Contract Marriage With My Billionaire Boss (Venus and Aaron) novel Chapter 83

Chapter 83

VENUS

We sat there for a while our hands tangled and hearts quiet.

Then I pulled back just enough to study his face. “There’s something else,” I said softly.

Aaron raised a brow, waiting.

“I asked to be transferred back to Sinclair Tech.”

His frown came instantly. Not harsh, just… tight. Controlled. Suble in the way only I could see now.

I tilted my head. “What?”

He didn’t respond right away, just looked down at his coffee like might offer diplomacy.

Then, with a steady calm, he said, “You can work under Dorian.. if that’s what you

want.”

If.

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Just that one word, and the air between us shifted, fraught and heavy. Not angry. Just tense. Unspoken things balancing between us.

“I trust you,” he added.

Simple words. But not simple at all.

Coming from him-Mr. Control, Mr. Locked Vault-that wasn’t just a sentence.

That was surrender.

My throat tightened. I reached across the counter, brushing my fingertips against his knuckles. “You shouldn’t have to say

that.”

His brow lifted.

“I know about Andrea,” I said gently. “How she was feeding information to Dorian behind your back.”

Something flickered in his eyes. A shadow of memory. Of betrayal.

I continued, soft but firm. “I know she broke that trust. That she used your attention as leverage, not connection. But I’m not her, Aaron. I would never do that to you.”

His jaw ticked. For a second, I wasn’t sure if he’d speak.

But then he did.

“You’re not her,” he said quietly. “You’ve never been like her.”

That hit deeper than he knew.

My chest ached.

“It means a lot… that you’re letting me make this choice,” I whispered. “That you’re not trying to stop me, even though I can see how much you hate it.”

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“I don’t hate it,” he muttered. “I just don’t like the idea of you ar Dorian right now. Not after what happened yesterday.”

“I get it. But I want to leave clean. I’m only going back until they and someone to take over my file load.”

His stare didn’t ease. “Just don’t stay longer than necessary.”

“I won’t”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

The weight of that hung between us quiet, heavy and unspoken Then he stood and came around the counter, gently pulling me up with him.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his forehead against mine. “I hate the idea of you being around people who don’t protect you.”

“I know.” I whispered. “But I can protect myself, too.”

His arms tightened. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop wanting to do it for you.”

I closed my eyes.

God, this man.

This still-fractured, steel-spined, tender-in-places-he-hates man

I pressed my hands to his chest and leaned in. “I’m not going anywhere, Aaron.”

“I know,” he murmured.

And this time?

He believed it.

I didn’t want a car.

Truly.

The last thing I needed was to scream trophy wife in traffic, driving some glossy, pretentious beast of a machine. But Aaron had made up his mind.

And when Aaron Sinclair decides something… he executes.

So by afternoon, I stood inside a private showroom on the 40th floor of Sinclair Auto Holdings, eyeing two sedans and one soft charcoal coupe like they were weapons instead of vehicles.

“I don’t want anything flashy,” I said again for what felt like the fourth time.

“You’re not choosing based on flash,” he replied without missing a beat. “You’re choosing based on safety, comfort, and handling. The coupe’s cute, but it’s too low to the ground. I’m not having you dragged across potholes like you’re riding at skateboard.”

I snorted. “You sound like a paranoid dad.”

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I sound like a man who loves seeing you drive off and wants to make damn sure you come

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back.”

My breath caught.

God.

He said that like it was the simplest truth in the world, and yet ift me reeling.

I loved this version of Aaron. The quiet, guarded softness. The way he wrapped protection in steel.

In the end, I picked the Genesis.

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Charcoal gray. Sleek, Understated. It whispered wealth instead of screaming it. The interior was warm leather, the engine a sofi purr. I sat in the driver’s seat and smiled.

“I love it,” I said, hand sliding over the wheel.

“Good,” he said. “Because it’s yours.”

“I’m driving myself today,” I reminded him.

His brow rose. “No driver?”

“Nope.”

“No security either?”

I shook my head. “I can handle one day of work without a fleet trailing behind me.”

His jaw flexed. “Humor doesn’t lower the risk.”

“I’m not helpless.”

“I never said you were,” he said evenly, stepping closer, voice dropping. “But let me be clear, Venus. The second you feel unsafe you call me. Not Jude. Not Gianna. Not your mom. Not even security. Me. Got it?”

I swallowed. “Got it.”

“Good girl.”

Those words… they should’ve been dangerous. And maybe they were.

But I wanted to drown in them.

He insisted on dropping me off himself, claiming he needed “one last excuse to stare at my legs.” I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t fight him.

When we pulled up to Sinclair HQ, he reached across the console, brushing a thumb along the inside of my wrist.

“Call me when you’re done.”

“I will.”

“I mean it, Venus.”

I smiled. “I know.”

He didn’t kiss my lips-just my knuckles.

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And somehow… that hit deeper.

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Work started off quiet.

I reviewed reports. Avoided Dorian. Smiled politely at the whispering staff who still used “Mrs. Sinclair like it tasted wrong in their mouths.

By afternoon, I was deep into reorganizing a botched pitch folder when Dorian’s voice cut in behind me.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually working.”

I turned, already tired. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t lounge around eating grapes in Aaron’s penthouse.”

He smirked. “Disappointing.”

“What do you want, Dorian?”

“Nothing. Just checking on my favorite temporary employee.”

“I’m only here until they find a replacement.”

“We’ll see.”

Something about the way he said that-soft, amused, possessive-made my skin crawl.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of controlled banter and necessary detachment… until one of the filing cabinet jammed.

I crouched down to fix it, muttering under my breath, when Dorian joined me, kneeling beside me, reaching for the lock

Our hands brushed. Once. Then again.

He leaned over, arm braced above me, just as I turned to speak.

We froze.

Face to face.

Too close.

His breath warm against my cheek.

And I didn’t move.

Neither did he.

My pulse stuttered.

A knock shattered the tension like a brick through glass.

The door opened.

And there he was.

Gerald.

Standing in the doorway like he owned the damn building.

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His eyes swept over the scene in one clean, calculated line.

“Venus,” he said with a smile too smooth to trust, “they told me you were still in at reception.”

He looked at Dorian. “Dorian,” he nodded in greeting.

I stood up quickly, putting distance between us. Dorian did too,earing his throat as if nothing had just happened.

Gerald’s eyes flicked between us.

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