Contract Marriage With My Billionaire Boss (Venus and Aaron) novel Chapter 67

Chapter 67

VENUS

Dinner was a performance.

Crystal glasses. Polished silver. Courses so delicate they looked painted on the plates.

And yet, the moment I stepped into the room, I felt it-that shift.

Aaron was already seated at the head of the table, one arm draped lazily over the back of his chair like a king surveying his kingdom. But when his eyes found mine, that lazy calm cracked. Just for a second. Just enough.

I didn’t break eye contact as I moved toward my seat.

His gaze sharpened. Like he knew. Like he always knew.

Sabine sat across from me, expression unreadable, her fingers wrapped too tightly around her wine glass. Connor arrived a beat late, which meant he’d been avoiding her-or trying not to look like he’d been looking for her. Rosemary, back in full hostess mode, floated through pleasantries like she hadn’t just unraveled my entire emotional foundation twenty minutes

ago.

Aaron said nothing. Not yet.

But I could feel it.

That tension. That unspoken what did she tell you curling beneath his calm like a sleeping storm.

The first course came and went. Conversation flowed around stocks, campaigns, art exhibits. I barely registered any of it.

Because he was watching me.

Not overtly. No-he was far too skilled for that.

But every time I moved, his eyes tracked. Every time I lifted my fork or shifted in my seat or dared to smile at something Rosemary said-he watched.

And then-

“Is something wrong with the soup, sweetheart?”

His voice was velvet laced with warning.

The table went still.

I looked up. Met those hazel eyes head-on.

“No,” I said smoothly. “Why do you ask?”

“You haven’t touched it,” he replied. “Or maybe you’re full from your… conversation with my mother?”

There it was.

Subtle.

Sharp.

I held his gaze. “It was a nice conversation.”

“I bet,” he said, swirling his wine but not drinking it. “She has a habit of saying nice things when she wants something.”

The air thinned.

Rosemary raised a brow. “And you

have a habit of assuming the worst, even when it’s not there.”

He didn’t flinch. “Because I usually end up being right.”

“Well, this time you’re not,” she said, simply.

Aaron’s eyes slid back to mine.

“Did she ask you to save me, Venus?”

I didn’t blink.

“No,” I said, calm. “She didn’t have to.”

His fingers tightened around the glass.

Successfully unlocked!

Sabine coughed. Connor found the salt shaker incredibly interesting.

Rosemary smiled faintly. “Imagine that. A woman doing something because she wants to.”

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Chapter 67

Aaron’s jaw tensed. He leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving mine.

“You think I need saving?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t know if it was his pride asking.

Or the boy buried beneath the fortress of steel and silence.

Either way-he felt it. The shift. The slow erosion of walls he built too well.

I set my napkin down gently and leaned forward.

“I think… we all do. In our own way.”

And for the first time since I met him, Aaron Sinclair didn’t have a comeback.

Just silence.

And a look that burned with something raw.

Something that looked a lot like fear.

The rest of dinner passed like a storm that never quite touched ground.

We said our polite goodbyes to Silas, who seemed oddly preoccupied. Then came Alana-sweet, sharp-eyed Alana-who latched onto Aaron’s side like his favorite shadow. She tilted her face up, whispering something only he could hear, and for the first time in hours… he smiled.

Small. Fleeting. But real.

“I want both of you there next week,” she said, grinning. “My birthday party. At the condo. Don’t be late.”

Aaron raised a brow. “You don’t even know if I’m invited.”

“You’re always invited.” Then she turned to me, eyes bright. “And so is your wife.”

My breath caught.

Wife.

She said it like a fairytale. Like there weren’t legal papers and fine print and expiry dates hanging over it.

“Fine,” Aaron said with a resigned sigh. “We’ll be there.”

Alana squealed, throwing her arms around him again. “I’ll text you the theme.”

“Please don’t,” he muttered.

We left not long after. No one spoke of the tension still clinging to us like smoke.

Not Sabine’s tight-lipped goodbye.

Not Connor’s last glance in her direction.

Not the way Aaron’s hand settled on my waist just a fraction too tight as we stepped into the car.

Back at the penthouse, the silence was thick. A warning. A challenge.

門

Aaron shrugged off his coat without looking at me. Walked straight into the living room and poured himself a drink like it was a lifeline.

I stayed by the door, arms folded, heart burning.

“Are you going to ignore me all night?” I asked.

He let out a low, bitter laugh. “Trust me. That’d be easier.”

“Than what?”

His gaze snapped to mine. His voice cut like a blade.

“Than you digging into things that don’t concern you.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He stepped forward-calm, controlled, deadly. “Don’t talk to my mother about me. Don’t try to fix things. Don’t try to understand me.”

My chest tightened. “She wanted to talk-”

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Chapter 67

“And you should’ve shut her down.”

“Why?” I snapped. “Because it scares you to be seen?”

He laughed again-quieter, darker. “No. Because it’s not your place.”

I swallowed down the ache building in my throat. “So I’m supposed to pretend I don’t care? That what she told me meant nothing?”

His expression turned cold.

“This is a contract, Venus. You signed on for three years. Not for love. Not for me.”

The words hit like a slap.

I froze. “Is that how you really see it?”

“I see it exactly as it is.” He tossed back the rest of his drink. “You get what you want-money for your mother. I get what I want my inheritance. Clean. Efficient. No emotion required.”

Emotion not allowed. That’s what he really meant.

I stepped forward, fire in my veins. “So everything else? The way you look at me? The way you touched me-”

He cut me off with a stare so sharp it might’ve drawn blood.

“Don’t confuse chemistry with meaning. I can want your body and not give a damn about you.”

The air left my lungs.

But I didn’t let him see it.

Instead, I straightened. Lifted my chin.

“Right,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry for overstepping.”

And I turned.

Walked to the room with fire in my lungs and steel in my spine.

But even with my back to him, I felt it—

His eyes.

Burning.

Regretful.

Caged.

And furious at the one person he couldn’t outrun.

Himself.

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