Billion Dollar Contract (Editing Current Chapters)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

I let my dog out into the backyard, and watched her for a moment before walking back into the two bedroom house I had purchased less than a year ago. Grinning quietly to myself, I made my way back toward the kitchen to prepare dinner. I hadn’t stopped thinking about Vane Hanson’s proposal, but I was still on the fence about the entire situation. This was the only way I would ever be able to start my own clothing line without risking my mentors taking my ideas as their own. Wasn’t it?

 

“Does it really matter?” I mumbled to myself, pulling a silver pot out of my cabinet and set it down in the sink, filling it up with water. My phone began ringing, startling me out of my mental debate. With a shaky hand, I reached into the pocket of my jeans and looked at the screen, rolling my eyes at the name and clicking the answer button. “Good evening, Mr. Hanson.”

 

I shut the water off as he answered, moving the pot from the sink to the stove. “Good evening, Miss Simmons. I would like for you to unlock your front door. We need to have a conversation.” Mentally cursing the billionaire, I opened the package of spaghetti noodles, snapping them in half and dumping the contents into the water.

 

“You and I have nothing to discuss. I walked away last night, and I have signed nothing. Now, if you don’t mind, I am going to get back to cooking dinner.” I clicked end and set the phone down on my counter, a little more than shaken. Only a moment later, there was a loud pounding on my door.

 

I groaned to myself and stomped into the living room, swinging the door open. “I told you, we have things to discuss.” He walked past me and into my house, leaving me to glare. Who did he think he was?

 

“I did not say you could come in.” I closed the door as I spoke, irritated with the way that he came in like he owned the place. “And we have nothing to talk about. I am not going to sign your contract.”

 

A pained look crossed his face, but I dismissed the bite of guilt I felt and walked back toward the kitchen to stir the noodles. “Sinclair, what do I have to do to get you to sign the contract? I will double the amount I am offering.”

 

“What makes you think that this is about the money, Mr. Hanson?” I asked, watching as he entered my small kitchen. He somehow made the room seem… grand. I opened my refrigerator and pulled out a package of hamburger meat, quickly followed by a few peppers and fresh herbs. “You were offering more than enough money before.”

 

He crossed his arms across his broad chest and narrowed his eyes. “I see. So what is the matter? Why would you throw away this opportunity so easily? What do I have to do, to get you to sign?”

 

“Apologize to me.” I said, dumping the meat into a skillet before quickly turning to look him in the eyes. “If I agree to this, you will have to learn to respect me. You are asking me to change my entire life, and yet you had the audacity to call me a whore at dinner last night. Does this seem fair to you?”

 

He scoffed and waved his hand. “Life isn’t fair. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?” I bristled with anger, and took a deep breath to calm myself.

 

“See? This is the disrespect I am talking about. A normal person would have taken the time to figure out that my mother was dead before assuming that she was around to teach me anything.” I turned back to the stove, and lit the fire under the skillet. “Maybe you should just leave. Lord knows that you hold your pride closer than your humility.”

 

I felt him draw closer, making me want to cringe and lean back into him at the same time. “I didn’t know that your mother died. That was something that you should have put in your application.”

 

“So you plan on getting to know me through what I put on my application? I don’t think so. It wasn’t due to medical complications, therefore, it would not affect our child.” I turned around, gasping when I saw that Vane was standing less than a foot from my body. I leaned back a bit, looking up into his eyes.

 

He blinked once. “I am sorry for treating you the way I did. I really am, but I am used to getting what I want, when I want. And you seem to be trying to take away my control. I do not like it.” I just looked at him, somewhat surprised.

 

“I can assure you that I am not trying to take away your control. I would just like to be treated like a person, like your child’s mother. I am not someone that you can push around or demean. If you can understand that, then I have no problem carrying your child.” I swallowed hard, almost withering under his cold stare. “What do you have to say to that?”

 

He raised his hand to my cheek and cupped it, never once letting his face betray his emotions. “I suppose I could try.” I nodded, feeling hot tears of embarrassment roll down my cheeks. What was the matter with me? What was it about this man that shook me to my core? “Will you sign the contract, Miss Simmons?”

 

“Yes.” I whispered, swallowing hard again and leaning into his hand. He gave me his form of a half smile and reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a packet of paper. I looked down and let out a small laugh. “Do you carry that around with you everywhere?”

 

He chuckled, sending shocks down my spine. “No, I just had a feeling that you would say yes.” He reached behind me and turned the burners on the stove off. “You can wait to eat. I want you to sign the contract and then show me to your bedroom.”

 

“Oh, alright.” I said dumbly, taking the contract from him and walking to the kitchen table, slamming it down. “I need a pen.”

He laughed again and pulled one out of his pocket. “Sign on pages three, eight, and fifteen.” I immediately signed and looked up to him. He quickly picked me up and slung me over his shoulder. “I will make sure that you don’t regret this, Miss Simmons.”