Winning My Billionaire's Contract Husband Heart

Mia:

"What is this?" said a baritone deep voice from behind, grabbing my attention. I turned to notice a stranger standing there.

"It's a painting," I responded, deciding to press on with my painting as I stared at his imposing, muscular form and beautiful emerald eyes. Mr. Knighton had entrusted me with this painting."

I don't even know why I'm explaining myself to this strange man.

Is this what you call a painting? Splattering paint on a board and calling it art? I heard him say back to me.

W-what!, what did you just say, I stammered, dumbfounded by that rude response. He didn't even wait for me to finish talking before he walked out on me.

Flashback 48 hrs ago:

I stood there, heart pounding like a drum, staring at the fancy entrance of this mansion that looked like it belonged in a fairytale. Who would've thought Mia Turner, a struggling artist, would end up here? I fidgeted with my bag strap, clutching onto my paintings like they were life rats in an ocean of elegance.

I took a deep breath, well, several deep breaths, and finally stepped onto that marble pathway. I made an effort to behave as though I did this every day even though my sneakers looked out of place on the reflective surface. I was split internally between a sense of joy and anxiety, "What on earth am I doing here?"

The inside hall resembled something from a dream. Art hung on the walls like stars in a night sky, and people floated around in fancy dresses, all elegance and grace. And then there was me, awkwardly standing there with my not-so-fancy dress and a weird feeling like I had just walked into the wrong party.

My heart did a little leap when I spotted my paintings in the corner. They looked good. Even though I was aware of their quality, it was nevertheless strange to see them in this posh location. I couldn't help but crack a silly grin.

"Mia Turner, isn't it?" a voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned to find this older gentleman with a warm smile coming my way.

Suddenly he extended his hand like a prince, and I shook it, hoping not to seem like a wet sponge.

"Yeap, that's me," I replied, probably slightly too happily for the occasion.

"Lawrence Knighton," he said like I should know that name. "I'm thrilled to finally meet the brilliant artist behind these stunning pieces."

"Thank you," I whispered, somewhat uneasy. "I mean, thank you very much." "I'm simply... I'm delighted to be here, this is a nice Charity Art event you've thrown."

Lawrence chuckled like I had just cracked some inside joke. No need to be nervous, "Isabella." Your work is truly captivating. Your paintings communicate volumes to the viewer, "as art tends to do."

Okay, now, "I'm blushing" - sorry, I appreciate that. I mean, really, thanks. "It's just... wow."

You know what, I would love for you to come to do a painting for me at my house, let's say in two days if that's okay with you?

"I nearly choked at the thought" W-what? "Yeah, yes, sure I will be available. Jumping at the thought that the Almighty Lawrence Knighton is inviting me to his house to paint for him.

He handed me his card and left, "So that's a deal, right?"

Walking towards his guests.

"As I snapped back to the present, the memories of how I am here settled in my mind like dust after a whirlwind. I noticed Mr. Knighton approaching, making sure to check on the painting's progress. As he neared, he caught sight of me and his eyes lit up with recognition."

"Mia, how's the painting coming along?" Mr. Knighton asked with genuine interest.

I tried to keep my cool by smiling. "Thank you. It's going well." Working on it is fun for me.

Then, turning quietly, he faced the rude young man I saw earlier, who was standing just behind him, his eyes dancing with expectations. He pointed to the beautiful piece of art in front of them and said –

"Lorenzo, I want you to meet the extremely gifted artist I was telling you about, Mia Turner, Mia meet my son."

I had no idea how Lorenzo would respond, based on our last interaction. He mumbled, "Hmm, another artist claiming to be talented, I presume?" while casting a contemptuous glare my way.

I felt more upset due to his arrogant words. He didn't seem to be interested in me, my life, or my job. Despite his father's attempt at a warm introduction, Lorenzo seemed determined to maintain his rude demeanor.

"I sighed slowly, careful not to lose my calm" as Mr. Knighton gave his son an expression of dissatisfaction. I chose to let it go nonetheless since I knew that some people would be difficult to satisfy.

