The Ruthless Billionaire CEO Revenge Contract

Her own mirror wall reflection was a striking contrast. Under the lights, her understated yet sophisticated silver gown embraced her little frame. The fabric shimmered. She had always felt like an outsider in this planet, an imposter attempting to fit somewhere she did not belong. Her heart raced, the beats resonating in her chest as she changed her clutch to project a composed look.

Every inch of her felt out of place as champagne flutes clinked about her. She tried to make herself invisible by flitting frantically from face to face, but she couldn't help but feel like the centre of attention. Her father's debts had brought her here; now, this golden prison was all she knew.

Then her eyes locked with him. Rylan Delacroix was standing in shadows next to the bar across the room. From a distance, his presence was magnetic, strong and directive. Though every inch of him exuded control, from his flawlessly fitting suit to the cool, calculated stare he swept over the room, his stance was comfortable. His black hair, slicked back precisely, caught the light to accentuate his keen features. Something about him made her skin tingle; his dark, penetrating gaze fastened onto hers like a predator sighting prey.

She stopped. Time itself seemed to have slowed, and the noise of the room vanished into nothing save her own heart hammering. He showed no smile. He had no need for. Unquestionably, the air was charged with exciting tension. His eyes revealed a tangible strength, the weight of his concentration far more than anything she had known.

She seemed to be walking towards him and the surroundings vanished with every stride. Her heels quietly tapping against the glossy floor, she had to work to maintain consistent breathing as she moved. She could not turn away from him even if her palms were clammy as she came towards. Until she was standing before him, unable to escape the intensity of his look, the distance between them appeared to narrow.

Rylan drew a step forward without saying, his dark eyes never leaving hers. Her senses were overwhelmed as their distance closed and she felt his presence invading her personal space.

With a smooth, under control edge of authority that left no room for debate, Rylan Delacroix's voice sliced through the tension like a scalpel. "Amaya Donovan," he remarked with a nearly contemptuous tone. "I know a lot about you." Her skin pricked as his lips curved into a thin, hungry smile.

Amaya kept her cool while her pulse flew. She graced a nice but stiff smile. Her speech serene but inwardly she felt everything but. "I didn't think you'd notice someone like me," she said.

His eyes swept her from head to toe, evaluating her like a piece of art, or maybe a pawn in a game he had already mastered. "You're hard to miss," he muttered. His eyes stayed fixed, and Amaya felt as though he saw right through her, the nerves, the pain, the weight of her father's obligations propelling her into this precise moment.

Amaya started to say something, but the words escaped her tongue. The room seemed too little; his presence too strong. Feeling awkward amid the sea of polished professionals, she moved her weight from one foot to the other. Standing so naturally in his position, this man made her feel as though she was merely passing through, a shadow in a world designed for people with money and power.

"I'm guessing you're not here for the champagne," Rylan said, his voice low but firm and his eyes never leaving hers. "Your father's debts bring you here. That is correct, Amaya? His comments landed with a sharpness that made her spine quiver. Though she had never told him a word, it was as if he knew precisely why she was here, exactly what she was running from.

Her pulse skipped a beat. She ought to have realised that her presence here would not go unreported. But it became all the more real hearing the hard reality emerge from his mouth.

Amaya remarked, her voice just a whisper: "You've got it wrong." "He's the reason I'm not here. I'm here since I had little option.

Rylan laughed gently, the sound dark and knowing. "Amaya, everyone of us has options. Sometimes we simply find the ones we must produce unacceptable.

Amaya battled to remain calm as she met his eyes. And what advice would you have for me right now, Mr. Delacroix? Should I request charity? The remarks were sharp, more cutting than she had meant. Every pulse of her heart squeezed her chest.

His eyes shone with something unreadable, a spark of entertainment. "I doubt you will have to plead. One way or another you will pay the cost at last.

