When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 69

Ethan

I heard Ashley's heels angrily stomping on the marble floor outside the conference room. Her voice reached me before she did.

"Ethan, they're bullying me, and you're not even helping!" She sounded like a petulant child who'd had her favorite toy taken away.

I turned to face her, keeping my expression deliberately blank. "Were you planning to tell everyone that your father's company is facing a bankruptcy investigation?"

Ashley's mouth opened, then closed. Awareness flickered across her face as she realized her outburst had been overheard by several executives walking past. She quickly smoothed down her Chanel dress and ran fingers through her perfectly styled hair.

Michael stood a few feet away, his expression making it clear what he thought of Ashley's theatrics. The slight eye roll wasn't lost on me.

"Let's continue this inside," I said, gesturing toward the conference room.

Once inside, I took my seat at the head of the table, not bothering to offer her a chair. "You have five minutes. Use them wisely."

Ashley gathered herself, putting on the composed socialite act she'd perfected over years of practice. "I need you to have your PR team pull down the trending topics about me on Twitter and Instagram. And I need you to maintain the project partnership with Miller Group."

I leaned back in my chair, my fingers steepled. Her desperation was palpable, but it moved nothing in me. Whatever feelings I once had for her had been crushed under the weight of her manipulation and cruelty.

"I can arrange to have the social media trends removed," I said coldly. "But the partnership is non-negotiable. And don't come to Black Investment Group again."

"But Ethan—"

"This meeting is over." I stood up, ignoring her attempt to grab my arm as I walked past her. I caught Michael's eye and gave him the slightest nod—our signal that he should report to me later about the FBI's investigation into Miller Group.

Ashley's voice rose behind me. "You can't do this to me! After everything we shared!"

I didn't bother responding. Some bridges needed to burn completely before you could walk away.

---

I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office, staring out at the Manhattan skyline. My phone rang, and the caller ID flashed SEC—Securities and Exchange Commission.

"Ethan Black speaking," I answered, my voice firm.

"Mr. Black, this is Commissioner Reynolds. We're reopening the review of the bidding process for—"

"Let me stop you right there," I cut in. "When your investigation concludes that Black Investment Group conducted itself with complete transparency and adherence to regulations, I expect a public statement on your website clarifying our innocence."

After ending the call, I turned to Michael who had just entered. "Find out who requested the review of the bidding process. Handle it."

"Already on it," Michael replied. "James called. He wanted to know if you needed his help with the Ashley situation."

"Call him back. I'll speak to him myself."

I wasn't concerned about the SEC review. Our bidding had been meticulously documented and followed every regulation to the letter.

When James answered, I got straight to the point. "I need you to pull down the social media trending topics about Ashley."

"Can't do it," James replied, sounding annoyingly cheerful. "Client paid for 24 hours of exposure. I'm not about to ruin my side business's reputation in social media management."

"Is there any way the client might pull it themselves?"

"They paid ten grand in total, Ethan—half to expose Emily, half to expose Ashley. And think about it—who have those two pissed off recently?"

His words hit me like a thunderbolt. 'Amelia'. It had to be her. I hadn't expected her to use such underhanded tactics, but she clearly intended to get revenge before leaving.

"You still there?" James asked.

"Yeah," I managed.

"What's wrong? Getting divorced made your brain stop working?" James chuckled.

I hung up without responding, my mind racing. Amelia had outwitted me, used my own methods against me. I couldn't help but feel a grudging admiration for her cleverness.

---

Ashley

I slipped into a fresh Chanel suit and carefully reapplied my makeup, hiding any trace of tears or stress. The Metropolitan Opera would have to wait—my family's legacy was more important at the moment. I needed Noah's help, and I wasn't leaving Randal Pictures without it.

Walking through the sleek corridors of the company, I could feel the stares. Everyone had seen the stories. Everyone knew I wasn't really a Randal. The whispers followed me like a shadow.

"Is Noah in his office?" I asked his assistant, forcing my most charming smile.

"He's expecting you, Miss Randal." The pointed emphasis on my last name didn't escape me.

I walked in without knocking. Noah was standing by the window, his back to me.

"Your employees are being incredibly rude," I complained, dropping my bag on one of his leather chairs.

Noah turned slowly. "Maybe because they know you're not actually their boss's sister?"

"That's what I'm here about," I said, cutting to the chase. "Ethan is being impossible. Is he in love with that doctor or something?"

Noah laughed, the sound cutting through me. "You know that and still think he has feelings for you? After everything you've done?"

"We have history," I insisted. "He was my first—"

"Spare me the details," Noah interrupted. "What do you want, Ashley?"

"I need your help. My father's company needs funding. Now that my identity is public, people are pulling their investments from Miller Enterprises."

Noah's expression hardened. "What exactly are you asking for?"

"A loan," I said quickly. "Or a partnership. Anything to keep the company afloat until this blows over."

Noah walked to his desk and sat down, looking suddenly weary. "My bottom line is helping you clear the company's books, then you declare bankruptcy and restructure."

"What? That would destroy us!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"You have 48 hours to start liquidating assets," Noah said firmly.

Rage boiled up inside me. "You're pushing us toward a dead end! This is too much! You know this will ruin my future in opera!"

Noah's eyes flashed. "You've been living the socialite life for years, enjoying all the perks of being a Randal. Be grateful for what you had. Uncle Nathan never had any business acumen—he just misappropriated funds."

I grabbed my bag, fury making my hands shake. "You'll regret this, Noah. I promise you that."

I stormed out of his office, barely seeing where I was going. The elevator ride to the lobby felt endless. My head was pounding, the stress of the past few days crashing down on me all at once.

The lobby's Italian marble floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. Black spots danced in my vision. I tried to steady myself against a column, but my knees buckled.

The last thing I heard was someone holding me as the world went dark around me.