Framed By Betrayal: Billionaire's Possessive Contract

Chester's arm tightened around Haylie for a fraction of a second before he let go. He reached over the edge of the sofa, his fingers closing around the vibrating phone. The screen's glare illuminated his face, hardening his features into stone.

He swiped to answer. "What."

His voice was flat, devoid of any warmth. The silence on the other end was brief.

"Sir," K.C. Woods, his assistant, sounded breathless. "We have a problem. Logan Group just revised their bid for the Meridian acquisition. They matched our bottom line to the dollar."

Chester's pupils contracted. His grip on the phone tightened until the metal casing creaked under the pressure. The tendons in his hand stood out like cords.

"It gets worse," K.C. continued, his voice tight. "Preliminary alerts flagged anomalous traffic from our internal server. Multiple data packets point to Haylie Morales's terminal. We need to run a deep analysis immediately, but the initial footprint is damning."

The air in the room dropped ten degrees. Chester turned his head slowly, his gaze landing on the woman sprawled on the sofa. The soft, satisfied look in his eyes vanished, replaced by a savage, burning fury.

He grabbed his tablet from the coffee table, unlocking it with a sharp jab of his thumb. He pulled up the security logs. The footage was grainy but clear enough. There she was, in her blue dress, slipping away from the ballroom. And there, at the edge of the frame, she brushed past a man wearing a Logan Group lapel pin. Their shoulders touched. She didn't pull away.

A red haze descended over his vision. The betrayal was a physical ache in his chest, sharp and sickening. She had sold him out. She had sold his company out. And right after she had been cozying up to the competition.

He stood up, his movements jerky. He grabbed his suit jacket from the floor and threw it on. He snatched the cashmere throw from the back of the armchair and threw it over her body, the gesture rough, aggressive.

He dialed his driver. "Back entrance. Now."

He leaned down, his hands gripping Haylie's arms. He hauled her up from the sofa, handling her like a sack of grain. He didn't bother adjusting the blanket around her. He just tucked her against his chest and strode toward the door.

He didn't look at her face. He couldn't. If he did, he might do something he couldn't take back.

The hallway was empty. He took the service elevator down, the hum of the machinery the only sound. He stepped out into the damp alleyway where the black Maybach idled.

He yanked open the rear door and dumped Haylie onto the leather seat. She slumped against the door, a crumpled mess of blue fabric and dark hair. He slid in after her, slamming the door shut.

The partition rolled up. The car pulled out into the rainy Manhattan traffic. The neon signs from the street streaked past the tinted windows, casting shifting bars of light across the interior.

The silence was suffocating. The only sound was the drumming of rain on the roof and the soft, pained whimpers coming from the woman beside him.

Haylie shifted, her brow furrowing. The drug was still working its way out of her system. A low moan escaped her lips.

Chester's jaw clenched. A cold, cruel smile twisted his mouth. He watched her squirm, remembering how she had responded to his touch just minutes ago. It made him sick. She was a fantastic actress. A perfect little liar.

He pulled the tablet toward him again. He opened a blank document, his thumbs flying over the screen. He typed out a termination agreement, the words harsh and final. Every tap of the screen echoed in the quiet car like a judge's gavel.

The Maybach glided to a stop in the underground parking garage of his penthouse. The driver opened the door, holding a large black umbrella.

Chester stepped out. He didn't wait for her. He didn't offer a hand.

"Bring her up," he ordered the bodyguard standing by the elevator. "No electronic devices. Confiscate her phone."

The bodyguard reached into the car and pulled Haylie out. She could barely stand, her legs buckling. He gripped her upper arm, practically dragging her toward the elevator.

Chester stood in the corner of the elevator, his arms crossed over his chest. He stared at the descending floor numbers, his reflection in the polished brass doors looking like a stranger-eyes wild, face hard.

He wanted to wrap his hands around her throat. He wanted to shake her until she confessed. But more than that, he wanted to erase the last hour. He wanted to take back every kiss, every touch, every whispered word.

The elevator doors opened directly into the penthouse foyer. The lights were off, the only illumination coming from the city skyline beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Chester pointed toward the front door. His voice was a blade. "Get out."

Haylie stood swaying in the middle of the marble floor. She looked around, her eyes unfocused, trying to process where she was.

He didn't give her time. He stalked toward her, his long strides eating up the distance. He grabbed her shoulders and shoved her backward. Her back hit the doorframe with a sickening thud. She gasped, pain shooting through her shoulder blade.

"Stop playing games, Haylie." He reached out, his hand clamping around her chin. He forced her face up, making her look at him. His eyes were blazing, the fury in them a living thing. "Logan's bid was exact. You sold yourself for a very good price."

Haylie's mind was a fog of pain and confusion. The words didn't make sense. Logan? Bid? She shook her head, a desperate, pleading movement.

Chester released her chin like her skin burned him. He wiped his hand on his trousers, a gesture of utter disgust. "You're fired. Effective immediately. You are no longer an employee of Steele Industrial."

He turned his back on her and hit the intercom button on the wall. "Security. Remove the corporate spy from the premises. Hand her over to Legal."

The front doors opened. Two massive men in suits stepped inside. They moved efficiently, grabbing Haylie by the arms.

"No!" she screamed, the sound tearing from her throat. "Wait! I didn't do anything!"

They ignored her. They lifted her off her feet and carried her out the door. The elevator doors closed on her terrified face, cutting off her cries.