Rylan's lips turned to a smile, one more of calculation than of compassion. She felt small because of the kind of smile that implied he knew something she did not. He moved nearer, bridging the distance between them, and Amaya felt heat rising inside her from the proximity as well as from his disturbing power.

"You, Amaya," he whispered in a low drawl. "Simple is what I want." I want you to know the circumstances you find yourself in. There is cost associated with your father's debts. And now is the moment for your payment.

Her skin warmed from his breath, and his words sank right down into her chest. Amaya felt her heart thunder in her throat. She was mute and immobile. She thought of a deer caught in the headlights of a car poised to crush her under its weight.

"Your father is not the only one who has made mistakes," Rylan said. Amaya, you would pay for them as well. Whether or whether you want to.

She tried to talk once more, but the weight of his presence sucked the words back up. He drew in closer, his lips nearly brushing her ear, his voice lowering to a whisper that chilled her spine.

"Now, I think it's time you understood just how much you'll have to pay."

His smile had disappeared to be replaced by something colder, darker. The kind of smile that seemed to be a quiet promise of suffering.

With a quiet but sharp voice and each word deliberate, "You're not as safe as you think, Amaya," he added. She stiffened automatically as the words struck her like a punch to the gut. Not sure whether it was from the cold air of his presence or the dread building in her chest, she gently retreated. Trying to ground herself, she hardly covered the quiver in her hands with fingers gripping the border of her gown.

Dark and deliberate, his eyes never left hers, as if he could see through the walls she so painstakingly created around herself. His eyes were fixed, the weight of which nearly caused her to lose almost all sense of breathing.

Rylan went on, "You don't know what I'm capable of," his lips twisting in that tight, unreadable smile. There was not friendliness, warmth, or flirtation there. Just regulation. It was abundantly evident that the authority he possessed covered every soul that dared to cross him, not only over his dominion. "Amaya, your father's debt is the starting point. Like him, you will pay the cost.

Her heart accelerated; the words hung between them like a challenge. She could never get rid of her father's obligations, but now Rylan was implying she paid some sort of contribution. Her ideas whirled around, each more desperate than the last. From her, what did he hope for? Real game was what he was playing? Her words stopped in her throat the instant she inhaled to talk.

"Does this relate to my father's legacy?" Amaya managed, her voice a whisper over the gala's clamour, scarcely what it had been before.

Rylan's eyes flicked for a moment, a flash of something, maybe contentment, maybe just an unsaid hunger. "Everything, Amaya. You'll see soon enough. He moved in closer, the distance between them closing so she could not breathe without feeling his presence smothering in on her.

The dynamic changed. Now the air seemed thicker, coil of strain in her chest stifling her. Was he just talking the truth, or was he threatening her? She had no idea.

His voice dropped to a near whisper as he moved another step towards her, "I always get what I want, Amaya. Out soon enough, you will find.

Amaya forced her way through the throng while her head whirled. She had never felt so unfit in her life. These people, this planet, all seemed so far apart from the reality she knew. Rylan seemed to be living in someone else's fantasy, the opulence, the power, the hush accompanying her presence.

A far-off section of her tried to remain calm, but brick by brick the barriers she had up to keep herself from collapsing. Rylan's threat tore at her gut, making her sick.

She couldn breathe once more just when she got to the balcony. Her hands clutching the chilly stone, she leaned against the railing as the cool night air brushed her skin. Under her, the city opened out in a sea of lights, a place so far off from her own agony.

Her eyes then fixed him once more.

Her father watched the gathering from the brink of the ballroom, his face taut with concern. Amaya watched the flutter of dread in his eyes when their gazes locked. Though he didn't approach her right away, his stare at her suggested something urgent, something she couldn't overlook.

Her heart thumped fiercely in her chest as she saw him approach her with deliberate rapid movements. Amaya looked away from the railing, unable to meet him without bearing the weight of all that had gone wrong. Her father had been a rock of strength, but she could now see he too was terrified. Fearful of the debt ruining their life and of the man she had just met.

