Chapter 6 THE CONTRACT
Eli’s POV
The sheets smelled like cedar and something sharper. Not hospital detergent; richer than that. Expensive. My pulse kicked hard when I realized this wasn’t my bed. Or my apartment.
The ceiling above me was too high, painted in the kind of white that felt sterile. A hum echoed softly through the room; an air vents, probably. Outside the tinted windows, the city spread like a sheet of dying stars, rain streaking the glass.
I sat up too quickly. My head throbbed, the world tilting for a second before it steadied. My clothes were gone, replaced by a black T-shirt and sweats that didn’t belong to me. Panic spiked up my throat.
Had he…?
I swallowed hard, fingers trembling as I touched my chest, my arms, my skin. Everything felt the same. No pain, no bruises, no unfamiliar ache. Still, the thought wouldn’t leave… What if Julian had done something while I was out?
I didn’t remember falling asleep. Hell, I didn’t even remember sitting down. The last thing I could recall was the guards dragging me through a hallway lined with gold trim and glass, Julian’s voice echoing somewhere behind me, cold as the rain.
I shoved the blankets off, my bare feet hitting the marble floor. The cold went straight through me. The room was huge, almost empty; a minimalist’s dream. Everything sleek, gray, spotless. One wall was all glass, the skyline shimmering beyond it like a trap.
A low sound broke the silence, the soft hiss of a door opening.
“Good morning, Mr. Winslow.”
Julian’s voice slid through the air like a blade through silk. I turned sharply. He was standing by the door, already dressed in black slacks and a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow. Not a single hair was out of place.
I froze, unable to look away.
He held a cup of coffee in one hand, steam curling around his fingers. “You’re awake earlier than I expected.”
I swallowed. “Did you drug me last night?”
His brows lifted a little, not offended; kind of amused. “You think I need to?”
My pulse quickened. “I didn’t exactly walk here on my own.”
“You fainted,” he said simply, walking closer. “Stress, exhaustion, dehydration. My men carried you up. You should thank them.”
I laughed under my breath; short, brittle. “Yeah, I’ll send them a fruit basket.”
Julian stopped a few feet from me, head tilting slightly. “You’re trembling.”
“I’m standing in a stranger’s house. Forgive me for not feeling relaxed.”
He hummed softly, setting the coffee down on the nightstand. His movements were slow, deliberate, meant to unnerve. “You’re not in a stranger’s house, Eli. You’re in your new home.”
The words hit me like ice water. “Excuse me?”
He smiled faintly. “You agreed to my proposal, remember?”
My stomach turned. “You said— I said yes because you— you were counting down like a lunatic with your goons watching!”
Julian only studied me, hands sliding into his pockets. “Consent is consent, regardless of pressure. You could’ve said no and walked out poorer, but you didn’t. You made a choice.”
“Choice?” I laughed, the sound breaking halfway. “You call that a choice?”
He didn’t answer, he just watched me attentively, as if memorizing the way my anger moved.
The silence stretched until I couldn’t take it. “How did I go to sleep last night?”
“Like most people,” he said. “Lying down.”
“Julian, I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Did you touch me?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
That made him pause. Then his mouth curved, slow and dangerous.
“Trust me,” he said, voice dropping to something darker, “if I touched you, you’d know. And you most definitely wouldn’t be able to walk around this freely.”
Heat crawled up my neck, anger and embarrassment twisting together. “You’re disgusting.”
“I’m practical.” He picked up a folder from the small glass table near the window and flipped it open. “Now, about the matter at hand.”
He crossed the room and handed me a pen. Inside the folder, dense text ran down the page; sharp legalese that looked official and ancient all at once. My eyes snagged on phrases as I skimmed:
‘Debt Absorption Clause: Debtor shall transfer all personal obligations into spousal alliance.’
‘Exclusive rights and obligations apply under Thorn Industries and its private holdings.’
‘This agreement is binding, non-retractable, and recognized under both corporate and personal law.’
My fingers tightened around the edge of the paper. “You’re insane if you think I’m signing this.”
Julian leaned against the table, arms crossed. “You owe me. And you belong to me now, whether that’s written or not. This only makes it official.”
“Belong to you?” I whispered. “Again, I’m not property.”
He smiled faintly. “Everyone is property to someone, Eli. Some people just choose their owners.”
My voice cracked. “You think this is some kind of game?”
“No,” he said, calm and cool. “Games end. This doesn’t.”
I slammed the pen down. “No.”
Julian’s gaze flicked to the clock on the wall; silent, silver hands moving in steady rhythm. “Then I’ll make a call. To your grandfather’s hospital. His treatment, if I recall, requires my sponsorship.”
The blood drained from my face. “You wouldn’t.”
“You think?” He held up his phone. “Sign it, or his treatment stops tonight. It might be important for you to note that I can blacklist anyone, even you, especially you. Signed with ink or your blood; both will work fine.”
For a moment, everything froze, even the rain outside seemed to go quiet. My breath came in shallow bursts. He stood there, patient, the phone balanced loosely in his hand, eyes sharp as ice.
I wanted to scream, to throw something, to hit him. But all I could think of was my grandfather’s frail smile, the way his hand shook when he reached for mine.
My hand moved before I realized it, grabbing the pen. The nib scratched against paper, my signature a smear of anger and defeat.
Julian took the folder back when I was done. He closed it carefully, as if it were something sacred.
The room felt smaller suddenly. The air is now heavier.
He tucked the folder under his arm and looked at me with that unreadable gaze. Then, slowly, he stepped closer until I could feel the heat of him.
His breath brushed my cheek; he smells expensive whiskey, mint, something darker.
“Now that you’re mine,” he said softly, fingers brushing the edge of my chin, “we seal it properly. I'll prepare a wedding.”
He tilted my face up. My pulse stuttered… and the world narrowed to the inch between us.