The Contract With Her Father's Billionaire Rival

"Miss R.J. said she wouldn't work with… us unless you… step down as CEO."

Alaric lifted his head from his desk and looked at his secretary. "What?"

Stelle's eyes widened and she swallowed before speaking again. "Miss R.J. doesn't want… to work with us."

Alaric tapped the table and Stelle flinched. "What the hell? Why?"

He already knew the answer to that, which was why he was angry. He dismissed Stelle with a wave of his hand and watched as she ran outside.

Alaric clenched his jaw, steadying his breath. Anger was easy to handle—it was familiar. But fear?—fear of seclusion, fear of failure. That was something else entirely.

Alaric sighed as he shut his laptop, his mind racing. How was he going to solve this problem?

He had been away from New Orleans for six years after an unpleasant incident. And here he was, thinking that was enough time for everyone to forget, for everyone to move on, for him to continue his life in his hometown.

Apparently even returning home as a billionaire wouldn't solve that problem.

His phone rang, and he reached for it. His mother was on the line.

"Hello, Mother," he said.

"Alaric. I heard another artist refused to work with you," Clara Allens said, getting straight to the point.

He groaned. "How did you find out?"

"There's nothing I don't know about that company, dear," Clara said, her voice filled with pride. "What are you going to do? You can't keep losing clients your father worked so hard to secure."

He stood up, the truth stirring unpleasantly in his stomach. "I am working on it."

"How?" Clara asked. "You've only been CEO for 24 hours, and we have already lost two clients. If your father finds out about this, I'm afraid it might kill him before his sickness does."

Alaric paced in his new office, his head racing with thoughts.

"Alaric? Are you there?" Clara asked.

"Yes, mother," he replied quickly, realizing he had zoned out of the conversation.

"I said maybe now is not the best time to return. Maybe you should go back and spend some time away?"

Alaric's heart fluttered at his mother's suggestion. "Absolutely not, mother. I have been gone for six years, I can't keep running from something I didn't do."

"But people don't believe you," Clara said, and he could tell she was frowning. "That's why the women are running away from you, they are afraid of you."

"Well, I don't care," he replied stubbornly. "I am here to change the narrative and I will."

His door opened, and Richard, his best friend and cousin, walked in.

"It's not looking easy," Clara argued. "Just think about—"

"Sure, I will," he interrupted her, his anger mounting his fear. "Let me call you later," he said and ended the call before she had more to say.

Richard pulled out a chair. "Was that aunt Clara?"

"Yeah," Alaric replied, his forehead creased into a frown. "I can't believe she wants me to go back, to leave all this and just run."

"She's only looking out for her only child. The media were really brutal to you," Richard said, softly.

"That was six years ago, I've changed." Alaric said firmly.

Anger stirred his chest. Six years ago, he had been accused of assaulting a woman. The media had ruined him, his name had been dragged through hell. He had been drunk that night, but not that drunk to have overpowered a sober woman.

Nobody listened. Nobody believed him. Not even his parents, so he was wheeled out of New Orleans to protect the family name.

Six years in Australia had been great. He had established his own media empire and became a billionaire. And now, he was back to inherit the family business, since his stubborn father had finally admitted that the sickness was making him weak.

Thinking about it now filled his heart with pain, but he shoved it away. He was no longer that timid boy. He had confronted his pain and transformed himself.

Now, he was feared. He was respected. He was the CEO of his company—and now, the CEO of his father's company. He could do anything, and he would.

"Did you hear about R.J?" Richard asked, crossing his legs.

"Yes," Alaric replied, his fear returning. "Stelle told me."

"Apparently, she's now working with Ronald Voss too," Richard said. "I'm sure it only took him telling her about your fake past before she realized she wasn't safe."

Alaric clenched his fist, his mouth twisting. "I can't let Father lose his clients to a less competent rival."

He knew how irrelevant Ronald Voss was. He remembered his father always laughing at the man's poor attempt to compete. He can't let Ronald win—Julius would be disgusted.

"Then we need to find a solution quickly," Richard said.

"What will it be?" Alaric asked, racking his brain. "We can't—"

He was interrupted by the knock on his door. "Come in."

Stelle entered, averting her eyes. "You have a visitor, sir."

Alaric raised a brow. "A visitor?"

"Who could that be?" Richard asked.

"Miss Nicolette Voss. She says she wants to see you," Stelle said.

"What?" Richard gasped, straightening up. "What does she want?"

Alaric had no idea, but he was curious. What was Nicolette Voss doing here? Before he could stop himself, he said to Stelle. "Send her in."

Richard turned to him, surprise etched on his face. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I don't know," Alaric admitted, "but I am curious."

Richard nodded as he stood up, "Scream if you need help."

Alaric laughed. Richard was the only one who challenged, yet he always supported him. "I will."

As Richard left the room, Nicolette Voss dressed in a blue gown walked in. His eyes immediately went to her exposed chest, but he composed himself as she stepped forward.

"I am here to see Julius Allens," she said directly.

Alaric frowned at her bluntness. "Good afternoon, Miss Voss."

She didn't even look surprised that he knew her name. "Good afternoon. Please where is he?"

He was offended by her dismissal. Nobody dismissed him. Yet, he had this uncontrollable urge to satisfy her. "If you'll take a seat, please," he said, gesturing to the seat.

She looked at him, with the most gorgeous brown eyes he had ever seen, and his heart fluttered.

Nobody had ever stared directly into his eyes like this before.

"So?" she asked as she sat down.

He cleared his throat. "Julius Allens is not available at the moment, but I can help you with—"

"No," she said, rising to her feet. "Tell Mr Allens that I need to see him. It's important."

Her lips pressed in determination, and he was both intrigued and annoyed by her guts. Who the hell did she think she was making demands like this?

No one dared to speak to him like this. Yet, here she stood, unmoved by the annoyance in his eyes.

"Well," he said, leaning back, observing her with curiosity. "You're looking at Mr Allens, sweetheart."

She blinked. "No. Mr Jul—"

"Alaric. His son and the new CEO," he smirked when he saw the surprise in her eyes.

Her cheeks flushed as she took a step back. "Oh I'm sorry. I didn't know…"

Her apology melted something inside him. Alaric looked away, his heart tugging with emotions.

What was wrong with him today? He probably was just nervous.

She leaned forward. "Well, Mr Allens. I think you can help me too."

"Okay…" he breathed, forcing himself to look at her face and not her chest.

"I know how the… rivalry works," she swallowed. "And I'm ready to pick this side."

Confusion rose inside him. "I don't understand."

She sighed, her cheeks turning red. "I need your help with my business."

"What sort of help?"

She bit her lip. "Financial help."

Alaric's eyes narrowed. "Like a deal?"

"Yes," she said.

Alaric leaned forward. He liked where this was going. "And what is in it for me?"

Her forehead creased. "I'll pick you over my dad."

"Just that? After I give you money?"

Her cheeks colored and he could tell she hadn't thought her plan through.

"We… I…" she stuttered.

Alaric chuckled, enjoying her discomfort. She had walked in here with no plan—rookie moves.

She was either foolish or brave. And yet he found her interesting.

Then, it hit him! He could use her to fix his problem. If the world knew he had a woman, they would finally leave him alone—everything would go back to normal.

Yes.

Plus she was Ronald Voss's daughter. What better way to ruin a rival than to keep his daughter close?

Alaric leaned back, studying her. "Well, I have a proposition."

He watched her stiffened. "What?"

"I'll help you, but only if you marry me."