"Amaya," her father replied, his voice low and urgent. Reaching her side, his hand rested on her shoulder to guide her farther from the throng. "You ought to go. Here tonight, it is not safe.

Amaya's stomach turned. She had never heard anything like the fear in her father's voice.

Her voice wobbly, she asked, "What's going on, Father?" "What would you mean?" Whatever is happening?

Her father's gaze flicked about tensely. "It is not only Rylan, Amaya. More is involved here than you might first think. We must leave before it is too late; you are in danger.

Her breath seized her throat. Her father's hold on her arm tightened and he drew her closer before she could utter another question. Her mind flew to piece everything together.

"Come with me now," he encouraged, his voice low yet firm. "I want you not participating in this any more. You have no idea what you are opposing here.

At last Rylan murmured, "Sit down," his voice weak and like the soft buzz of a sword being sharpened. His comments exposed merely command; friendliness or welcome was absent. The thick tension in the air caused her chest to tighten as she silently sank down onto the chair across from him.

On the desk, before her, stood one document. The work was flawless; the typography was tidy and businesslike, quite professional. As Amaya's eyes swept over the sheet, she couldn't read a word. Her own pulse, the pounding in her ears as she waited for him to speak, overwhelmed her mind.

"I have been patient, Amaya," Rylan's voice pierced into her ideas from through her fog. The dates for your father's debt are fixed, though. And I worry you will be the one liable. Not with contempt, he said it with finality, as if her fate had already been sealed.

Her gut trembled. Her voice steady, she asked, "What do you mean?"

His fingertips only gently brushed hers as he passed the paperwork across the desk instead of answering immediately away. About it, there was no accident. That hardly amounted to a loving gesture. It was computed, a faint assertion.

Rylan turned directly ahead from her face. "I've already set up for your father's debts to be passed to you," he said in a cold, quiet voice. "The deal is essentially simple. You married me; your father's obligations are forgiven. You wander free.

Amaya's heart missed a beat while her brain worked to decipher the words he had just spoken. Marry he? The ideas were ludicrous. Her breath halted in her chest as she sought to build a response. Nothing showed up. His offer carried weight like crushing shackles poised to pull her under.

Rylan looked at the paper; the words still incomprehensible to her, then back to her face. "You're not in a position to object, Amaya. Everything your family left behind depends on this; all you know. Sign it; I'll make sure you get out without damage. Refuse... The hostility was clear even though his voice stopped.

Amaya's palm hung above the pen, the shiny silver object glistening in the subdued light. She could feel the weight of the choice weighing down on her every second pulled her closer to a life she did not desire. Her brain flew. She made still another choice as well. Was a decision involved at all? She now held her father's name, his reputation in her hands.

Rylan's low voice cut through her ideas. "Sign it, Amaya," he urged with subdued demand. "Or I'll see to it your dad covers the final expenses."

Amaya grasped for the pen, her hand shaking as Rylan's words hammered on her chest. Though the narrow point hung barely above the page, every instinct in her yelled for her to stop. This was a proclamation not merely a signature. She lived in a world she was terrified to live in, never asked for.

Her brain whirled as the seconds seemed to last what felt to be eternity. She could feel Rylan's steady, unrelenting eyes on her, like a predator following his target. The room's cold was seeping through her bones.

Her thoughts went back to her father, to his worried face only a few hours before, to the countless sacrifices he had made. Could she really stand by and let him suffer for his errors alone? Signing this deal was the only way he might have been spared. Was everything they produced costing this?

Until she whispered at last, "What if I don't sign it?" The silence between them choked out terrible length. Her voice was small and hardly audible, yet it carried the weight of her revolt.

Rylan never blinked. His eyes locked hers; his expression was invisible. Still, his lips slightly jagged forward. "then I'll make sure your family name disappears. There won't be another chance either.

Her thoughts felt to her like a physical blow, and the room whirled. She loved her family, her father most of all. How might she fail him? How can her uncertainty ruin the man she had loved and revered all her life?