I had a goal in mind before I came, and I wasn't going to let one sour apple spoil my chance.

"People can think whatever they want," I shrugged, saying to him, "I'm just glad I got to show off my artwork here, in my opinion."

Isabella's skills are, in fact, brilliant. I am certain that her work will be acknowledged globally. Mr. Knighton said, reprimanding his son in the process.

As Mr. Knighton's words hung in the air, Lorenzo seemed taken aback by his father's unwavering support. His skepticism wavered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of curiosity. Could it be that my determination was starting to chip away at his stubborn façade?

Lorenzo's emerald eyes bore into mine, his gaze intense and searching. "Show me," he finally uttered, his voice tinged with a hint of genuine interest, surprising both his father and me.

He picked up the canvas slowly and slammed it on the floor.

I was dumbfounded as I watched him disappear into the crowd, his emerald, dark and mysterious eyes still etched in my memory, I couldn't help but wonder who this silly man is

Little did I know that a life of hell had only just begun for me...

As I entered my father's mansion, I could still hear the sound of giggles in my ears because I had just had a fun evening with my friends. The lively conversation and the clinking of glasses seemed like a distant memory at this point. I wanted some time alone to collect my thoughts before the weight of responsibilities settles back in.

My gaze immediately landed on the vibrant splash of colors that seemed to move over the painting as I entered the room. Every brushstroke the woman in front of me made was a symphony of skill and emotion. She was utterly engrossed in her craft and creation.

"What's this?" My tone was terse and irritated as I spoke. I apologize if I came out as harsh, but the night's partying had left me exhausted, and my father's fixation with paintings had always made me frustrated.

She said, her voice firm and resolute, "It's a painting." She looked at me with firm eyes ignoring my trespass. "Mr. Knighton gave this painting to me."

I took a moment to observe her, tracing the lines on her face and the way her brow arched in concentration. Her defiance intrigued me, and for a brief second, I found myself captivated by the fire in her eyes.

"Do you call this a painting? paint on a piece of wood and call it art?" Annoyed at my father for always being involved in painting, before turning to leave and rejecting her and her work with a careless wave, I didn't even wait for her to answer.

But her stumbling reply had me frozen in place. "W-what! What just happened? Her disbelief was clear in her trembling voice.

A look of surprise and displeasure flashed across my face as I turned to face her once more. I questioned, "Is this considered art?"

The silence that followed hung in the air like a heavy cloud. Her confused and indignant expression swirled in her eyes as she examined mine. Despite my haughtiness, she didn't back down or flinch. Someone standing their ground against me was a strange feeling, but I left.

My father's voice stopped me in my tracks as I was about to enter my room. I want you to meet Mia Turner, Alexander. She is a remarkably gifted artist.

"Dad, is it the lady down there? I already saw the trash she's doing, I shouted at him." Aren't you tired of doing this??? Is once not enough? thinking about my mother and younger brother.

You will meet her and that's final - I heard him say.

*********

My eyes shifted from my father to her. I could feel my father's excitement, all I could see was the canvas in front of her-the same canvas that had taken away my mother and younger brother.

I was overcome with a tornado of feelings, including rage, contempt, and tiredness. No matter how talented she was, I didn't care. The painting and the memories it represented were all that mattered to me.

I didn't stop to think before I walked forward and grabbed it to slam it on the floor which caused the canvas to break. The destruction was intentional and a reflection of the inward turmoil I was experiencing.

The room fell into stunned silence as the reality of my action sunk in. The sound of my father's voice was faint and his speech was hazy. The astonishment and hurt in Isabella's eyes were piercing me like a knife, and I was fixated on her.

I experienced a stab of sorrow at that very moment, but I didn't seem to care, this has to stop! I said, and I stormed out of the house.

Mia:

"Hey, Mia," Emily's voice said as she entered the room, her presence a pleasant distraction. She was my rock, my confidante, and the person who always knew how to cheer me up.

