Contract Marriage With My Billionaire Boss (Venus and Aaron) novel Chapter 69

Chapter 69

VENUS

I stayed at my mother’s for another hour.

We didn’t talk much-not about Aaron, not about the cold war brewing between us, not about the words we’d both swallowed weeks ago. We just were. She made tea the way she always had-loose leaves, no sugar. I helped her fold laundry, soft and worn from years of use. We sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch in that tiny apartment, and for a brief, borrowed moment, the world didn’t feel like it was chewing me up from the inside out.

When I left, I felt… lighter.

Lighter, but not weightless.

That time with my mother, it made something painfully clear. Aaron was right. About the boundaries. About the silence.

About us.

This was a contract. A business arrangement dressed up in diamonds and shared addresses. Nothing more.

And if he could keep his distance, then damn it-I could too.

I had my mother again. I had purpose. That was all that mattered now.

I clung to that truth like armor as I returned to the penthouse that night.

It was empty.

No coat on the rack. Just stillness. Cold and pristine.

A house.

Not a home.

Just like it was always meant to be.

–

SINCLAIR TECH TWO DAYS LATER

The office buzzed like a beehive drowning in espresso. Phones ringing. Deals flying. Projects due.

And me?

Buried in work, mechanical and focused. My head down, my emotions locked up tight behind my ribcage.

Aaron and I had arrived together, of course,bhand in hand, a picture-perfect couple for the waiting photographers. He’d kissed my cheek at the lobby entrance. A perfectly timed peck, like pressing send on an email.

Then we’d split off-him to his office, me to mine.

Two strangers with matching last names.

I was finalizing paperwork for the Al rollout, reviewing every signature box like it held a ticking bomb because it did. Legal messes were Aaron’s idea of hell.

That’s when I noticed the blank space.

Aaron Sinclair. Dorian Sinclair.

Shit.

Of course.

Anyone else could’ve taken the file, but no, somehow it landed on my desk. I could’ve passed it off, sure. But I was already halfway to Aaron’s office before common sense kicked in.

I passed Lilly-unbothered, chewing gum like she hadn’t ruined three interns with a look yesterday. The door to Aaron’s office was already slightly open.

So I walked in.

No knock.

Just stepped in like this was still familiar ground.

Big mistake.

Huge.

Successfully unlocked!

Andrea was there. Pressed up against him like heat-seeking poison. Her lips on his. Her nails clawing lightly at the lapel of

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Chapter 69

his tailored jacket.

And Aaron?

He didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t push her off.

I couldn’t tell if he kissed her back.

But he didn’t stop it.

I stood frozen for half a second too long-long enough to feel the sharp twist in my gut. Not quite heartbreak. But something meaner. Hotter. Closer to betrayal than I’d ever let myself admit.

I turned before they could see me.

Walked out.

Calm. Controlled.

Silent.

Like I hadn’t just been publicly humiliated by my husband in his own damh office.

I returned to my desk. I sat and face-palmed myself.

Not because I was sad.

No.

I wasn’t hurt, not really.

Liar.

It just felt… disrespectful.

He could play his part when it suited him, but when it came to loyalty? To even pretending to care? He couldn’t be bothered.

Fuck him.

I refused to sulk. Refused to let him reduce me to the weeping, trembling girl I’d been months ago.

So I grabbed my purse and the file.

And I stormed out of Sinclair Tech like it was on fire.

SINCLAIR HQ

His floor was quieter.

Sleek. Menacing.

It matched him perfectly.

G

His PA barely glanced up before gesturing me in. Dorian never needed permission to see people. His door was always open

like a dare.

And there he was lounging in his chair like a god damn villain out of a neo-noir dream. Sharp suit, sharper smile. Those icy blue eyes gleaming like blades.

“Venus,” he purred. “You couldn’t stay away, could you?”

His voice was smooth, but there was something jagged underneath. A tension too calculated to be casual.

I wasn’t in the mood.

“I need your signature,” I said flatly, holding the file out like it offended me.

“Ooh. Someone’s in a mood.” He took the folder and flipped it open with exaggerated interest. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” I muttered, “but we’re solid.”

He didn’t laugh, but I could see it in his eyes.

That knowing gleam.

He looked at me the way a predator watches a wounded deer try to outrun its own limp.

His pen hovered above the dotted line.

Then he paused.

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Lifted his gaze.

“You know,” he said slowly, “for someone in a ‘solid’ relationship, you look like hell.”

I froze.

His voice softened. Just enough to sting.

“You’re not very good at hiding pain, Venus.”

I forced a smile. “And you’re not very good at shutting up.”

He signed.

But as he handed the file back, his fingers brushed mine-deliberate. Slow.

“Maybe one day,” he said quietly, “you’ll let someone actually care.”

My heart stuttered.

I snatched the folder, turned away, and practically fled.

But even in the elevator, even with the doors sliding shut, I could still feel the heat of his eyes on my back.

And worse?

Some twisted part of me wanted him to keep looking.

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