She grasped the pen, the chilly metal moist under her hands. Her thoughts scattered. She had never felt more alone or in her life more vulnerable. The decision felt insufferable in weight. A man bearing all the power decided her family's future as well as hers.

"think about it, Amaya," Rylan's voice was quiet once more, yet the words cut through her will like a blade. "This defines your father's future. Not let me manage affairs alone.

"Take your time, Amaya," she urged. Rylan's voice was velvet-like, yet the type of smoothness made her skin itchy. Of course, you make decisions. Still, he fixed his eyes on her, a constant reminder of the power he carried.

The weight of the contract still squarely on her chest, Amaya struggled to match his gaze. Her hands shook; the delicate print blurring was clear as she stared at the paper before her. The cost beyond her pride, more than her future, more than her will. This blanketed all she had ever known, all she had loved.

The air in the room grew denser, every breath weighing more than it had ever done. Once more slicing over the isolation, Rylan's voice was low and full of quiet menace. Should you not sign, Amaya, he said, the words intentional, "I'll ensure your father loses everything." And you, actually, will have nothing. nor any future, nor any family.

Her fingers hovered over the pen, quivering as truth hit her hard. The weight of his offer, the terrible cost of turning down, appeared to be smothering her from all directions. This was war, not a clear decision. an effort towards survival.

Rylan muttered, slinking forward slightly and glittering with something deeper: "Sign, and I'll spare him." Not, and he will forfeit everything. include you.

The pen in her palm was terrible weight. Her fingers shook, violating every attempt at control. Though this was different, she had never been one to give in under pressure. Legacy of her father was this. She had never known anything different than this. She would find herself caught by the same ties holding her father should she sign it. And without her father would lose everything.

Amaya turned her gaze upon Rylan. His jaw was hard; his eyes black and opaque. This man always knew what he wanted and got it. He wasn't wondering whether she would sign. She wasn't sure she could go through with it, though, in that moment her mind swirled with doubt and fear.

She mumbled, "You don't have to do this," her voice almost audible. "Some other has to be possible." Her remarks were fragile, like glass almost ready to crack.

Rylan responded gently instead than immediately. His dark, keen eye fixed hers as if he were scrutinising every thought. With his palms on the desk, he gently leaned forward and spoke in a measured low voice. "Amaya, another way is not possible. You sign or your father pays for his mistakes. Right now, this is your choice and your obligation.

His remarks seemed to be a knife cutting through her. Shaking down her spine, she realised the weight of the decision she was about to take. She lacked choices. Not precisely.

Amaya's fingers grabbed hard at the pen. Hot and sudden, a tear slipped down her cheek. She washed it quickly, as if attempting to cover the fragility that had betrayed her. The truth, though, was unavoidable: taking this offer would change everything. She would travel to be his.

The words almost strangling her, she murmured, "I'm sorry, Father."

He straightened, his tall shadow engulfing her as he watched her attentively, mentally calculating every response.

"Well done, Amaya," he said, his voice like silk but devoid of any feeling. "Was it not essentially a choice??"

Amaya moved aside to overlook him. The truth of his words transcends any kind of physical damage. She had reasoned she might discover another way out of this. Here she was, though, bound to a man who controlled every element of her life, including those of her family and her own future. The weight of the decision sank down on her, and for a fleeting moment she felt the whole planet sitting on her breast.

Rylan remarked, his voice gentle, "Don't look so pained." You are behaving for your father in the right way. Regarding your family. You have done what asked for. One can clearly see not too far off.

His remarks were empty, like a mantra carried on nonstop till it was meaningless. This was survival, not just about duty now. Her family's continuing existence. She had traded her last shred of dignity, her freedom, all for it. Everything has been sold off for this cold, indifferent bit of paper.

Tension permeated the space between Rylan and her as she moved towards the desk. Something about his deliberate ease, something about his stride, suggested he was far too used to live his way. He had won. It was also impossible to go back.

