The CEO's Obsession With His Contract Wife

Kimberly.

I always feel dizzy with excitement whenever Eric kisses me. We've been together for two years, and I can count the number of times he has ever sucked my lips and tongue.

He's doing it now, sucking my tongue with reckless abandon in the middle of Chicago's most exclusive club. The elite club.

I don't know how my boyfriend got access to this place that everyone in it reeks of money, both old and new, but he did.

The blasting pop music and the people on the dance floor gyrating their bodies all muffle around us. All I'm aware of is Eric's tongue probing its way down my throat.

He groans into my mouth before breaking the hottest kiss he's ever given me since we started dating.

A beautiful smile lights up my entire face, and I give him heart eyes as he grabs my waist and sways me to the music.

He's happy, and whatever's making him happy changed him from the uptight rugby player I've known him to be to this romantic.

"Wow, what was that about?" I ask, doing my best to keep my voice above the music.

His brows curl in confusion while he moves our bodies to the music.

"What was what about?"

"The kiss. It's unlike you." I say jokingly, even though I mean it.

Eric's eyes go round. "Are you saying I don't give you enough kisses in this relationship, Ms. Kimberly?"

Oh boy, you definitely fail in that department for sure! Eric only kisses me occasionally. Physical touch is one of my love languages, but I don't really mind because I love Eric so much.

"Well, you do..." The lie feels heavy on my tongue. "But I am talking about us being here." I wave around. "How were you able to afford it? And this dress?"

He'd shown up at my dorm this evening with a boutique bag containing this luxury dress and shoes I'm putting on, saying something about wanting to give me a special night.

"Kimmie, are you insinuating something? Perhaps calling me poor?" The corners of his eyes crinkled.

I scratch the back of my head, fluttering my lashes up at him. Poor isn't the word I'm going for. Love bombing is.

Eric and I don't come from wealthy families. I'm from an average-income family in Texas, and his family is the same, only his is from Boston.

We're both scholarship students at DeRieux Dei University in Chicago.

"I didn't mean it...like that."

"I'm sure you did." He shakes his head with a teasing smile plastered on his lips. "Well, if you must know, I won the deal I told you about."

My face twists in confusion. "Deal? What deal?"

He never mentioned any deal to me.

"Uh...the one I told you will make us stop worrying about money forever? It's a ten million dollar deal, babe."

"O-kay, but what is it...?"

"I've started reaching out to realtors to get the best penthouse with the city's view for us. I told you, I'll get you out of that shitty dorm."

He'd never mentioned that before. But then again, this is Eric. He talks in his sleep after a bottle or two of beer. That's probably one of those things he mumbled while knocked out.

But I believe him. And I'm happy about this deal even though I don't know the details about it.

"That's great, right?"

"Of course, babe. I'm going to get you a nice car. Not that beat-up shit you drive to class every day."

"Emily is a nice car, Ric. She's been serving me since freshman year."

I'm one of those people who fancy naming their cars like it's their pet.

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Don't like seeing you in it. My teammates mock me whenever you come to my games in that shitty..." He pauses mid-sentence. "Forget about it."

My cheeks flush red with embarrassment. Why does it feel like he isn't proud that I'm his girlfriend?

"Tell me about this deal?" I change the subject. I'd rather not let doubt ruin my relationship.

"It's complex, Kimmie. You wouldn't understand. What I want you to have at the back of your mind is that we're made for life."

He hoists me up and spins me around until I dissolve into giggles.

I sway on my feet when he drops me, feeling a little dizzy. "Okay, this is good."

"I have a surprise for you, but you'd need two more shots before I hit you with it. Ready?"

My chest vibrates with joy at the mention of a surprise. Eric hardly ever surprises me. Hence, the reason I'm eager to find out what it is.

He weaves us through the crowd of sweaty dancers and those making out, heading to the bar and ordering four shots of tequila for us.

Alcohol isn't exactly my strong suit, but I expect Eric to protect me when I start acting all loud and goofy like Homer Simpson after a Duff.

The liquid burns down my throat, and I grunt. Eric grins wickedly at me before downing his shot.

He guides me through the crowd to the narrow steps that lead to the VIP section.

His body tenses the minute we reach the top of the stairs, and the burly, dark-skinned men standing there halt us.

Why is he taking us here? What surprises could be there?

"Uh, I'm Eric. I'm here to see..." Eric starts, but before he can finish, a tall, bronzed-skinned man wearing round glasses steps forward and addresses the bouncers.

"Give him a pass."