I gave her a small smile as I looked at her tired after leaving Mr Knight's house today in anger and thinking about my mother's house I'm about to lose if I don't do something about it by paying the mortgage debt. The fact that I lost my parent last year, has made life rough for me. Art is the only thing keeping me alive.

"Hey, Em. "What brought you here?"

Her grin was naughty, and her eyes twinkled with excitement. "I came to drag you out." Let's leave this painting at home for the evening and go to the bar. My friend, it's time to let loose."

I sighed, the prospect of leaving my work was both appealing and unsettling. "I'm not sure, Em. I have so much work to do, and the gallery deadline is quickly coming..."

She cut me off with a disapproving hand gesture. "Mia, come on. You've been stuck here for hours. A short break won't hurt. Besides, you deserve to have a good time."

My lips twitched with a hesitant smile. Emily had a way of persuading me even when I was at my most obstinate. "Fine, let's go."

In stark contrast to the quiet of my studio, the bar was a whirlwind of colors and laughing. The pulsing music and clinking glasses engulfed us as we sat on barstools, the weight of the day beginning to lift.

"Do you see? "Exactly what you needed," Emily remarked, her joy palpable.

I laughed and raised my glass in a fake toast. "To letting go and forget our problems, if only for a night."

As the evening progressed, I became engrossed in the crowd's excitement. The music seemed to pour into my veins, and I laughed uncontrollably. It was a pleasant break from the never-ending stream of concerns that had been devouring me.

Then he emerged - Lorenzo Knighton, the man who had completely ruined my day. He strolled into the bar with two men, looking hot and muscular like him, a shroud of confidence and arrogance surrounding him. My heart skipped a beat, and it wasn't a good one.

Emily shrugged in answer as I exchanged a bewildered look being that I told her about my ordeal with him and even showed her his picture on social media. "Well, looks like the universe wants to give you a second chance at a first impression," she remarked.

Alexander's glance moved across the bar, and for a brief moment, our gazes locked. My gut constricted, a wave of dread and frustration washed over me. He came closer, casting a shadow over our merry evening.

"Well, if it isn't the artist from earlier," he scoffed, his tone arrogant.

I shrugged my eyes at his outrageous behavior, unimpressed. "Oh, there you are again. "Did you come to criticize my drink this time?"

He chuckled, a mocking note in his voice. "Not this time, though I'm sure I could provide some valuable insights."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "I'll pass, thanks."

He took a bar stool and sat beside me, I wonder why though.

His emerald eyes pierced into mine, posing a challenge. "Let me make this clear, Miss Turner. Stay away from my father's house. I have no interest in your artistic endeavors cluttering our lives."

My annoyance was at its peak, so I raised an eyebrow. "In case you conveniently forgot, your father invited me. And I hardly think a few paintings would be considered clutter."

His lips formed a sarcastic sneer. "Take this as a warning. Don't cross the line."

My voice was tinged with defiance as I pushed in closer. "And then what?" "Are you going to break more of my canvases?"

His eyes shifted, a momentary suggestion of something I couldn't place. "Let's just say you won't like the consequences."

Our tension was apparent, a clash of wills and egos. I wasn't going to back down this time.

"Oh, I'm not one to be threatened," I answered, my voice surprisingly calm despite my anxiety.

A part of me couldn't help but feel an odd mix of frustration and intrigue as he turned to leave. Who was this man, and why did he appear so determined to sabotage my life?

Lorenzo:

"Dad, what exactly do you mean?" Disbelief and wrath raced within me as I looked at my father, the words lingering heavy in the air.

My father's expression remained stern, his gaze unwavering. "I've made up my mind, Lorenzo."

My fists clenched at my sides, a surge of frustration coursing through me. "Are you threatening me now? What's with you and this... this stranger?" My voice trembled with a mixture of anger and incredulity.

His gaze softened slightly, his tone more measured. "It's not a threat, Lorenzo. It's a choice. Marry Mia Turner, and secure the company's future you'll one day inherit."

How am I securing the future of the company by marrying a pauper? This is totally illogical, Dad!

I immediately left his office as my mind was spinning. I hardly knew her, so how could he expect me to marry her? He wanted to have control over my personal life as well after I had spent years establishing my career and displaying my worth to him.

