THE CONTRACT WIFE A ONE NIGHT STAND BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE

Antoinette and I found ourselves perched on stools in a dimly lit bar, the lively hum of music and clinking glasses filling the air. It was the ideal spot to unwind and let go of the day's stress.

As we sipped our drinks, Antoinette began chatting about men. The more the alcohol warmed my insides, the easier laughter came, and my concerns seemed to dissolve like winter frost under the spring sun. We were thoroughly enjoying our night out, but then something—or rather, someone—caught my eye.

Lucas Blackwood, the man I'd been crushing on since college, had just walked in. My heart fluttered wildly as I watched him stride in, his brooding eyes scanning the room. He looked worn out and, more noticeably, unhappy. I'd never seen him so downcast before, and I couldn't help but wonder what had happened.

"Zara, are you okay?" Antoinette's voice was a faint echo, drowned out by the rapid pounding of my heart.

"Y-yes, I'm fine," I managed to stutter out, though my voice hardly masked the rush of adrenaline.

I stole another glance at Lucas. He was now seated at the far end of the bar, a drink served but untouched in front of him. Even though I'd never managed to capture his heart, seeing him upset felt like a persistent itch, impossible to ignore.

"Zara! Look!" Antoinette exclaimed.

Antoinette's voice jolted me out of my reverie as she casually pointed out Lucas's presence. I offered a nonchalant smile, not wanting her to know I'd been observing him since his arrival.

"Now's your chance, girl. Go and talk to him. He seems to be alone," Antoinette nudged.

"No way," I retorted, well aware of Lucas's model girlfriend, Giselle. I had no intention of flirting with a man who was taken. "What about you?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Don't worry about me. Remember, this bar is my cousin's place. I won't be alone," she reassured.

The thought of approaching Lucas was daunting. It had been a while since we last saw each other, and I feared he might dismiss me with a mere flick of his hand. That would be mortifying.

"I'll be right back," I mumbled to Antoinette, my legs carrying me towards Lucas before I could second-guess myself. The alcohol had emboldened me, making me feel invincible. Without another thought, I slid onto the stool next to him.

"Zara Delafontaine? What are you doing here?" he inquired.

His use of my full name surprised me. He remembered me. "Hello, Lucas Blackwood," I replied, a grin tugging at my lips. He shifted his gaze from his drink to me.

"Please leave," he stated abruptly.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

"Just a rough day. I'm fine. I just need a drink...or more," he replied.

"Lucky for you, I'm an expert at turning bad days around," I informed him, eliciting a chuckle.

"Are you alone?" he asked after a sip of his drink.

"No, I'm with Antoinette, but she had to step out," I fibbed. As he scanned the bar, I grew nervous. When he narrowed his eyes, I resisted the urge to check where Antoinette and I had been sitting. Luckily, she was nowhere in sight. She probably went to chat with her cousin.

As the night progressed, Lucas and I engaged in deep conversation, and I found myself flirting with him unabashedly. The bar faded into the background as we got lost in our exchange. The alcohol-fueled night had taken an unexpected turn.

We talked, laughed, and with every passing moment, my heart felt more alive. Somehow, my hand found its way to his thigh. It was a subtle touch, almost unconscious. His eyes flickered, and his expression was unreadable. With that simple touch, I sensed a shift in him, and the tension between us grew palpable.

"Let's go," he said suddenly, grabbing my hand.

I hesitated as he led me towards the exit, thinking of Antoinette. But then it hit me: I might never get another chance to be with Lucas Blackwood. So, I followed him, not looking back or worrying about Antoinette.

Stepping outside the bar, Lucas led me to his car. Without questioning his intentions, I slid into the passenger seat as he held the door open for me. As he started the car, I stole a glance at his chiseled jawline, illuminated by the city lights.