The bouncers comply, parting to make way for Eric and me. My steps grow heavier the further he drags me into the VIP. It's enclosed with sturdy glass and red curtains. Up here, the music is a dull thump, and the flashing red lights make it impossible to see anyone's face clearly.

"Why are we here, Eric?"

"Just trust me, okay?" He hisses, layers of sweat now dotting his temple. His breath picks up in rhythm.

Several armed men stand around the room, their cold eyes following us as we walk in. I tense beneath their scrutiny, my steps faltering when one of them orders in a deep voice.

"Stop."

We halt.

In the corner sits a man in a black suit, his legs crossed with effortless authority. Dark sunglasses conceal his eyes, while his fingers are steepled beneath his jaw.

He doesn't need to say a word.

Power radiates from him, heavy enough to make the hairs on my arms rise. I can feel his stare boring into me.

And suddenly, every instinct in me screams to run. I hold Eric tighter.

Someone kicks Eric to his knees from behind, a gasp erupting from his lips as he lands with a thump on the marble floor.

"You came empty again?" The dark, gruff voice echoes, coming from the man sitting on the couch.

"No, no, I didn't, I swear..."

"I clearly told you what will happen if you don't bring me my money."

I cast my wide eyes down at Eric. "Eric, what's he talking about?"

"Just shut up, Kimmie, and let me handle this." Eric snaps, cutting me off.

Tension crowds my chest until it's hard to breathe properly.

"Roughen him up," the man commands.

The glasses guy from earlier steps forward and drives his balled fist straight into Eric's face.

Time slows as I watch my boyfriend get beaten up.

"Stop! Please!" I scream, afraid of Eric being beaten to death. "What did he do?" I bark, looking at each one of them until my gaze lands on the boss. I can hardly see his features with the overhead red lights.

He signals the guy to stop punching Eric and looks intently at me through his glasses.

"How about you ask your boyfriend?" He says, lifting a glass to his lips.

"Eric, what's happening?"

Eric ignores my question and sputters rapidly to the boss. "I promised to get you something, boss, something you can have until I get...all the money."

The man doesn't flinch. Hardly moves.

What's he saying? I stare blankly at Eric as he shakes in my arms.

"And what might that be? What do you think can make up the ten million you owe me?"

Eric's trembling finger points to me. "H-her. Please just take her."

My jaw drops. I look disbelievingly at Eric, hoping that whatever is happening now is a scene in a comic book.

He possibly can't be using me to pay his debt, can he?

Kimberly.

My world tilts on its axis as Eric drones on about why the 'boss' should take me. I never saw this coming. Never imagined he could have the guts to give me away as though I were nothing more than a puppet he could hand over to another man.

My stomach churns as each word leaves his mouth, each one making the betrayal feel more real.

"Eric," I call cautiously, hoping the pain in my voice will bring him back to his senses, but bloodshot eyes blink up at me.

"It's the only way, Kimmie. They're going to kill me if I don't pay back." He hisses, ignoring the tears pouring down my face.

"What has that got to do with me?"

"Everything. Do you want me to be arrested, Kim? You've got..."

"What makes you think I'm going to take her?" The boss's voice cut through our whispered discussion.

"She's...good. Kimberly will do whatever you want." He gives me a brisk look. "Please, boss."

"Don't do this, Eric." I grind out, shaking my head vehemently. He gives me that pathetic look that clenches my heart. "I won't follow through with this plan."

I jerk to my feet tersely, prepared to run out of the place.

"It wouldn't be wise to leave, you know?" The boss's deep voice ratchets down my spine, making me pause.

When I glance over my shoulder, I see him rising to his feet. The man's height is staggering. He must be at least six feet four, maybe more. He reeks of wealth and carries a quiet charm that's almost as dangerous as it is captivating.

Then he removes his sunglasses.

His eyes are a molten shade of hazel, fixed on me with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. They travel over me, lingering on the rise and fall of my chest like a predator studying its prey. My pulse kicks harder.

"I don't appreciate it when someone walks out on me, especially during an important meeting such as this." He takes a step forward, and my heart lurches with fear.

Eric tenses, cowering on the floor as he looms over him like an overlord. "I'll take you up on your offer and keep her until..."

I bolt while they're still talking, adrenaline filling my blood as I alight the flight of stairs like my tail is on fire.

Just before I reach the end, someone catches me and throws me over their shoulder like a fireman.

I kick and thrash my legs for him to put me down. Gosh, I don't even know who's carrying me like I weigh nothing. Only the sharp leather and spicy cologne fill my senses.

"Put me down! I'm not letting you take me!" I screech, battering the muscled back rippling with every step the man takes.

