When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 52

Amelia

I stared at my phone, thumbs hovering over the screen, trying to figure out how to tell Olivia about last night.

Man, my life was such a mess.

Just as I was about to start typing, my phone rang. Olivia's face popped up, her expression frantic before she even said a word.

"Amelia! Help! I need you right now!" Her voice was breathless, almost panicked.

"What's going on? Are you okay?" I was already standing, grabbing my purse.

"My damn PR team set me up with this 'casual fan encounter' stunt, and guess who the 'fan' is? Noah Randall! That arrogant jerk! I'm at Birch Coffee on 5th. Please hurry before I lose it and start throwing drinks!"

I couldn't help but grin. Classic Olivia drama. "On my way. Try not to murder anyone before I get there."

"No promises!"

Twenty minutes later, I pushed open the door of the upscale coffee shop and immediately spotted Olivia's bright red hair. She was sitting across from Noah, clutching her latte like it was a lifeline, her arm halfway raised like she was about to throw it in his face.

Noah, meanwhile, looked completely unfazed, casually adjusting the sleeve of what had to be a five-thousand-dollar suit, oozing that effortless confidence. When he saw me, he flashed that movie-star smile—the one that's been on every magazine cover.

"Mrs. Black! Perfect timing," he said smoothly. "I was just telling Olivia about a new film project. Haven't upset her at all, despite the look on her face."

Olivia shot him a glare that could have melted steel.

Noah stood, straightening his already flawless suit. "Since Mrs. Black's here, why don't I treat you both to dinner at my new restaurant? Private room, no paparazzi. My treat."

Olivia laughed, cold and sharp. "Hard pass. I'd rather not be tomorrow's tabloid headline. Come on, Amelia." She set down her coffee carefully and grabbed my arm, practically dragging me toward the door.

"Goodbye, Mr. Randall," I called over my shoulder as Olivia pulled me outside.

Once inside Olivia's luxury sedan, she exploded.

"Can you believe this crap? My manager must be out of her mind! Setting me up with Noah Randall? She knows exactly what kind of player he is!" Olivia's hands flew around as she ranted, nearly hitting the car ceiling.

"And that smile! That fake, 'I'm so charming' bullshit! Who does he think he's fooling?" Her face flushed with anger. "He's slept with half of Hollywood and now acts like some tortured artist? Please."

I handed her a water bottle from my purse, laughing. "Take a breath before your blood pressure spikes. I don't want to play emergency doc on my day off."

Olivia grabbed the bottle and took a few long gulps. "I just don't get it, Ames. Why are all the men in Manhattan such phonies? Especially these trust fund babies!"

"Careful," I teased. "You're technically one of those trust fund babies."

"That's different, and you know it," she huffed, but a smile tugged at her lips.

Thirty minutes later, we were tucked away in a private room at Le Bernardin—one of the few places Olivia could eat without being mobbed by paparazzi.

"So," Olivia said after we ordered, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, "what's going on with you? You look like hell warmed over."

I toyed with my water glass, the words suddenly sticking in my throat. "Ethan came home last night reeking of another woman's perfume."

Olivia's eyes widened. "What the fuck? Are you serious?"

I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady. "I waited up for him. Made dinner. Wanted to thank him for... you know, saving me at my father's party." I let out a bitter laugh. "He walked in after midnight, looking exhausted and Liv, there was lipstick on his collar."

"That son of a bitch!" Olivia slammed her hand on the table, making the silverware jump. "That uptight asshole seemed so proper, and he's just another cheating jerk?"

I shrugged, trying to sound indifferent but failing. "It's not a big deal. We're in a contract marriage, remember? Exclusivity was never part of the deal."

"Bullshit," Olivia said, seeing right through me. "You're hurt. Don't pretend you're not."

I picked at my salad, unable to meet her eyes. "The hospital's offering this amazing three-year medical exchange program in Boston. It's super competitive—only five doctors nationwide got picked as candidates."

"And you're one of them?" Olivia's anger momentarily gave way to surprise.

"Yeah. I'm thinking I should take it. After the divorce, I probably need to start fresh. Getting away from here means getting away from my dad, which is a plus." I looked up at her, forcing a smile. "It's perfect timing, really."

Olivia studied me carefully. "Is that what you really want?"

"What I want doesn't matter," I said quietly. "This is the reality. Ethan clearly has other priorities, and I need to focus on my career. Three years is plenty of time to figure out what I want."

When I got back to the apartment, it was already dark. I kicked off my shoes and changed into something comfortable, trying not to think about Ethan or Boston or any of it. I was settling on the couch with my laptop to catch up on medical journals when a notification popped up.

New email. Anonymous sender.

A cold knot formed in my stomach as I opened it. No text, just a bunch of photos attached. The first one made my breath catch.

A beautiful woman in a bright red dress was embracing Ethan, and they seemed to be in a hotel restaurant.

I closed the email without looking at the rest and deleted it. I didn't need to see more. Whoever sent it made their point.

I stared blankly at my screen, trying to process what I'd just seen, when the door to Ethan's study opened. He walked out, looking tired but put together, as always in his perfectly tailored clothes.

His eyes locked on mine, intense as ever. "Something wrong? You look troubled."

I shook my head, forcing a neutral expression. "Just tired."

He nodded, then reached into his pocket. "By the way, I found this in my room. I think it's what you've been looking for."

He held out a small, worn sachet, and my heart skipped. It was my mother's—the one I'd found in her old room at the brownstone. I'd been frantic when I realized it was missing.

My fingers trembled as I took it, inhaling the faint, familiar scent clinging to the fabric. "Thank you," I said quietly, unable to meet his eyes.