A contract And Passion: My Sweet Wife
Victoria Figueiredo · Ongoing · 287.1k Words
Introduction
But the price to bring the king out of exile is higher than she could have imagined. Nicholas doesn't want money. He wants her. The condition for saving Sara's life is a pact sealed at the registry office: Caroline must become his wife.
Forced into a marriage with a man who is a complete stranger, Caroline is swept into a world of unimaginable power and luxury. However, her new husband is an enigma. Cold, possessive, and with a dangerous temper, he hides dark secrets, including a strange condition that makes him averse to the touch of any woman—except her.
As she struggles to navigate this dangerous game of submission and desire, her past returns to haunt her. Is this marriage her salvation or a gilded prison? And what will happen when the man who bought her life discovers that she may be the only cure for the darkness that consumes him?
Chapter 1
“Edward, I'm pregnant.”
Claire's words echoed like thunder.
Caroline's eyes widened. Her body went cold, her fingers trembled, as if the strength had suddenly been ripped from her.
“What?!” Edward's voice exploded in the silence, stunned.
But Claire didn't back down. On the contrary, her lips curved into a sweet smile—too sweet. She threw herself back into his arms and repeated, louder, almost shouting for the whole world to hear:
“I'm expecting your child, Edward! Our child!”
Caroline bit her lip until she tasted the metallic taste of blood.
Her heart was beating so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of her mouth.
No... this can't be happening...
Edward lowered his head, trying to digest the news. “When...? How...?”
“A month ago.” Claire looked up, staring at him with feigned tenderness. "That time... remember? When my sister went to a photo shoot? At the window of your house..."
Caroline felt the ground disappear beneath her feet.
The bay window.
Her favorite place.
The place where she lay down to read, dream, smile... And that was where they...
Her stomach churned, and tears blurred her vision.
Claire then slowly looked away from Edward and fixed her eyes exactly where Caroline was hiding.
A calculated look.
A smile of victory.
“It was that day.”
Caroline put her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob.
She knew I was here... she wanted me to hear!
Her chest burned.
Every breath was like a knife.
When Edward, still in shock, put his arm around Claire's waist and they began to approach, Caroline couldn't take it anymore.
She ran.
The lights in the hallway blinded her. The sound of her heels echoed like desperate footsteps.
The alcohol mixed with panic made everything blurry.
I need to get out of here... I need to disappear...
Suddenly, she bumped into someone. The impact almost knocked her over.
“It's her.” A man's deep voice sounded cold.
Two strong hands grabbed her by the arms.
“Let me go! You're wrong!” Caroline screamed, trying to break free, but the men were too strong.
Despair took over, tears running down her face.
“Let me go! Please!”
But no one listened.
The world went black.
At the Presidential Collinsite...
Nicholas Wolf entered with firm steps, exuding power. Every gesture was authoritative, calculated, almost cruel.
When the door locked behind him, he frowned.
He answered his cell phone. “What kind of joke is this, Hiago?”
“Relax, brother.” The cheeky voice on the other end seemed amused. “This time I chose well. A woman who will make you forget the world.”
Nicholas clenched his jaw. “Open this door now.”
“No. Enjoy the gift.” Click.
Nicholas lowered the phone, his eyes flashing with anger.
That's when he heard it.
The sound of water.
A soft, innocent song.
He walked to the bathroom door. He pushed it open.
The steam escaped like a curtain.
And there she was.
Caroline.
Wet, vulnerable, too beautiful to be real. Her eyes sparkled even through her dry tears, as if they held a thousand galaxies.
Nicholas stood silent.
His heart—accustomed to iron and ice—faltered.
Who is this woman?
She was truly beautiful. Beautiful enough to take any man's breath away.
But to him, it meant nothing. Not even the most beautiful of women could pique his interest.
Nicholas Wolf watched her for a few seconds, impassive, before issuing the order in an icy voice:
“Get out of there. You have one minute to disappear from my room.”
The woman slowly raised her eyes.
First, she frowned, as if trying to understand who he was. Then she stared at him. And silently, she reached out her hand.
He didn't move. He didn't respond.
Suddenly, her fingers closed around his pants.
Nicholas froze. His muscles immediately tensed.
Normally, at this point, nausea would set in. Or the uncontrollable itching of his skin, which made him lose his mind.
But... nothing happened.
What do you mean?
Nicholas Wolf had the diagnosis that defined his life: Antisocial Personality Disorder.
Women were repulsive to him. Untouchable.
Except for blood ties, no one could get close to him.
Until that moment.
His gaze darkened, confused.
And then something unprecedented happened: a flash of surprise appeared in the depths of his eyes.
Before he could react, she was already standing. Her delicate arms wrapped around his neck and, on tiptoe, her lips touched his.
It was a soft kiss. But direct.
Too hot for a man who knew no warmth.
She pulled away slightly, and in her eyes there was despair, pain, pleading.
“Help me...”
The request echoed in the silence.
–
When Caroline Ford opened her eyes, she was alone.
The huge bed around her seemed to swallow her up. But the sound of water in the bathroom revealed that he was still there.
She sat up, bewildered.
Her mind went blank for a few seconds until, like a violent wave, the memories of the previous night came flooding back.
The blood drained from her face.
She turned pale.
My God... what have I done?
Frightened, Caroline jumped out of bed, ignoring the pain in her body. She dressed hurriedly, pulling on her clothes with trembling hands, and walked toward the door. I need to get out of here before he leaves...
But just as she took three steps, the bathroom door opened.
Nicholas appeared.
Wearing only a towel around his waist, with broad shoulders, a firm abdomen, and wet hair dripping down his temples.
He was the living image of a fallen god.
And he saw her.
Nicholas' gaze swept silently across the room until it settled on the messy bed—empty. A trace of confusion passed through his eyes.
He picked up his cell phone and called.
“Luan.”
On the other end, a lazy voice:
“Nick? What made you call now? Are you going to tell me you finally became human?”
Nicholas ignored the provocation. “There was a woman in my room last night.”
There was an immediate silence.
Then a cough, as if the other person had choked.
“What?! Repeat that. A woman... with you? You two...
”Mm," Nicholas replied casually.
“Damn, Nick!” Luan coughed, laughed, coughed again, incredulous. “You hate being touched. I remember once when a woman just touched your arm and you washed your hands ten times.”
Nicholas was silent. His eyes narrowed.
“She's different.”
“Different how...?”
“My body doesn't reject her touch.” His voice was firm, but there was a strange hesitation. “On the contrary... I like it when she gets close.”
Nicholas closed his eyes for a moment. Her light perfume was still impregnated on his skin.
And for the first time in years, he felt... human.
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