The Ruthless Billionaire CEO Revenge Contract

Her own mirror wall reflection was a striking contrast. Under the lights, her understated yet sophisticated silver gown embraced her little frame. The fabric shimmered. She had always felt like an outsider in this planet, an imposter attempting to fit somewhere she did not belong. Her heart raced, the beats resonating in her chest as she changed her clutch to project a composed look.

Every inch of her felt out of place as champagne flutes clinked about her. She tried to make herself invisible by flitting frantically from face to face, but she couldn't help but feel like the centre of attention. Her father's debts had brought her here; now, this golden prison was all she knew.

Then her eyes locked with him. Rylan Delacroix was standing in shadows next to the bar across the room. From a distance, his presence was magnetic, strong and directive. Though every inch of him exuded control, from his flawlessly fitting suit to the cool, calculated stare he swept over the room, his stance was comfortable. His black hair, slicked back precisely, caught the light to accentuate his keen features. Something about him made her skin tingle; his dark, penetrating gaze fastened onto hers like a predator sighting prey.

She stopped. Time itself seemed to have slowed, and the noise of the room vanished into nothing save her own heart hammering. He showed no smile. He had no need for. Unquestionably, the air was charged with exciting tension. His eyes revealed a tangible strength, the weight of his concentration far more than anything she had known.

She seemed to be walking towards him and the surroundings vanished with every stride. Her heels quietly tapping against the glossy floor, she had to work to maintain consistent breathing as she moved. She could not turn away from him even if her palms were clammy as she came towards. Until she was standing before him, unable to escape the intensity of his look, the distance between them appeared to narrow.

Rylan drew a step forward without saying, his dark eyes never leaving hers. Her senses were overwhelmed as their distance closed and she felt his presence invading her personal space.

With a smooth, under control edge of authority that left no room for debate, Rylan Delacroix's voice sliced through the tension like a scalpel. "Amaya Donovan," he remarked with a nearly contemptuous tone. "I know a lot about you." Her skin pricked as his lips curved into a thin, hungry smile.

Amaya kept her cool while her pulse flew. She graced a nice but stiff smile. Her speech serene but inwardly she felt everything but. "I didn't think you'd notice someone like me," she said.

His eyes swept her from head to toe, evaluating her like a piece of art, or maybe a pawn in a game he had already mastered. "You're hard to miss," he muttered. His eyes stayed fixed, and Amaya felt as though he saw right through her, the nerves, the pain, the weight of her father's obligations propelling her into this precise moment.

Amaya started to say something, but the words escaped her tongue. The room seemed too little; his presence too strong. Feeling awkward amid the sea of polished professionals, she moved her weight from one foot to the other. Standing so naturally in his position, this man made her feel as though she was merely passing through, a shadow in a world designed for people with money and power.

"I'm guessing you're not here for the champagne," Rylan said, his voice low but firm and his eyes never leaving hers. "Your father's debts bring you here. That is correct, Amaya? His comments landed with a sharpness that made her spine quiver. Though she had never told him a word, it was as if he knew precisely why she was here, exactly what she was running from.

Her pulse skipped a beat. She ought to have realised that her presence here would not go unreported. But it became all the more real hearing the hard reality emerge from his mouth.

Amaya remarked, her voice just a whisper: "You've got it wrong." "He's the reason I'm not here. I'm here since I had little option.

Rylan laughed gently, the sound dark and knowing. "Amaya, everyone of us has options. Sometimes we simply find the ones we must produce unacceptable.

Amaya battled to remain calm as she met his eyes. And what advice would you have for me right now, Mr. Delacroix? Should I request charity? The remarks were sharp, more cutting than she had meant. Every pulse of her heart squeezed her chest.

His eyes shone with something unreadable, a spark of entertainment. "I doubt you will have to plead. One way or another you will pay the cost at last.

Rylan's lips turned to a smile, one more of calculation than of compassion. She felt small because of the kind of smile that implied he knew something she did not. He moved nearer, bridging the distance between them, and Amaya felt heat rising inside her from the proximity as well as from his disturbing power.

"You, Amaya," he whispered in a low drawl. "Simple is what I want." I want you to know the circumstances you find yourself in. There is cost associated with your father's debts. And now is the moment for your payment.

