Secret Billionaire’s Contract Bride: Marrying My Enemy’s Lover

Chapter 17

When consciousness returned to me, I was alone. The bed was empty except for me. My clothes were still thrown all over the floor. I clutched the blanket to my chest, covering my bare body as I sat up in bed.

It took a minute until I realized where I was and what exactly had happened. Once I did, I fell back into the pillows with a big oof. I was still in disbelief over what happened.

My arms were covered in red marks, and I was sure the rest of my body was much the same.

His voice still rang in my ears, my name the last thing I heard as he repeated it over and over before I finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

I felt like I had been run over by a truck; there was not a single part of me that wasn’t bruised or aching. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was already well past noon.

I was lucky I had the day off today. I was going to need time to recover.

It took me a while to muster up the strength and energy to get out of bed, take a shower, and peel my clothes off the floor.

Once I was dressed, I headed into the kitchen, my stomach rumbling for sustenance. But it turned out, I didn’t need to.

On the counter sat a simple black mug and three pancakes in an even row on a plate. Butter and syrup had been left out. The apartment was strangely quiet.

I frowned, gazing around the empty apartment in case Damon suddenly showed up to claim the food. With a shrug, I approached, squeezing onto one of the kitchen barstools. There was a note left to the

right of the food, and I read it as I took a sip of my cooled coffee.

‘Addie,

I made breakfast and coffee. Have as much as you want. I had to leave on a business trip for a week and a half, but I’ll be back in time to have our wedding. We’ll need to have some kind of ceremony if we want the press to stop being so nosy. Sorry for leaving without telling you, but you were too cute to wake up.

Chapter 17 -Damon’

I nearly choked on my coffee, my face burning bright red at the last words. Cute? Me?

I crumpled the note in my hand and dropped it to the side. I glanced at the pancakes. Topped with strawberries and a dollop of whipped cream.

He really knew me too well. And he thought I was cute. How long had he thought that?

I wasn’t really sure how to feel about everything that had happened. Last night was… impulsive.

Most of it was a blur once I had shut my brain off. All I could remember was the feelings.

It wasn’t bad, though. I thought blushing as I drank the rest of my coffee. Damon knew what he was doing, and while I felt exhausted, I also felt extremely satisfied.

I devoured my pancakes in an attempt to force myself to stop thinking and sighed, rinsing off the plate and putting it in the sink once I was done.

I went to grab another cup of coffee from the still-full pot when I spotted. something large and dark moving in the corner of my vision.

I screamed, automatically throwing the mug in my hand at the figure as if that would stop an intruder. The man screamed as soon as I did and somehow caught the mug in his hand with barely a fumble.

“Who are you? What are you doing in here? Get out!” I screamed, rounding on the man as I grabbed the coffee pot like it was going to

protect me.

“Whoa, whoa!” The man raised his hands in defense, the cup still clutched in his fist.

“Chill, it’s cool. I’m Peter, I’m Damon’s friend,” he said with his hands. held up in surrender. The man before me did not look like a Peter.

He looked like he would be named something scary like Cobra or Rocky. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a sci-fi movie, a comic book, or something. He was huge-six feet six at least, and I probably weighed the same amount as his overly-muscled bicep.

“If you’re Damon’s friend, what are you doing here?” I asked, suspiciously.

Peter set down the mug I threw gently on the counter, not taking a step close to me. His movements were slow and gentle like he was trying not to spook me. I appreciated it, but I also felt like a wild animal he was trying to tame.

“I’m an ex-marine.” Peter explained, slowly. “Damon sent me to watch over you while he’s gone. To make sure you’re safe. I didn’t think you’d be up yet.

“A bodyguard?” My eyes went wide, forgetting that Peter was still very much a stranger as I set down the coffee pot with an incredulous look.

“Yeah.” Peter nodded, happily. He smiled at me, thinking I’d be happy about the news as well.

I was not.

“I don’t need a bodyguard!” I grabbed the basket of oranges sitting on the counter and threw them at him, one by one.

Peter, as I learned, was a very stubborn person. He looked like a kicked puppy as he followed me around everywhere but the bathroom. It was very annoying to have a shadow.

It was almost 3:00 by the time I was ready to leave the house, but Peter didn’t seem to mind the slow morning, all smiles and happy hums.

It was quite a departure from his appearance, especially since he was dressed in a black suit with black sunglasses, looking like a real bodyguard.

“You can go home, you know,” I grumbled, unhappily as we left the

casino.

“Nope!” He popped the P, still grinning like a mad fool. “Damon would kill me if I left you alone.”

“He’d be doing me a favor,” I mumbled under my breath. As soon as I took a single foot outside, however, I heard the click of a camera. I whirled my head around looking for the source of the sound.

The glint of a camera lens in the bushes was all I saw before Peter

grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the casino, blocking me behind his huge body. I huffed but was secretly glad not to be harassed by the paparazzi.

“We’ll take the backdoor,” Peter said, seriously.

“But my car-” I protested as he ushered me through the winding casino. halls.

“I’ll have someone pick it up later. I’m taking you back to your house so you can pack,” Peter told me, firmly.

“Pack?” I glanced around bewilderedly but Peter was a master of his craft. His smile had disappeared, replaced by a serious and hard look.

He pushed me gently out the backdoor, still as fancy as the front, as he led me through the gardens. I didn’t have time to stop and smell the flowers, however as he ushered me to a sleek, black car.

“Am I going to be staying in the penthouse?” I asked, still not following the logic. My brain was still trying to catch up with me.

Peter shook his head as he opened the door to the car for me. I got in reluctantly and he shut the door quietly behind me.

The tinted windows covered any hint of sunshine, seeming dark and depressing without it.

As soon as Peter got behind the wheel, I realized his sunny disposition was just a cover for the madman underneath.

Peter drove like a maniac, going way above the speed limit and taking turns at 50 mph. Enough that I kept sliding around in the backseat, hitting wall to wall until I had the sense to buckle my seatbelt.

We got to my apartment in record time. I sat breathing heavily in the backseat, clutching the headrest in front of me tightly between my hands.

I thought about running as I headed up to my apartment, packing some clothes and necessities in a bag.

But it was pretty obvious that Peter was faster and stronger than I was. He’d catch me in a heartbeat. As nice as he was, I hated being watched.

I sighed as I packed my things, not even sure where I was going to be the next couple of days. If I was going to leave the city, I had a few things I needed to do first.

I grabbed my laptop and opened it up as I typed the address of my student debt website. When I logged on, however, my jaw dropped.

The balance was zero.

What? I sat there stunned into silence.

A suspicious feeling ran through me, and I reached for my cell phone, dialing the rental office.

I suffered through the wait time, knowing that Peter was waiting for me in the car, but this was something I had to deal with now.

I suspected that my student loans being paid off was not a glitch.

“Hello?” the nice woman on the phone asked.

“Hello, my rent is due, and I wanted to pay it,” I told them, politely.

“No problem. Name?”

“Adelaide Hildebrand. Apartment Twelve.”Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“Uh,” the woman’s confused tone sounded through the phone. “Looks like you’ve already paid for three months upfront. You’re all set.”

“Okay, thank you.”

As I shut the phone, that feeling in my stomach tripled as I gazed out the window of my apartment. Down below, Peter was leaning against the black SUV, waiting to take me to who knows where.

Coincidence?

I think not.

There was only one person who was at the center of all of this.

“Damon,” I growled.