Contract Marriage With My Billionaire Boss novel Chapter 2

VENUS

“Marry me.”

My brain short-circuited.

“W-what?” I blinked, pushing up my oversized glasses—scratched, crooked, and clinging to life like my sanity. His eyes tracked the motion, brimming with disdain. Typical.

“You heard me,” he replied coolly, like he’d just asked for a meeting reschedule, not proposed marriage to the woman he’s treated like corporate lint for two months straight.

God, I loathe this man.

“What, is this some new psychological warfare tactic?” I folded my arms. “Because the emotional labor you’ve inflicted isn’t quite enough?”

“Marry me and I—”

“No.” My voice cut through the tension like a blade. Sharp. Final.

He blinked. Just once. But I saw it—surprise. As if the idea of being turned down had never occurred to him.

“No?” he echoed, mildly offended.

Didn't think I'd ever speak back, did you?

“Want it in Spanish? French? Morse code?”

“You haven’t even heard my offer.”

“I don’t want your offer.” My voice rose. “I’m not interested in whatever twisted bargain you’ve cooked up in that emotionally unavailable brain of yours.”

He leaned back in his chair, lips twitching. Not quite a smirk, something colder.

“One million dollars.”

Silence.

My heart stuttered. He's crazy. I was genuinely concerned now, Did he hit his head or something?

“A million?” I asked, incredulous. “You think throwing money at me will fix the months you’ve spent micromanaging me into oblivion? You’ve treated me like disposable help, now suddenly I’m bride material?”

“You’ll have time to consider,” he said evenly. Calm. Measured. Calculating. Like he hadn’t just upended my world.

I scoffed and slammed a folder on his desk. “Here’s the report you asked for. And no, I’m not for sale. You’re not the devil in disguise, Sinclair. You are the disguise.”

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