"Victoria, where are you?" - I grabbed my phone and called Victoria as I walked out of the building. Even though our relationship wasn't conventional, she was the only person who always understood me. We got together every evening to seek solace in each other's unrestricted companionship.

Lorenzo? What's the issue? She said with worry in her voice. "I'm at the office. Are you okay?"

I'm not, I swear. I said, clearly frustrated, "I need to see you.

I'll be there in a few, she said in a consoling tone. "hang in there."

I showed up at our usual hotel where we regularly met. Victoria was already there, looking at me with her gaze as her dark hair fell over her shoulders. She drew me into a close embrace and kissed me, what I so sorely needed.

Her kiss was intense and fierce, like someone cracking for me. My tongue was able to enter through a small opening in them as we struggled to undress one another. I could taste mint in her breath, which she knows I love.

The scent of her perfume, the gentle, peachy scent of her conditioner, was overwhelming, this is what I like about just having sex with Victoria.

I want you Zen - "She said."

"What happened, Lorenzo?" as she traced circles with her fingers on my back after we've done what brings us together, "sex", and chats when necessary.

I barely talk to her though, because her family business is a competition to ours, but the childhood fling we had with each other while growing up as family friends haven't left us.

"My father desires that I marry a pauper stranger" Do you believe it? He's threatening to remove me as Director if I don't comply."

Victoria's brow furrowed, and there was a flicker of something I couldn't quite make out in her gaze. "You're marrying for business, huh?"

"Yeah, I grumbled, my rage bubbling beneath the surface. "I'm at a loss for words, Victoria. I've worked my entire life to prove myself, and now he's attempting to control my personal life as well."

Victoria's lips tightened into a sardonic grin. "You realize that Lorenzo, oftentimes the easiest approach to handle overbearing requests is to turn the tables."

Her suggestion aroused my interest, so I raised an eyebrow. "What exactly do you mean?"

Her voice was low and conspiratorial as she drew in closer. "Didn't you say she is a pauper?" What if you make a counter-proposal?"

Victoria's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Propose to me instead."

In amazement, my eyes widened. "Victoria, what exactly are you talking about?"

Her fingers trailed down my arm as she smirked. "Consider it. It would send a tsunami to the company if you married me because none of both of our companies would expect it. And also your father should be excited, thinking you're wise and you're coming up with a merger that can benefit the company.

My mind raced as I stared at her. It was a risk, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Marrying Victoria would not only put an end to my father's schemes, but it would also shield our families from further suffering.

"That's... not such a bad idea," I acknowledged, a smile tugging at my lips.

Victoria proudly smiled. "see?" it's a good idea.

*************

Dad, I can't marry her, "I really can't." I hate her gut, what the fuck is really happening?? What's your interest in her seriously, I find myself shouting at my father again about this Mia girl after telling him about marrying Victoria instead but he said No.

You'll get to understand that she's important to this company Lorenzo. The future of our company lies in this marriage, he yelled back.

I could not help but just accept his offer, I have my other businesses that are not attached to Knightons Enterprise, but this is our family's business which it's just my dad and I since my mum and brother died.

But I won't allow my dad to go to her first, I have to state my terms and conditions to marrying her.

Brandon, please help me check this lady's background or anything you have on her, I called the secret investigator that does my dirty job for me. - What do you think? That I'm a saint? No! My line of work won't make me one.

I couldn't help but think about her, "Mia" who she is, and why she's so important to our family's business. A pauper?

Brandon didn't take time at all, because my phone buzzed as I was still in my thoughts.

She is a struggling painter and orphan, she lives with her friend named Emily and presently she has been applying for several loans to buy her mother's house back that was forcibly taken from her by her mother's half-sister.

As I read the text Brandon sent, I can't help but imagine how poor and desperate she is to have money to pay her half-aunt.

How is this girl related to my dad, the thoughts came back

I couldn't let go of my hunch, " Brandon do more investigation on her, I need more" I texted him back. In the meantime, let's get married.