My heart gallops the further we walk away from the dance floor into a narrow hallway. It's too dark to see. My mind is too fogged and aching from Eric's betrayal.

He just gave me up like I mean absolute nothing to him.

Earlier, I was basking in his kiss, unaware that it was Judas's kiss. A kiss of betrayal.

My captor sets me down as we enter another unfamiliar room, the harsh glow of fluorescent lights washing over everything.

Then my eyes land on the man as he removes his suit, running a hand through his hair, and my blood runs cold.

I know him.

Nolan Wellington.

The notorious ex-military heir to the Wellington empire. The man whose name is whispered throughout Chicago's most powerful circles.

Shit!

"I'm not going to do it!" I snap, planting my feet despite the tremor running through my legs. "I'm not some cheap commodity you can trade around!"

"I'd argue that, seeing the way your boyfriend sold you out. What a pity." He says coldly.

I wince at the sting of his words, fighting the avalanche of tears threatening to rush to the surface.

I watch my tall, magnificently handsome captor walk straight to the mahogany desk at the end of the room and pour himself a glass of amber liquid from a decanter.

"I have no part in your business whatsoever," I insist, keeping my voice high above the clog of pain in my vocals.

"Are you sure? He's never given you a gift from all that money?"

"What money?" I choke, hating the dress on me all of a sudden. Hating this evening. This stupid dress and shoes are the only reasonable gifts Eric has given me in two years.

"He's gambling money..." He pauses when he notices my ghastly pale face and blinks rapidly. "You know about his gambling habits, right?"

Eric gambles and I never knew?

When I remain quiet, he chortles. "Interesting, I mean your relationship." He gestures to me. "How long have you both been together? A day?" I don't respond, and he seems to be having a field day with my lack of answer. "I'm quite stunned you don't know the guy you've been dating well. He's an alcoholic, a gambler, and a debtor. Borrowed money from my organization to gamble, with promises to pay back once his game clicks. Turns out he failed with his two legs in the air. What a shame."

He slugs his drink. "Turns out I'm not very patient when it comes to being owed."

"It doesn't give you the right to take me." I hiss, hands clenched as anger for him and Eric courses through me.

"Exactly. It doesn't." I'm stunned that he's actually admitting it. "So I'm giving you the opportunity to leave." A sinister smirk curves his lips when I gasp.

For one fleeting second, I taste freedom on the tip of my tongue, desperate to cling to it. Then his next words shatter it.

"But if you leave and Eric ends up missing, or dead, depending on the situation, do you know who's going to take the fall?"

Cold hatred coils through my spine.

He's blackmailing me.

How could Eric be stupid enough to borrow money from the devil? How could he have been so selfish, dragging me into this mess without a second thought?

The tears escape before I can hold them back.

He steps forward until he's in my space. His heat envelopes me. That delicious scent of his filling my nostrils. My body trembles when he raises a hand to my cheek and brushes the tear away with his thumb.

First, I wasn't expecting him to wipe my tears. I wasn't expecting him to touch me at all. And now that he has, chills skitter across my skin.

His touch is hot against my cheek, sending a strange shiver through me.

Second, I thought he'd wipe the tear onto his shirt.

Instead, he brings his thumb to his mouth and slowly licks away my tears.

I stare at him in shock.

"Tastes spectacular," he announces. "Your tears are quite the turn-on."

"You're evil."

He beams, utterly unashamed.

"Much more than you can imagine, little rabbit." His alcohol-scented breath wafts across my face. "I'd suggest you stop crying so we can discuss this like adults."

"You call blackmailing me an adult discussion?"

"I was merely making an offer, little rabbit. It's what I'm good at. And seeing how wobbly and scared you are, you wouldn't want anything to happen to your boyfriend, do you?"

I might be mad at Eric, but I wouldn't want him to get hurt. He's been good to me since we started dating. I mean, unlike the other guys I've been with who were nothing but abusive.

"Ah, just like I thought." He chirps, reading the answer from my silence. "You do love him, I see."

"I don't want to discuss my love life with you. Someone as cold as you wouldn't know what love means, I guess."

Something flickers in his eyes, but it disappears before I can make sense of it.

"Right. So back to business." He walks back to his desk and brings out a document. With two lengthy strides back, he places the document in my hand. "Read it."

Cautiously, I scan the document as his expensive shoes clack over the floor on his way back to his desk.

A contract marriage with him?

The Wellington family practically owns Chicago, but their empire stretches across several states. Their airline, Wellington Air, is one of the largest in the country, connecting major cities across the United States and beyond.