His eye softened just long enough for her to question his knowledge. But the flutter disappeared as quickly as it arrived, and the same frigid will became front stage.

"Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Delacroix," he said, his voice low, strong. "You have made the right decision." You will come to value it in due order.

Her chest contracted as she went back over his words in her head. Amaya, you will see soon enough. Protecting what remains of your family simply requires this. Her body shivered at the remembrance of his speech, but the underlying truth in his voice more chilled her. Indeed, he was correct. There remained just one choice.

She couldn't rid her heart of the sense of betrayal, though, as the weight of the choice sank down on her. She had given her future, her independence, away. On the altar of family obligation, she had offered herself. But what about her life personally? Her own delight? That was of less importance now.

At her sides, Amaya's fingers curled into fists as her reflection seemed to ridicule her, accusing her of forsaking all she had ever believed in. She considered what had she done? It was not intended to be like this. She was meant not to be here, negotiating with a man like Rylan beneath his shadow.

Unseen, a tear ran down her cheek as she battled to swallow the lump in her throat. Not now could one go back. She made a definitive decision. No rescue, no hero in shining armorwould result. No matter how deeply her decision split her within, she had to pay for it.

She murmured loudly, "What have I done?" her voice breaking as though the words themselves had cracked something deep inside her. One last time in the mirror, she gazed at herself looking for any evidence of the person she used to be before Rylan. Before the obligation. Before to our marriage.

Though meant to make her look like a princess, the garment felt like a straightjacket. It was stunning. Running her fingers along the cloth, Amaya felt the smoothness of the fabric under her touch, but all she could think about was the jail it stood for.

Her father's words kept coming back to her, pushing her to go forward and save the family. But deep within, a tempest of bitterness and hopelessness raged. She had been thrown into a world she knew nothing about, one in which a man unconcerned about her controlled her body, soul, even basic life. She was merely a pawn in his game; he desired her for personal motives.

Her ideas were broken off by the gentle click of the door opening. Her father came into the room with a mixed-feeling pride and sorrow. Though it didn't reach his eyes, he flashed her a little smile. Though his gesture was gentle and caring, his hands shook slightly as he changed her veil. His posture clearly revealed tension.

Quietly, he whispered, "Amaya," his voice strained. "I understand you wanted something else. But you have done the correct thing. I shall always be thanksful for this. Guilt permeated his words, the implicit weight of the choice she had taken bearing on both of them.

As Amaya nodded her throat closed. She stammered. She wondered what she would say. Nothing could alter the current reality of events. Turning back was not an option.

The ceremony itself was a haze of hollow motions and practiced grins. Amaya was caught even as they stood before the officiant. Rylan stood next her, his tall body emanating strength and dominance, his hand tightly clutching hers as if to tell her she belonged to him now. Their comments seemed to her like chains tightening with every second.

But Amaya felt it, the weight of Rylan's dominance, his claim on her, when his palm clenched around hers during the vows. His touch revealed no warmth or love. It was just a deal. A commercial agreement. She also understood that this was what she had become, nothing more than a tool in his hands, as she sensed the chill of his hold.

The vows arrived; his voice was detached and suave, her own weak and shaking. She refused to look at him. She had chosen, but it did not follow that she had to live with it. Not now.

Amaya's stomach turned over when the officiant called them husband and wife, but there was no time for sentiment. Once more, Rylan's hold on her hand tightened, dragging her toward their future and the exit.

Her head ran back over the ceremony, her own vows, the icy touch of Rylan. She struggled to think clearly and to breathe. This was her punishment, not only a wedding. And there was no way off.

She looked at Rylan across the room. Although their relationship was instantaneous and electric, it was everything from loving. His eyes were as frigid as they had always been, and his look felt as weighty as a tangible force keeping her in place. He seemed to be quietly reminding her of her place in this world, his universe.