Her skin warmed from his breath, and his words sank right down into her chest. Amaya felt her heart thunder in her throat. She was mute and immobile. She thought of a deer caught in the headlights of a car poised to crush her under its weight.

"Your father is not the only one who has made mistakes," Rylan said. Amaya, you would pay for them as well. Whether or whether you want to.

She tried to talk once more, but the weight of his presence sucked the words back up. He drew in closer, his lips nearly brushing her ear, his voice lowering to a whisper that chilled her spine.

"Now, I think it's time you understood just how much you'll have to pay."

His smile had disappeared to be replaced by something colder, darker. The kind of smile that seemed to be a quiet promise of suffering.

With a quiet but sharp voice and each word deliberate, "You're not as safe as you think, Amaya," he added. She stiffened automatically as the words struck her like a punch to the gut. Not sure whether it was from the cold air of his presence or the dread building in her chest, she gently retreated. Trying to ground herself, she hardly covered the quiver in her hands with fingers gripping the border of her gown.

Dark and deliberate, his eyes never left hers, as if he could see through the walls she so painstakingly created around herself. His eyes were fixed, the weight of which nearly caused her to lose almost all sense of breathing.

Rylan went on, "You don't know what I'm capable of," his lips twisting in that tight, unreadable smile. There was not friendliness, warmth, or flirtation there. Just regulation. It was abundantly evident that the authority he possessed covered every soul that dared to cross him, not only over his dominion. "Amaya, your father's debt is the starting point. Like him, you will pay the cost.

Her heart accelerated; the words hung between them like a challenge. She could never get rid of her father's obligations, but now Rylan was implying she paid some sort of contribution. Her ideas whirled around, each more desperate than the last. From her, what did he hope for? Real game was what he was playing? Her words stopped in her throat the instant she inhaled to talk.

"Does this relate to my father's legacy?" Amaya managed, her voice a whisper over the gala's clamour, scarcely what it had been before.

Rylan's eyes flicked for a moment, a flash of something, maybe contentment, maybe just an unsaid hunger. "Everything, Amaya. You'll see soon enough. He moved in closer, the distance between them closing so she could not breathe without feeling his presence smothering in on her.

The dynamic changed. Now the air seemed thicker, coil of strain in her chest stifling her. Was he just talking the truth, or was he threatening her? She had no idea.

His voice dropped to a near whisper as he moved another step towards her, "I always get what I want, Amaya. Out soon enough, you will find.

Amaya forced her way through the throng while her head whirled. She had never felt so unfit in her life. These people, this planet, all seemed so far apart from the reality she knew. Rylan seemed to be living in someone else's fantasy, the opulence, the power, the hush accompanying her presence.

A far-off section of her tried to remain calm, but brick by brick the barriers she had up to keep herself from collapsing. Rylan's threat tore at her gut, making her sick.

She couldn breathe once more just when she got to the balcony. Her hands clutching the chilly stone, she leaned against the railing as the cool night air brushed her skin. Under her, the city opened out in a sea of lights, a place so far off from her own agony.

Her eyes then fixed him once more.

Her father watched the gathering from the brink of the ballroom, his face taut with concern. Amaya watched the flutter of dread in his eyes when their gazes locked. Though he didn't approach her right away, his stare at her suggested something urgent, something she couldn't overlook.

Her heart thumped fiercely in her chest as she saw him approach her with deliberate rapid movements. Amaya looked away from the railing, unable to meet him without bearing the weight of all that had gone wrong. Her father had been a rock of strength, but she could now see he too was terrified. Fearful of the debt ruining their life and of the man she had just met.

"Amaya," her father replied, his voice low and urgent. Reaching her side, his hand rested on her shoulder to guide her farther from the throng. "You ought to go. Here tonight, it is not safe.

Amaya's stomach turned. She had never heard anything like the fear in her father's voice.

Her voice wobbly, she asked, "What's going on, Father?" "What would you mean?" Whatever is happening?

Her father's gaze flicked about tensely. "It is not only Rylan, Amaya. More is involved here than you might first think. We must leave before it is too late; you are in danger.

Her breath seized her throat. Her father's hold on her arm tightened and he drew her closer before she could utter another question. Her mind flew to piece everything together.

"Come with me now," he encouraged, his voice low yet firm. "I want you not participating in this any more. You have no idea what you are opposing here.