Chapter 139: Signed The Contract
Oliver’s POV
I walked back into the kitchen, the air still smelling like the breakfast she had barely touched. I watched her, looking for a sign—a twitch of guilt, a slip of the tongue, anything that said she was second-guessing her choice.
"Are you done eating?" I asked, my voice sounding hollow to my ears.
Aurora stood up, offering me a small, tight smile. "Yes, and I should probably get going, Oliver. I want to pay a visit to my brother at the hospital, and from there, I think I’ll stop at the salon. I need a little bit of a ’me’ day."
The lie was so smooth, so effortless, it made my skin crawl.
"Let me join you," I said, stepping closer, my eyes searching hers for any sign of guilt... but I saw nothing. "I can clear my schedule. We can see James together, and then I’ll accompany you to the salon... we can spend all day together."
"No!" she said, a little too quickly. She caught herself and softened her tone. "No, you’re the King, Oliver. You have so much on your plate with the council. I don’t want to bother you with hospital runs and salon appointments. I’ll be fine on my own."
I nodded slowly, the pain in my chest tightening. I knew exactly where she was going, and it wasn’t to get her hair done.
"I understand," I whispered.
She stood on her tiptoes, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my lips. It was a kiss that should have tasted like love, but to me, it tasted like betrayal. "I’ll see you later tonight," she murmured.
"I love you, Aurora," I said, my voice thick.
"I love you, too," she replied with a smile before rushing off to the bedroom to change.
I sat down at the table, staring at her cold plate. I couldn’t eat. My stomach was in knots. A few minutes later, I heard the front door close and the roar of the engine as she drove out. I walked to the balcony, watching the car disappear down the long driveway.
As soon as she was out of sight, my composure shattered. I let out a painful breath, turned back into the room, and locked the door.
I walked into the bathroom and pulled the supplies from the hidden cabinet. I dyed my hair back to a deep, midnight black, masking my red strands. I took the cleanser and wiped away the heavy concealer on my wrist, revealing the dark, intricate tattoos that marked me as Raymond. Finally, I leaned into the mirror and popped in the piercing green contacts.
The man staring back at me wasn’t Oliver. He was now Raymond.
"How long can I keep doing this?" I whispered to my reflection. My wolf didn’t answer; he was too busy fuming at me.
I dressed in my heavy leather jacket, pulled on my gloves, and grabbed my helmet. I didn’t take the car. I took the bike, weaving through traffic with a reckless speed that matched the chaos in my mind.
I reached the club within twenty minutes. It was late morning, and the main floor was mostly empty, save for a few staff members prepping for the night shift. few Doms nodded to me as I passed—a few knew the truth of my identity, but all of them knew better than to speak my name.
I reached my private room and slammed the door behind me. I sat on the leather couch, the darkness of the room swallowing me whole. I pulled the contract from the table and stared at the empty space where her signature would soon be.
I waited. Every minute felt like an hour. I checked my watch, my jaw clenched, my frown deepening.
Then, I heard it. The soft click of heels in the hallway. The door pushed open, and there she was. My innocent Aurora, standing in the lion’s den, holding the documents that would end her freedom.
I didn’t look up. I let the silence brew until it was thick enough to choke on.
"You’re late, Pet," I said, the voice of Raymond taking its place.
Aurora frowned, her brows knitting together in a way that usually made me want to pull her into my arms and smooth the worry away. But I wasn’t Oliver right now. I was the man in the mask, the man she had chosen to come to despite the King waiting for her at home with a breakfast I had cooked with my own hands.
I didn’t move an inch. I stayed on the couch, watching her struggle with the silence. Part of me—the part that still wore Oliver’s heart—was screaming for her to turn around. Run, Aurora. Tear the papers up. Tell me to go to hell and go back to the man who loves you.
But she didn’t run. She stood her ground in the middle of the room.
"Take a seat," I commanded, my voice authoritative.
She moved slowly, sitting in the chair across from me. Her movements were stiff, her eyes darting around the dim room as if looking for an exit she had already decided not to use.
"You’ve gone through it?" I asked, gesturing to the folder.
"I have," she said. Her voice was thin, but there was a spark of that stubbornness I loved. Or used to love.
"And?"
"I’m ready."
The words felt like a physical blow to my gut. I didn’t say a word. I simply reached out and stretched a black pen toward her. As she reached for it, her fingers brushed against my gloved hand. Even through the leather, I felt the spark. I wondered if she felt it too—the familiar heat of the man who held her this morning.
She took the pen and leaned over the table. I watched, my heart breaking into a million jagged pieces, as she pressed the tip to the paper. She signed it. She actually signed it. The ink was wet, a black stain on her innocence, and just like that, the woman I wanted to make my queen became my property.
I leaned back, nodding as if I were just a businessman closing a deal. I had to act normal. I had to play the part, even if I felt like dying.
"Remember when we first met months ago?" I asked, my voice dropping into a mocking tone.
She said nothing, just stared at the signed contract between us.
"Right here in this club," I continued, a cruel smile spreading across my face behind the mask. "I told you then that I would have you as my sub. You looked me in the eye and said ’never.’ I told you back then that everything has a price, Aurora. I just needed to find yours."
I let out a short, bitter laugh. "And it seems your price is my cock. The moment you tasted me, you couldn’t stay away. How cheap of you. You’d betray a King just for the way a monster fucks you."
She didn’t flinch. She didn’t get angry or scream that I was wrong. She just sat there, accepting the insult, which only made the fire in my blood burn hotter. It pained me to speak to her this way, to spit on the love we were supposed to have, but the rage was winning. If she wanted the "filthy" Raymond, I was going to give him to her.
"Get on your feet," I barked.
She stood up, her breath hitching.
"Strip," I ordered, my eyes raking over her body. "Everything."
I watched her fingers tremble as she reached for the zipper of her dress. One by one, her clothes hit the floor until she stood naked before me, shivering in the cool air of the room. I didn’t give her a second to feel shy.
"Get on the bed," I said, pointing to the large bed in the corner of the suite. "Spread your legs. Wide."