She forced herself to look away by hard swallowing. She was not at home here. She belonged neither to him nor to another. Deep down, though, she knew she was connected to him whether or not she liked it. The weight of the reality squeezed from her lungs deeper into her chest.

She had anticipated a moment of sensitivity; some little gesture to show that this was more than just business. But Rylan's coldness was like an impervious wall. It was overwhelming. He quieted himself. He didn't need to. Sharp and deliberate, his eyes told her he considered her as a possession rather than a partner. One item must be claimed for use.

Rylan went toward her with a deliberate steady grace. Amaya felt the weight of his presence occupy the space for a minute as his stature soared over hers. She could sense his eyes fixed on her, absorbing every inch of her body as though she were only objects of his examination. Her pulse accelerated, bewilderment and terror knotted in her stomach.

He went for her without saying, his hands like iron cupping her face. She shrived, but it was too late. His lips seized hers, demanding, taking. There was just his severity; no gentleness or warmth. His kiss was more of a directive than a caress. Amaya stood still, attempting to keep her ideas clear and drown out the intense sense of loss slinking into her chest.

Rylan interrupted the kiss, his eyes never turning away hers. With a low, dangerous voice, he said, "You'll learn to accept your place, Amaya."

The words rang in her head. She had not asked for this, had not wanted to be a pawn in his game, yet here she was, connected to him by a bond she could not break. Her heart beating in her throat, her body burned with an unwelcome heat as he undressed her with a glance that made her feel even smaller, more meaningless.

She wanted to withdraw. She wanted to flee far away from the man who had taken everything from her and yell. All she could do, though, was lie there, paralyzed, while he passed over demanding what was never his to take.

She lay quiet, her chest rising and falling in tiny gasps when it was over. Comparatively to when she first entered the room, the bed felt frigid. Though Rylan's body weighed more than hers, his presence in the room was the heaviest object in there.

Amaya battled tears burning her eyes by staring at the ceiling. She was unable to weep. not now. But the emptiness she experienced, a chasm she was unable to climb, ate her and dragged her farther into hopelessness.

Her mind kept repeating the weight of his words, relentless and unrelenting: You will come to accept your station.

She turned to face him and stayed fixated on his looks. In slumber he seemed calm, almost serene. The harshness of the guy who had just seized her replaced a picture of someone who seemed, dare she say it, human as the rough lines of his face melted in the low light.

She started speaking, but the words vanished on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to say so much, ask so much, but she knew that no response would help to dull the scorching anguish in her chest. He had exhibited no indication of sorrow or of feeling. She was only to him an item. a weapon for his exacting retribution.

Then, suddenly, he moved. His eyes opened then locked with hers in the darkness. His eyes revealed no hostility, no rage; instead, they showed a serene, deliberate intensity that seemed to stare right ahead.

Rylan moved, stretching himself straight with a comfort that unsettled her. "You're not asleep," he murmured, his voice raspy as though the night had taken something from him too.

Not sure how to answer, Amaya said nothing. She want to yell at him. She wanted to rant. But something in his eyes, something she couldn't exactly locate stopped her.

Rather, she turned onto her side, facing away from him, her rear to the man who had claimed her in the most aggressive manner.

They hardly spoke for a very long period. Though Amaya could sense the change in the air, something delicate and perilous, the quiet between them was weighty. The coldness persisted, but for the first time since they had met she noticed something flutter in his eyes. Almost human.

He started the stillness. "My father......" His voice faded, but there was a faint tremble in it that was not missed.

She paid no reply. She cannot. She waited, though, her breath shallow, uncertain about whether she should prod him for responses or let the moment pass.

Rylan replied gently, his voice nearly too soft for her to hear: "I never wanted this life." "But occasionally... there is no decision to make. Not for folks just like myself.

As his words sank over Amaya, a shudder crept through her. His armor cracked, and there was a glimpse of something vulnerable. She was not able to believe it though. Not following all.

Rylan's phone chimed loudly on the nightstand just as she opened her mouth to say something, anything. That moment broke.