Billionaire's Betrayal a contracted revenge (Aurelia) novel Chapter 2

Chp 2: The Devil’s bargain.

Aurelia’s POV

The words left my mouth before my brain could catch up.

Hebvron didn’t smile. He didn’t gloat. He just snapped his fingers. The massive bodyguard, Arnell, produced a contract from inside his jacket and a pen.

“Sign,” Hebvron ordered. “Page four. Bottom line.”

I scanned through and signed. My hand shook, scratching my name across the paper that effectively sold my life for the next twelve months. Aurelia Valerius. The name I was supposed to lose in a divorce was now being shackled to me in a different, darker way.

“Good,” Hebvron said, snatching the paper back. “Now, wipe your face. You look pathetic. My son hates pathetic.”

“Where is he?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

“Waiting.” Hebvron pointed his cane toward a black SUV idling at the curb, its windows tinted so dark they looked like voids. “He’s been watching.”

My stomach dropped. “He’s here?”

“Get in the car, Aurelia.”

It wasn’t a request.

I walked toward the car, the rain plastering my dress to my skin. Arnell opened the back door. I took a breath, steeling myself, and slid onto the leather seat.

The door slammed shut, sealing me in.

The air inside was cold. Freezing. And it smelled of expensive leather, cigar smoke, and something sharp—like winter air.

“You’re wet,” a voice said from the shadows on the other side of the seat.

I turned. And then I stopped breathing.

I knew him. Everyone in the city knew him.

It wasn’t just Hebvron’s son. It was Rieck Valerius. The owner of Rooffe Construction & Co. The man who built skyscrapers and destroyed competitors for sport. I’d seen him on the news just last week, walking out of a court case he’d won, looking bored while reporters screamed his name.

He was richer than Dawson. Dangerous. And rumors said he had a heart made of absolute granite.

In the dim light of the streetlamps passing by, he was devastating. Dark hair, slightly messy. A jawline that looked like it could cut skin. He was wearing a black suit, no tie, the top buttons undone to reveal a hint of a tattoo on his collarbone.

He wasn’t looking at me. He was scrolling on his phone, looking completely uninterested.

“I… I didn’t know it was you,” I whispered.

“If you’re going to speak, make it useful,” Rieck said. His voice was deep, a low rumble that vibrated through the small space. He finally looked up.

His eyes were terrifying. Pale, icy blue. Wolf eyes.

He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my soaked dress, my ruined hair, and my shivering hands. He didn’t offer me his jacket. He didn’t ask if I was okay. He looked at me like I was a stain on his upholstery.

“You’re smaller than the pictures,” he commented, his tone flat. “And you look weak.”

“I’ve had a bad night,” I snapped, a spark of defensive anger flaring up.

“I don’t care,” Rieck replied smoothly. “Driver, go.”

The car surged forward.

“Where are we going?” I asked, gripping the door handle.

“My penthouse. You’re moving in.”

“Tonight? But my things—”

“I’ll have someone burn your things and buy you new ones. I don’t want Dawson’s stench in my house.”

He tossed his phone onto the seat and shifted, turning his body toward me. Suddenly, the large SUV felt tiny. He was broad, taking up so much space, radiating an aggressive energy that made my skin prickle.

“Let’s get the rules straight, little wife,” he said. “My father threatened to give my company—my empire—to my bastard stepbrother if I didn’t marry by midnight. That is the only reason you are breathing my air right now.”

“I know,” I said, trying to keep my chin up. “He told me.”

“Did he tell you that I don’t play house?” Rieck leaned in. He smelled good. Dangerous, but good. “I don’t do dates. I don’t do feelings. And I certainly don’t do ’emotional support’ for cast-aside women.”

“I don’t need your support,” I lied. “I just want revenge on Dawson.”

Rieck laughed. It was a cold, humorless sound.

“Revenge?” He reached out, his hand shooting across the space to grab my chin. His grip was hard, his fingers calloused. He yanked my face toward his until we were inches apart. “Look at you. You’re trembling. You’re a rabbit trying to play with wolves.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he hissed. “You think because you signed a paper, we’re partners? No. You are a shield. A womb. Nothing more.”

His eyes dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes. The intensity of his stare was suffocating.

“I will make your life hell, Aurelia,” he promised, his voice dropping to a seductive, dangerous whisper. I’m going to be ruthless. And if you think you can change me, or fix me, or make me love you… I will break you into so many pieces Dawson won’t even recognize what’s left.”

I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.

“Do you understand me?” he demanded.

“Yes,” I breathed.

He released me abruptly, wiping his hand on his pants as if touching me had dirtied him. He turned back to the window.

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