I gape at him in awe. Why would he want a wife?

"A contract marriage?" My voice comes out small now.

"Yeah. For 365 days. We'll pretend to be real husband and wife before my family and anyone else out there, and after one year, I'll be merciful enough to let you go even if your douche of a boyfriend doesn't pay me."

This offer sounds too good to be true. The fact that I'll buy my freedom by pretending to be his wife for one year is crazy.

And I hate him for making this the only way I can free myself from him. The only way I can save Eric's life.

"Well? What's your choice? To walk away now and lose your precious boyfriend whose disappearance will be pinned on you or be my wife for one year?"

Wheels turn in my head as I run through the options. There aren't many.

With a dry swallow, I look down at the contract and grit out. "Fine. I'll do it." When he squeezes his brows in confusion, I clarify. "I'll be your one-year contract wife."

A dark smirk curls his lips as he jerks to his feet and hums. "That settles it then, little wife. Sign the contract."

Kimberly.

I spend the next three days in an unfamiliar villa, learning how to become the perfect CEO's bride. It feels more like a finishing school, and Martha isn't gentle about it.

She teaches me how to sit like a prim and proper wife, how to eat, smile, and walk.

It's exhausting, and I'm tempted to bail, but Nolan's final words from the day I signed the contract keep circling my head, stopping me from calling it quits.

"There's no backing out until after one year. You're mine now, Kimmie."

His dark voice as he said those words haunts me. There's a tiny veneer of threat in it, but he had covered it up with a grin that didn't reach his eyes.

I've not seen him since he brought me to this informal finishing school, and I'm grateful for it. I'd rather not see him until the contract ends.

I jerk when Martha flicks a finger at my hunched back on the dresser, ordering. "Sit properly like a Wellington bride."

I bite back the retort rimming the seam of my lips and straighten my back while the maids fuss around me, dressing me for my "catastrophic" wedding.

It never occurred to me that I'd be getting married one week before my twenty-first birthday, and to a Wellington, no less.

Huh. Life happens.

I debated telling my mother about this arrangement, but knowing she's going to spread the news to my stepsister, Clara, and my stepfather, I refrained from doing so. Clara and I never really clicked since my mother married her father.

Besides, they wouldn't believe me if I told them I'm marrying into the family that owns Chicago anyway.

Once the maids finish, they lead me toward the waiting SUV. There's still no sign of Nolan anywhere.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask the driver, curiously looking around as he speeds down the palm-lined streets.

"Your wedding venue, ma'am."

"And where is Nolan?"

"Information can't be shared, ma'am. I'm sorry."

I huff in disbelief. So I'm not privy to my husband's whereabouts? I'm already hating this marriage before it even starts. And the husband in question.

The drive to the supposed venue is silent as I gnaw the inside of my lips in equal parts anticipation and dread.

The City Hall. That's the venue.

As soon as the driver kills the engine, someone opens my door, and I was expecting it to be a valet, but to my surprise, it's Nolan.

Decked out in a black tuxedo, his brown hair falling in a soft, textured curtain over his forehead and that sunshade sitting pretty on the bridge of his nose, he steals my breath.

He removes his glasses and runs his molten hazel eyes up and down my frame while I cower, something close to appreciation filling his eyes.

"Hmm, Martha did a good job; it seems."

I snap my head up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you look close to my type."

Oh, I wasn't his type before, and he pushed me into this? How appalling and arrogant of him to say that to a woman.

"And you think you're close to mine, Mister?"

He chortles. "Oh, clearly, I'm not. Judging by your boyfriend's behavior and appearance. Oops, I mean, ex-boyfriend."

He's getting on my nerves, and I hate him for it. He tries to reach for my hand, but I duck, slipping out of his reach.

"No touching, Mister, and yes, you aren't close to being the kind of man I want, you arrogant blackmailer."

"No offense taken, little rabbit. Shall we head to our business of the day?"

I'm already walking ahead of him, ignoring his security gawking at me. Trust me, I have no idea where I'm heading, but I'd rather walk than ask him for directions.

His shoes thump on the floor as he hurries toward me. "It'll do you good if you allow me to be the man and take the lead. You're practically walking in the wrong direction..."

"I'd rather not be led by you, Mister."

"Hmm. You'd rather be carried then, I guess?"

"No, none..." I prattle, prepared to counter his conclusions and douse the blush creeping up my cheeks, but Nolan suddenly invades my space and lifts me bridal-style.

The unexpected movement steals the breath from my lungs.

I gasp, mortified, and bat at the arm supporting my legs. "What are you doing? Put me down!" I shriek.

