When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 48

Olivia

An insistent ringing pierced through my dreams, dragging me reluctantly toward consciousness. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and I couldn't seem to pry my eyelids open all the way. Where was that annoying sound coming from?

"Olivia," a deep male voice beside me murmured. "It's Amelia calling you."

I felt someone gently nudging my shoulder, but I was still too disoriented to process what was happening. Groggily, I reached for what I assumed was my phone.

"This early?" I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep and annoyance. "What's the emergency?"

"Liv," Amelia's voice came through, sounding concerned. "Are you... you're with Noah? Noah Randall?"

Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water. My eyes flew open as reality crashed in. I bolted upright, clutching the sheet to my chest as I stared in horror at the man lying next to me. Noah Randall—shirtless, his golden-brown hair tousled from sleep, watching me with those knowing hazel eyes.

I quickly lifted the edge of the blanket, confirming my worst fears. I was completely naked, and the sight of faint marks on my inner thigh brought flashes of memory—Noah's mouth on my skin, his hands in my hair, my own voice begging for more...

"I... I need to call you back," I stammered into the phone, panic rising in my throat.

"Liv, what's going on? Did you really sleep with Noah?" Amelia pressed.

"Yes! No! I mean... I'll explain later!" I frantically hit the end call button, my face burning with mortification.

For several seconds, I just sat there, frozen, as fragments of the previous night floated through my mind. The party at the Thompson house. The strange bitter taste in my champagne. The sudden heat that had flooded my body. Calling someone for help...

"Good morning, sunshine," Noah said with an infuriating smirk. "Sleep well?"

That smirk was the spark that ignited my rage. I channeled every ounce of strength into my legs and kicked him hard, sending him flying off the king-sized bed. "You absolute bastard! Get the fuck away from me!"

Noah landed on the plush carpet with a satisfying thud. "Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, looking up at me with surprise. "Is this how you thank all your rescuers? Oscar-worthy mood swing, Bennett!"

I grabbed a pillow and hurled it at his face with all my might. "Rescuer? You took advantage of me, you piece of shit!" I reached for another pillow, launching it directly at his chest. "I was drugged!"

"Whoa, hold on," Noah said, dodging my third projectile as he scrambled to his feet. "Before you continue your pillow assault, you might want to check who you called last night."

"What are you talking about?" I spat, clutching the sheet around me like armor.

"Look at your call history," he said, retrieving his boxers from the floor and pulling them on. "You called me."

I glared at him suspiciously but reached for my phone on the nightstand. My stomach dropped as I scrolled through my recent calls—there it was, a call to Noah last night that lasted two minutes.

"This doesn't prove anything," I said, though my conviction was weakening.

"Hollywood, I think this will clarify things," Noah said, his tone gentler now as he picked up his own phone. "I recorded part of our encounter—not for blackmail purposes, but because you were clearly not yourself, and I figured you'd need proof in the morning."

He handed me his phone, and I reluctantly pressed play on the video. My breath caught in my throat as I watched myself—eyes glassy but unmistakably determined—straddling Noah's lap, my dress hiked up to indecent heights. My arms were wrapped around his neck, and I was pressing myself against him like I couldn't get close enough.

"Noah... I feel so strange tonight..." my recorded voice purred, leaning in to plant red lipstick kisses along his jaw.

"You've had too much to drink. Let me take you home," Noah's voice responded, his hands firmly on my waist but not wandering.

"Don't be such a buzzkill, director..." Video-me pouted, trailing my fingers down his chest suggestively. "I'll even work in your next film for free..."

I couldn't watch anymore. I thrust the phone back at him, mortification making it hard to breathe. "Oh my God," I whispered, the reality of what I'd done—what I'd initiated—sinking in.

"Look, don't worry about it," Noah said, sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed. "I used protection. I'm not a complete asshole."

I buried my face in my hands. "This is a disaster," I groaned. "I... we've worked together. This changes everything."

Before I could spiral further, my phone rang again. My manager's name flashed on the screen, and I felt a fresh wave of panic. Taking a deep breath, I answered with forced cheerfulness.

"Stella? Why are you calling so early?"

"Liv, where are you? Three magazine reporters have been waiting for an hour! Did you forget about the Vogue cover shoot this morning?" Stella's voice was a mixture of concern and exasperation.

"I, um, stayed at a friend's place overnight," I lied, shooting a warning glare at Noah, who was silently laughing at my predicament. "My doctor friend, you know."

Noah mouthed "Doctor friend?" with raised eyebrows, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

"Well, you need to pull yourself together and get here ASAP," Stella continued. "Or I can send a car for you—just give me the address."

"No!" I practically shouted. "No, that's not necessary. I'll grab a cab and be there soon. Just... stall them for me, okay?"

I hung up before she could ask any more questions, then turned my glare back to Noah. "Not. A. Word."

He approached with a glass of water, his expression amused but surprisingly gentle. "Professional actress telling professional lies, I see, Bennett."

I accepted the water without meeting his eyes. "This doesn't have to be awkward," I said, trying to sound casual. "We're both adults. One-night stand. It happens."

I stood up, letting the sheet fall away as I began searching for my scattered clothing. I felt his eyes on me but refused to give him the satisfaction of appearing self-conscious. My dress was crumpled beyond repair, and one of my Jimmy Choo heels had somehow ended up under the bed.

As I struggled with my zipper, I felt Noah's warm fingers on my back. "Let me help," he said, his voice unexpectedly soft.

"Thanks," I muttered, stepping away quickly once the zipper was up. "Like I said, this is just... research for a future role."

Noah leaned against the doorframe, watching me attempt to restore some dignity to my appearance. "You were quite the star last night," he said with that infuriating half-smile. "If you ever need to film a bed scene, just call me. I guarantee you'll win that Oscar you've been chasing."

I lifted my chin, channeling every bit of Hollywood poise I'd perfected over years of red carpets and press junkets. "Dream on, Randall," I retorted. "My acting skills don't need your direction. Occasionally appearing in your films is generous enough already."

With that final barb, I strode toward the elevator with as much grace as possible in last night's rumpled gown and painful heels.