Page 102 of The Billionaire's Redemption

“There’s nothing against employee relationships in the company policies,” I point out.

She shoots me a scathing look. “You’re not an employee, Ethan. You’re the boss. I’m basically sleeping with the boss.”

I smirk. “So, at least we’ve clarified that. We will be sleeping together.”

“You’re so lucky you’re driving.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Or I’d show you exactly where you could sleep.”

I glance at her. She’s taking everything surprisingly well. I had been so sure she would resist my offer, fight me on it. I thought it would take me days to talk her into accepting my deal.

A fake relationship?

Is that what this is?

A secret relationship?

Or a contractual one?

I don’t know. The terms of the contract were simple, but I made a few amendments as well. She would stay in my apartment. We would share a bed, but that was it. Nothing sexual was mentioned in the contract. I know because she poured over it three times to check. A little insulting, in my opinion, but at least she signed it.

As we get closer to her apartment, Natalie begins fidgeting with her hands.

“It’s going to be fine. I don’t think Lucas is going to jump out at you from behind a car.”

She stares ahead, and I notice her fingers digging into her jeans, a sure sign of tension. As the car slows down at a traffic stop, she murmurs, “You don’t know what he was like. He always put up this front that I was his beloved little sister. Having a younger sister made him seem approachable. When his friends would come around, he would always have me bring up snacks and drinks. He would act like we were close. But he could barely stand me. And that night, I was just—I really needed someone. I knew my mother wouldn’t understand, but Lucas? I thought Lucas would understand.”

My fingers flex around the steering wheel, my grip tightening. “We used to be close, Natalie. I didn’t know he had that sideto him. I trusted him. If I had known for even a moment that because of me, he could do something so terrible to you?—”

She shakes her head. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I should never have called him.”

A heavy silence follows her words and then she continues, her voice low. “When he was hitting me, at some point, I just stopped feeling anything. All I could taste was the blood in my mouth. I sometimes have nightmares. I saw a therapist for a while, a trauma counselor. I was beginning to suppress the memory, and she helped me do so. She said it wasn’t a healthy way of coping, but I couldn’t function in my daily routine. But it still comes back to me in nightmares.”

I remove one hand from the steering wheel and put it on her thigh. She looks at me, and I give her a sharp smile. “He won’t touch you. You’re no longer that young girl who was dependent on him or your mother. He doesn’t know who you are now. And if he thinks he can get to you, I’m standing in his way. Nothing will happen to you.”

She doesn’t say anything, but I catch her touching her flat stomach, her lips pursed.

I keep my gaze ahead. There’s a chance she said yes to staying with me and to this contract because she’s worried about Lucas doing something to her and, as a result, to our child.

I don’t think he’ll be stupid enough to try. Not when he has far too much to lose this time around.

And I don’t care about Natalie’s reasoning. It’s going to be a slow, steady climb to win her over, but I am a patient man, and a year is a long time.

As I pull up in front of Natalie's building in the heart of the city, the cool September evening settling over the streets, I begin to strategize. Lucas may have strongarmed her into dropping the charges but that was before I was in the picture.

By the time I’m done with Lucas Thorne, sitting in jail will be the least of his worries.

CHAPTER 17

NATALIE

“Are you sure about this?”

Sarah’s voice is worried, and I hear the clanging of dishes from behind her.

“It’s for the best, Sarah. You saw my mother’s reaction. And that was to a photograph. Knowing how vindictive she is, she’s going to tell Lucas. And I don’t know him enough to be sure of how he’ll react. I want to say that he won’t give a shit, but?—”

“—but he’s got crazy in his blood,” Sarah finishes grimly. “Look, do you want me to come by and help you pack up? I’ll take the day off.”

“No, you don’t have to?—”