I can only pray the walls will swallow me whole. His little stunt has already drawn the attention of everyone passing through the hallway, and their curious stares burn hotter than the blush on my cheeks.

"Trust me, I don't have all day to fight with you."

"Good news, then put me down." I bark, avoiding eye contact with those in the hallway.

"I decline. In fact, I think you should get used to it, considering you'll be my wife in a matter of minutes."

"Wife on paper. Don't get it twisted, Mister."

"Wife is wife, little rabbit. Let it sink in."

I hold my breath when he carries me into the office where we'll get the ceremony done. The officiant jerks to his feet as we enter, a smile leaking through his lips.

"Mr. Wellington, you're finally here." He greets.

I smack Nolan's arm when he drops me to my feet, hissing. He just messed up my hair. I brush the hiked strands irritably and face the officiant.

"Sorry, Basil, my bride here is a bit obstinate and needed a special kind of handling."

The man's laugh is shaky. "It's okay."

Something tells me he knows I'm being forced into this, but I guess he's not much of a gentleman to speak up for me.

Would he go against a Wellington though? I wonder, glaring at him as he brings up the wedding certificate and sets it on the desk before commencing with the ceremony.

Nolan fishes out a red velvet box from his tuxedo pocket and flips it open. He snatches my hand and forces the wedding band down, reciting the vow alongside the officiant.

"Do you, Ms. Kimberly Whitmore, take Mr. Wellington as your husband?"

No, I don't, I want to scream, but the threat lingering in Nolan's gaze seals my lips shut.

I can't believe I'm marrying this dangerous man to save myself and Eric. I've never done something this crazy before.

His fingers dig into my skin, and the sting brings my mind back to the present. With a wince, I hum a yes.

Nolan gives me a cruel smile, and holding my hand, he forces the band down on his finger.

A shuddering breath vibrates my chest at the bands tying us together.

"Well, it's all done. Mr. Wellington, you may now kiss your bride."

A kiss.

Yeah, I always get excited when it comes to kisses, and the thought of Nolan's lips meeting mine sends butterflies flapping wildly in my belly. He has very pink, very perfect lips, and I can't help wondering what they'll taste like.

I can't believe I'm actually looking forward to kissing him.

Stop imagining things, Kimberly. This man is the devil. Don't forget that. He forced you into marrying him, so don't even think he's worth a graze of your precious lips.

The reminder tastes bitter on my tongue, but instead of ducking away, I crane my neck higher, rising onto my tiptoes for the kiss as Nolan leans closer.

God, he's going to kiss me...

Time seems to slow. My eyes squeeze shut when we're a hairsbreadth apart, ready to enjoy our first kiss.

But instead of his mouth finding mine, I feel his lips brush against my ear.

A shiver races down my spine at the hot press of his velvet lips against my skin.

Then his words echo in my ear.

"I don't kiss, little wife. I devour. I eat. Well, too bad; that wasn't part of our contract."

I suck in his spicy scent, my hands trembling against his chest.

He devours. He eats...

His words burn through my soul, and I suddenly wish...

No, no wish.

"Good. Time to sign the certificate." The officiant's voice calls my wandering mind back, and I look down as Nolan signs the certificate.

When it's my turn, my hand shakes, but I do it. I sign the certificate.

Now, I'm officially a Wellington. Nolan Wellington's wife.

"Now what?" I ask him as I drop the pen.

"Now, you act like my wife."

Unlike how we came in, we both walk out of the office with Nolan speeding like he's on a mission.

He stops in the middle of the hallway, before a woman, probably in her late twenties, dressed in a black blazer. Her long black hair is packed in a sleek, neat ponytail. She's beautiful, and the way she beams at Nolan makes me curious to know who she is.

"Seraphina," Nolan calls, kissing both her cheeks. "Wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Couldn't miss your big day, could I?" Her eyes fall on me when I come up beside Nolan. "Oh, the bride."

"She's Kimberly. Kimberly, meet Seraphina, my attorney."

We shake hands, staring each other down. "I hope you're prepared for the war ahead?"

Startled, I look at Nolan. "War? What war?"

No one responds. Nolan brushes the question off and orders Seraphina. "I'd like you to get her prepared for tonight, will ya? There's somewhere I need to be now, hm?"

"Sure. I'll handle it."

With one last look at me, Nolan walks away, whereas Seraphina gives me a crooked smile that curdles my spine.

Exactly what war was she talking about? I walk on eggshells, terror swirling through me, as Seraphina leads me away from the city hall to where I'll be armed for the unknown war.