When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 40

Ethan

After Amelia headed out to the hospital, I ended up alone with George in the big dining room.

The smell of fresh coffee filled the quiet space between us. Grandfather took his sweet time, sipping from that old silver cup that’s been in the family forever.

“Time flies,” he said at last, setting the cup down with a careful clink. His sharp eyes locked on me with that look that’s made Wall Street big shots sweat. “You’re already halfway through this marriage.”

I stopped mid-sip, his words hitting me like a brick. Three months felt like forever when we started this deal, but now, at the halfway mark, there’s this weird pressure I can’t shake.

“If you two decide to split when the contract’s up,” Grandfather went on, his voice heavy with years of hard-earned wisdom, “I’m not gonna stand in your way.”

I didn’t say a word, my brain scrambling to keep up with how straight-up he was being about this.

“Amelia’s a good woman. I’ve got a lot of respect for her,” he said, his face softening when he mentioned her. “But more than anything, I want her to be happy. Really happy.”

He paused, running his weathered fingers along the edge of his cup. “If you can’t give her that…” Another pause, like he was choosing his words carefully. “She deserves a guy who’s gonna love her for real.”

The idea of “some other guy” hit me like a punch. My hand tightened around my coffee mug without me even thinking about it, this raw, possessive feeling surging up. The thought of Amelia with someone else twisted something deep in my gut that I wasn’t ready to deal with.

Grandfather watched me, those old eyes cutting right through to the mess in my head. After a beat, he just sighed, the sound loaded with stuff I wasn’t ready to face.

I finished my coffee without saying a thing, the bitter taste sticking around while his words kept looping in my mind.

I shut myself in my office at Black Investment Group, lighting one cigarette after another, trying to dull this restless itch I couldn’t pin down. The ashtray was a mess of stubs, smoke curling around me like the jumbled mess of my thoughts.

Half the contract time’s already gone. The investigation into Viktor Group is crawling along, and the whole reason I married Amelia in the first place—that gut feeling of suspicion—is starting to fall apart. There’s just no solid proof.

So what’s this weird tightness in my chest? Frustration over the dead-end investigation? Or something messier about Amelia—something I’m not ready to put a name to?

The door swung open, and Michael walked in, immediately coughing as the thick smoke hit him.

“Damn, boss,” he choked out, rushing to crack open the windows. “What are you doing to yourself?”

I stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray, my voice rough from chain-smoking. “Dig into Emily Thompson’s background,” I told him, brushing off his worry.

“Focus on when she and her mom showed up in the Thompson family,” I instructed, remembering what Amelia had mentioned yesterday.

Michael nodded, tapping notes into his tablet. He started to head out but stopped when I called after him.

“And…” I hesitated, feeling like an idiot even as I said it. “Buy those clothes back. The ones I tossed. Exact same ones.”

Michael kept his face straight, professional as always, but I caught the quick flash of surprise in his eyes before he nodded and left.

My phone buzzed, snapping me out of my head. Noah Randall’s name popped up on the screen.

“What’s up, Black?” His voice had that slick, playboy vibe that gets him into every VIP room in Manhattan.

“Get to the point, Randall,” I shot back, ice in my tone. “I’m not in the mood for chit-chat.”

“Always so cold,” he chuckled. “Just checking in on you and Amelia. How’s the whole contract marriage thing going?”

Hearing her name made my jaw clench. “Why do you care?”

“Relax, man, I’m not trying to step on your turf. I wouldn’t dare mess with your girl. I’m just curious about your relationship.”

I didn’t bite at his bait, but my mind wandered to Amelia anyway—how focused she gets talking about her patients, the soft way she handles newborns, the way she held her own when we sparred.

“Ethan? You still there?” Noah’s voice dragged me back.

“Yeah.” I didn’t give him anything else, still stuck on thoughts of her.

“One more thing,” Noah said, his tone shifting to something more serious, which isn’t like him. “Ashley’s back in New York.”

Hearing my ex’s name didn’t hit like it used to. There was a time when just mentioning Ashley would’ve sent me into a tailspin—anger or sadness, depending on the day. Now? Just a mild irritation at the potential headache.

“What’s your sister coming back got to do with me?” I asked, keeping my voice flat. When she walked out years ago, saying she needed to focus on her career overseas, she should’ve known I’d be done with her for good.

“You tell me,” Noah said. “She probably doesn’t even know you’re married now.”

“Most likely she’s here for you,” he added. “But honestly, she seems like a genuinely good person, unlike most people in our circle. If you’re not really into her, don’t string her along. Don’t forget, this marriage of yours is just temporary.”

Hearing him talk up Amelia sparked this weird mix of pride and that same possessive streak I felt at breakfast with Grandfather.

“You’re awfully worried about other people all of a sudden,” I said, a sharp edge slipping into my tone. “But she doesn’t stand a chance.”

I hung up before he could say more, not in the mood to keep this going.

As I set the phone down, it hit me how vague my last line was. Did I mean Ashley doesn’t stand a chance of getting back with me? Or that Amelia doesn’t stand a chance of walking away?

The fact that I wasn’t sure bugged me more than I wanted to admit.