his hand sliding to the curve of my hip.

"Stop it." I said, my voice unsteady now.

"Why should I stop?" His voice came in a raspy whisper now as his piercing, midnight blue eyes locked into mine, daring me to stop him. "Give me one reason why I should stop."

I planted my hands firmly on his hard chest, pushing him away. But Zane didn't look annoyed. If anything, he looked amused. Like he was enjoying this.

"I won't let you sleep with me, Zane." I blurted out but Zane's smirk only widened.

"You're my wife. I don't recall asking for your permission."

"This isn't a real marriage." I glared at him. "You brought me from my parents. So, don't pretend it is."

Zane caught my wrist, holding it gently but firmly enough to make me pause.

"You've been gone five years, Emma." His tone was serious now. "I'm not going to let you slip away again."

"I'm not running." I shot back, wrenching my hand free.

His smile twisted into something darker, more predatory.

"Good. Because you won't get far." He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear, causing heat to rise up my face again. "There are men stationed at every door, every corner. If you so much as step outside without my permission, they'll bring you back to me."

I plastered a smirk of my own and clenched my jaw.

"Don't flatter yourself." I said coldly. "I'm not planning to run. I'm planning to kill myself."

For the first time, his expression faltered. It was only for a split second, but I saw it -a flicker of fear. He quickly camouflaged it under his usual mask of cold indifference.

"Is that what you want, Em? To be free of me?"

My stomach tightened in knots. 'Em'. That was the way he used to call me when we were still together five years ago. He had no right to call me by that name again.

"Yes."

He nodded slowly, as if weighing my words.

"Then let's make a deal."

I raised a brow. "What kind of deal?"

"One year." His voice was steady and serious. "Stay married to me for one year. If you're still unhappy after that, I'll let you go. No strings attached."

For real?

I studied him, searching his face for any sign of deceit.

"You'd let me walk away?"

"I'd let you leave." His tone was almost convincing. Then his gaze darkened, his eyes locking onto mine. "But on one condition."

I narrowed my eyes. "What condition?"

"We consummate the marriage."

My stomach flipped, and I stepped back, putting as much distance between us as I could. Consummate the marriage? I was never planning to sleep with him in the first place!

"No!" I said firmly. "I'd never!"

"Then there's no deal." He replied, his voice annoyingly calm.

I stared at him, my mind racing. As much as I didn't want to sleep with him, the thought of being trapped here with this same man who had once broken my heart and who I hated so much, was unbearable. I analyzed the two situations. Be in this marriage for one year and gain my freedom or stay married to him forever and be subject to whatever he wanted to do to me?

From the look of things, the first option was the best.

"Fine." I said finally, the word tasting like poison on my tongue. "But only under one condition of my own."

His brow arched, intrigued. "I'm listening."

"If I'm happy by the end of the year, you let me decide what happens next."

His smirk returned, lazy and annoying.

"If you're happy by the end of the year, Em, I won't need to let you decide anything."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means..." He said, stepping closer again, his hand brushing lightly against my arm. "That if you're happy, you're mine. Forever."

I opened my mouth to argue, but his fingers trailed down to my hand, his touch setting my skin on fire.

"Get some rest." He murmured, his smirk softening into something almost tender. "Goodnight Em."

Then, just like that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone. I smiled bitterly as I watched him leave.

If he thought that this was going to be easy, he had got another thing coming.

I would make sure I make this marriage the worst experience of his life, that he wouldn't think twice about letting me go.

Emma

I woke up to the shrill ringing of my phone. For a moment, I didn't know where I was. My body felt stiff, tangled in the oversized sheets of a bed that wasn't one that I was used to. The events of last night came crashing back into my head and for a fleeting second, I considered ignoring the call altogether. But then, I saw the name flashing on the screen. It was my cousin; Eleanor.

Sliding out from under the heavy duvet, I sat on the edge of the bed and answered with a raspy, sleepy voice.

"Emma!" Eleanor's voice exploded in my ear, followed immediately by Isla's excited giggle.

"Congratulations!" They shouted in unison, their voices gleeful and carefree.

Despite myself, I smiled. It had been weeks since I last heard Isla's voice, and I didn't realize how much I had missed her until now.

"Thanks." I said softly, holding the phone close.

"Emma, this is a big deal!" Eleanor's voice was filled with exaggerated drama. "Do you know how many women would kill to be in your shoes? Zane Mendoza! That man is the 'It Man'. Rich and dangerous, and all. Even the tabloids are losing their minds."

I sighed and rolled my eyes before steering the conversation away from my sudden and unwanted marriage.

"How's Paris?" I asked.

"It's amazing!" Isla chirped, her sweet voice bringing warmth to my chest. "We went to the Eiffel Tower yesterday, and Eleanor made me eat snails!"

I laughed despite myself. "Snails, Isla? Did you like them?"

"Ew, no!" She said, giggling. "But Eleanor said it's part of the 'French experience.'"

Eleanor's voice returned, smug and playful. "We'll be back soon, and we're coming straight to see you. You can tell us all about your new life over champagne. The type that wealthy folks drink."

I laughed at her ridiculous statement. "Can't wait to see you both."

"Can't wait to see you too, big sis!" Isla giggled and my smile wavered slightly at the title she had just called me with. She didn't know the truth and thought I was her older sister. Telling her the truth about me being her mother was a conversation I wasn't ready to have yet. At least, not in my one year contract marriage with Zane.

Before I could say more, a loud noise suddenly interrupted us. It was a sharp, cracking noise that caused my entire body to stiffen and the phone nearly slipped from my fingers.

"What was that?" Eleanor asked sharply.

