My contract love story

Bleary-eyed and throbbing with pain, Ashleigh finally cracked open her eyelids. The day was already bright, the morning long gone. Lifting a hand to her head proved a monumental task, met with a fresh wave of nausea. A groan escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, but the sound was cut short by the approaching footsteps.

“Footsteps?” she thought, bewildered. Room service wouldn’t enter a locked room, so who could it be? Her questions were answered abruptly by a familiar voice.

“Mrs. Ashleigh, you’re awake! Chef Larry whipped up a special concoction for hangovers,” chirped Susan, causing Ashleigh to snap her eyes open in a jolt, disregarding the spike of pain that accompanied the movement.

Panic washed over her as she took in her surroundings. She was back in the mansion, specifically her room. Her mind reeled. Noticing the shock etched on Susan’s face, she squinted and croaked,

“I… I was brought back?”

“Yes, the boss brought you home early this morning. He instructed that you shouldn’t be disturbed after he placed you in bed,” Susan explained, holding out a tray with a steaming mug.

Ashleigh’s heart plummeted. How had he found her? She’d been so careful to cover her tracks.

Accepting the mug from a hesitant Susan, she sipped the tea, her mind a whirlwind of frantic thoughts. Her eyes darted to the nightstand where two phones lay neatly side-by-side. A gasp escaped her as she choked on the liquid.

“Mrs. Ashleigh, are you alright?” Susan inquired, alarmed by the sudden fit.

Ashleigh waved a hand dismissively, the answer to her unspoken question hanging heavy in the air.

“Who put these here?” she managed, already knowing the answer.

“The boss,” Susan reiterated, bewildered by her Madame’s error.

The previous Monday, after transferring the money to Fiona, Ashleigh had taken a calculated risk. Aware that using Adrian’s phone would expose her plans, she’d dragged James and Fiona to a phone store, purchasing an identical replica. Now, the sight of the two phones side-by-side confirmed her worst mistake in her haste to leave the hotel, she’d grabbed the wrong phone.

“Is something wrong, Madame?” Susan asked gently, concerned by the dramatic shift in Ashleigh’s mood.

With a wave of dismissal, Ashleigh mumbled, “It’s fine. Please go and prepare the bath.”

Susan scurried away to fulfill the request, leaving Ashleigh alone with a heart pounding a frantic tattoo against her ribs. Dread coiled in her stomach as she envisioned the coming confrontation with Adrian.

Mentally, she rehearsed her defense: the lack of communication regarding her college admission a situation that had stressed her to the point of illness justified her need for a break. Yet, as the day wore on, there was no sign of him, no call, no booming presence in the mansion.

By late afternoon, curiosity trumped apprehension. Ashleigh descended the stairs, encountering Mr. Atkinson on her way.

“Good day, Mr. Atkinson,” she greeted, her voice slightly strained.

“It’s been a while.”

He offered a curt nod in return.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Cagliari. I trust Chef Larry’s hangover cure provided some relief? If not, I can readily fetch some medication.”

Embarrassment colored Ashleigh’s cheeks as she declined the offer.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Thank you, but I’m managing. I hope my absence hasn’t caused too much disruption; I simply needed a break,” she apologized, her voice laced with trepidation.

Sensing a deeper meaning behind his words, Ashleigh pressed on.

“Mr. Atkinson, please speak freely. You seem to have something on your mind.”

He hesitated for a moment before responding.

“If I may be frank, Mr. Cagliari’s search for you on Monday night was… concerning. His temper flared upon learning of your absence, which unfortunately spilled over onto the staff. I speak not for myself, but for Susan, who nearly faced termination. Madame, I believe a less… drastic approach to voicing your grievances might be more… productive.”

Shame washed over Ashleigh, her cheeks burning.

“Thank you, Mr. Atkinson,” she mumbled, quickly maneuvering past him.

His words hit a nerve. In her self-absorption, she hadn’t considered the ripple effect of her actions.

Hadn’t she thought to ask Susan about her well-being after the sudden disappearance? Perhaps that’s why Adrian hadn’t spoken to her unlike him to remain silent after a disagreement, even if it meant an explosive argument.

Lost in thought, Ashleigh wandered into the kitchen, nearly colliding with a hard surface. Chef Larry’s swift hand on her arm steadied her back to reality.

“My apologies, Chef Larry,” she stammered, accepting his guidance towards a bar stool. “I was lost in thought.”

“Just recovered from a hangover, are we?” he teased gently, guiding her to a barstool.

“Best to rest your mind and avoid any unnecessary headaches.”

Ashleigh sank onto the stool, a sense of unease settling in her gut.

“I’m afraid my mind won’t be easily rested,” she confessed.

“It seems I may have been a bit… careless in leaving without a proper word.”

“Hmm. Surprising? Yes. Careless? Not necessarily,” Chef Larry stated, meeting Ashleigh’s gaze.

“I don’t know the details behind your trip, but I wouldn’t dismiss it as carelessness.”

A flicker of hope sparked in Ashleigh’s eyes.

“I just needed a mental break after learning Robin College closed admissions. Unfortunately, it seems Adrian didn’t take it well. He almost fired Susan.”

“It was chaotic,” Chef Larry chuckled, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

“Mr. Cagliari was very hard on Susan, Mr. Atkinson, and even his secretary. The poor lad was terrified.”

Ashleigh winced. “It’s not funny, but I understand why it might seem that way. A break was necessary, but leaving without telling him…” Her voice trailed off, and Chef Larry noticed the shift in her posture.

“You take these trips often, don’t you?” he inquired gently.

“Why the change this time?”

Ashleigh hesitated, her gaze flickering away.

“Yes, I usually do, but this time… I didn’t tell him.”

A slow smile spread across Chef Larry’s face.

“Then perhaps Mr. Cagliari shouldn’t be so offended. Your need for a break is valid.”

Ashleigh offered a hesitant smile in return. “If only it were that simple.”

She thought to herself.

“I’ll get lunch started,” Chef Larry said, rising. As he left, Ashleigh was left alone with her churning thoughts.

She decided to wait for Adrian’s return, hoping to explain her actions calmly. But the weekend passed with no sign of him, and Mr. Atkinson remained tight-lipped.

Monday arrived, and Ashleigh approached the company with a knot of dread in her stomach.

The atmosphere was thick with tension. People scurried around, their usual chatter replaced by a nervous silence. Reaching her department, she found her colleagues huddled together, hushed whispers hanging in the air.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, her voice sharp with worry. Her colleagues exchanged a look, and one spoke up, his voice tight.

“Mr. Cagliari is back. He’s started a staff audit. Everyone who was absent last week is in hot water. James and Fiona… they’re going to be fired.”