"I... I'm not sure," I stammered, already rising to my feet. "I'll call you back."

Hanging up, I made my way out of the room, my hands gripping the banister as I descended the grand staircase.

When I reached the foyer, I froze.

Zane was standing in the center of the room with a cigar between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the air. He was shirtless, his tattooed torso gleaming under the harsh chandelier light. His other hand gripped a gun, the barrel still smoking.

On the floor before him was a man, haggard, bloodied, and trembling. A gunshot wound in his leg oozed with blood, staining the expensive tiles beneath him. Surrounding them were Zane's men, their tattooed arms crossed over broad chests, with their expressions cold and unfriendly.

"Are you ready to talk?" Zane's voice was calm but deadly.

The man on the floor whimpered, clutching his leg. "I'm telling the truth, boss. I swear! The goods were hijacked by Don Carlos's men at the border. It wasn't my fault!"

Zane exhaled a plume of smoke, his expression still calm. For a moment, I thought he might actually believe the man.

Then, without warning, he fired again.

The man screamed as the second bullet tore through his other leg.

My hands flew to my mouth, stifling the gasp that threatened to escape.

"Let's try this again." Zane said, crouching down so he was eye level with the man. "Tell me the truth, or I swear to God, it won't cost me a thing to end you right here."

The man sobbed, his voice breaking.

"Don Carlos... he threatened my family. He said he'd kill them if I didn't give him the transportation map. I had no choice!"

Zane's jaw tightened, the name Don Carlos clearly struck a nerve inside of him.

"Carlos, that old bastard." He muttered under his breath. Then, he hissed at the wounded man.

"You're lying. Carlos doesn't make threats. He makes deals. How much did he pay you?"

The man shook his head frantically.

"No, I swear..."

"I'm done with you." Zane said, standing and raising the gun to the man's head, ready to end him.

"No!" The word tore from my throat before I could stop it.

Zane paused and his head snapped toward me. For a moment, our eyes locked, and the tension around him died.

"Emma." He called my name softly. Then, biting his bottom lip, he lowered the gun and handed it to one of his men.

"Take him away." He ordered and they obeyed at once. Two of the men dragged the bloodied man to his feet and hauled him out.

Zane turned back to me, his expression still calm. Then, he stubbed out his cigar on a nearby ashtray and strode toward me.

"Good morning, Mi Reina." He said smoothly, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

I flinched, my body still trembling with fear.

He smirked and pulled back a little, his hand sliding around my waist.

"Scared of me already, Mrs. Mendoza?"

"What..." My voice cracked. I swallowed hard, trying again. "What was that?"

"Business." He said simply, as if that explained everything.

I shook my head. "You can't just..."

"Emma." His tone was firm but not unkind. "You don't need to concern yourself with what you saw. It's my business to handle."

Handle it? I scoffed in my head. Is that how causal he valued human life?

He tilted his head, studying me. "How about breakfast at my favorite restaurant? Go get dressed."

Then, without another word, I turned and headed back up the stairs, my legs shaky beneath me.

A few minutes later, I stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the delicate satin dress Zane had sent up for me. It was a soft champagne color, clinging to my curves in a way that made me feel both elegant and exposed. My reflection stared back, my large amber brown eyes uncertain. My hair was pulled into a messy bun, a few loose strands framing my face. I looked put together, but the truth was far from it. My fingers trembled slightly as I adjusted the thin straps of the dress. I clenched them into fists to stop the shaking.

I didn't hear the door open at first as I was lost in my thoughts. And then, I saw Zane through the mirror, leaning casually against the doorway, his eyes scanning me from head to toe with an intensity that made my skin prickle. A smirk played on his lips.

"Why are you taking so long?" He asked as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I like my women obedient, Em."

I froze as he closed the distance between us in a few strides. His cologne -a mix of musk and danger, made my head spin. His hand brushed my arm, then slid down to my waist. My breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips grazing my ear.

"You look beautiful." He murmured, his voice low and almost possessive.

Before I could respond, his hand slipped lower, slipping underneath my dress and I felt his fingers press against the thin fabric of my panties. Heat rushed to my face, my body betraying me as I gasped softly.

"Zane..." I managed to whisper shakily.

He didn't stop. Instead, he nuzzled his head into my neck as he kissed on it gently, causing me to flutter my lashes close as the sweet sensation weakened my resolve. Slowly and gently, he circled his thumb against my panties, my moistness welcoming him.

But then I forced myself to remember. This wasn't the carefree man I had known five years ago. This was Zane Mendoza, a completely different man who smoked cigars while shooting people without flinching. A man who held power in the palm of his hand and used it ruthlessly.

"Stop." I whispered again, reaching down to grab his wrist. He paused, his smirk faltering slightly as he stepped back.

"You've changed." I said, locking eyes with him. "You're not the same guy who used to jump the window into my room and laugh at everything. That boy hated commitment and didn't have a single tattoo. Now you're... this. A mafia don who doesn't bat an eye at killing people."

For a moment, he said nothing. His gaze softened just a fraction, but his face remained unreadable. Instead of answering, he knelt down in front of me. I flinched slightly, unsure of what he was doing, until I saw him reach for the strap of my heels. His fingers worked deftly, buckling the strap as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You're right." He said, looking up at me. "I'm not that boy anymore. Back then, I was a fool who didn't realize your worth. It takes a man to see that you're gold, Emma. Gold enough to be the only one who could ever bring me to my knees."

I stared at him, my throat tightening at his words as he stood up again, towering over me again. He reached for my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. The gesture was so gentle, it made my heart ache.

"Come on now, Mi Reina. We're going to be late."

Oh my god. What had I gotten myself into?