Chapter 2 The morning After

The morning after

Gordon had barely stepped out of the room when his phone rang.

He pulled it out, already regretting answering.

"What now?" he said flatly.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine." Ryan's voice came through, full of his usual sarcasm. "I just landed. Where are you? We have a meeting in an hour."

Gordon sighed. "Something came up."

A pause. Then Ryan's voice sharpened. "Wait... did you just say 'something came up'? You? Mr. Schedule-Everything-to-Death? What's going on?"

Before Gordon could answer, the doorbell rang.

He frowned. Who the hell?

When he opened the door, a petite woman with bright red lipstick stood there, arms crossed like she was ready for battle.

"Where is she?" Naomi demanded, pushing past him.

Gordon blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Claire," Naomi said, scanning the apartment. "She didn't pick up my calls, and I tracked her phone here."

Gordon's brows lifted. "You tracked her phone?"

Naomi waved him off. "Oh, don't act all shocked, billionaire boy. Where is she?"

Before he could respond, Ryan's voice came from the phone still in his hand.

"Who's that? And why does she sound like she's about to murder you?"

Gordon exhaled slowly. "Long story."

Naomi wasn't waiting for an invitation. "Claire! Claire!" she shouted, pacing around. "Where is she?"

Gordon simply looked upstairs.

She didn't wait for permission just marched up, throwing open doors like she owned the place.

It didn't take long to find Claire, still knocked out on the bed.

Naomi groaned, hands on her hips. "Seriously? I knew she was drinking, but damn."

Gordon leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "If you're done barging into my house, I have work to do."

Naomi raised an eyebrow. "And I have questions."

Downstairs

Ethan stepped inside quietly, clutching his tablet like it was a shield.

He had heard the commotion from the hallway and, knowing Gordon, figured it was safer to sit, observe, and pretend he wasn't there.

So, he quietly lowered himself onto the couch, fingers tapping nervously against the tablet.

He wasn't about to involve himself in whatever this was.

Then another buzz.

It was Ryan,I'm here Open the damn door.

Gordon quickly went downstairs forgetting Ethan was there to open the door.

Gordon sighed, unlocking it.

Ryan Carter strode in, sharp suit, sharp eyes, and zero patience for nonsense.

He barely stepped inside before raising a brow. "You look like hell."

Gordon shut the door. "Thanks."

Before Ryan could grill him further, a voice boomed from upstairs.

"I don't care if he's a billionaire! I'll slap the arrogance out of him if he tries anything funny!"

Ryan's brows shot up. "What the hell was that? You got a girlfriend now? Wow."

Gordon rubbed his temples. "Shut up. That's Claire's friend."

Ryan smirked. "Who's Claire? And wait, you mean to tell me someone is finally putting you in your place?"

Before Gordon could respond, another loud thud echoed from upstairs.

Ryan glanced at the ceiling like he expected it to collapse. "And Claire is...?"

"Still drunk. Sleeping."

Ryan let out a low whistle. "Damn. You really picked up a whole human disaster, huh?"

Upstairs

Naomi stood over Claire, arms crossed. "I swear, Claire, if you got yourself into some billionaire nonsense, I'm going to scream."

Claire groaned, pulling the covers over her head. "Shhh... Heaven is loud."

Naomi rolled her eyes. "You're in Gordon Wright's house, you idiot."

Claire peeked out. "Oh." Pause. "Wait. Who is he?"

Naomi sighed dramatically. "you don't know Gordon Wright. Billionaire. CEO. Probably the kind of guy who schedules his bathroom breaks."

Claire blinked. Her head was pounding.

She suddenly sat up, eyes wide.

"Wait. Did I sleep with him?!"

Naomi's face twisted in disgust. "Ew. No. You just embarrassed yourself in a bar, got picked up by Mr. Rich and Broody, and vomited on him. Congratulations."

Claire groaned and flopped back onto the pillows. "Kill me."

"Oh, trust me, if you don't explain why your phone led me here, I just might." Naomi crossed her arms. "And what's this about you owing dangerous people money?"

Claire squeezed her eyes shut. "It's a long story."

Naomi huffed. "I have time."

Downstairs

Gordon sat on the couch, rubbing his temples.

Ryan leaned back, way too entertained.

"So... let me get this straight. You found a drunk woman in a bar, recognized her, and instead of dropping her at a hotel, you brought her here?"

Gordon shot him a glare. "She passed out before I could ask where she lived."

Ryan smirked. "Right. And this has nothing to do with the fact that she's your enemy's daughter?"

Gordon's jaw tightened. "She doesn't remember me."

Ryan's smirk widened. "Ouch. That must sting."

Gordon ignored him. His mind was already working through something else.

Claire was in trouble. Real trouble.

He saw an opportunity.

He needed a wife.

And Claire was perfect for the role.

He stood up, adjusting his cufflinks. "I'm going to make her an offer she can't refuse."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what exactly are you planning?"

Gordon smirked. "A contract marriage."

Ryan whistled. "Damn. That's cold even for you."

Gordon ignored him and strode upstairs.

Claire had just thrown on a fresh shirt when he knocked once before stepping inside.

She looked up, still groggy. "What now?"

Gordon leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "We need to talk."

Claire frowned. "About what?"

His lips curled into a smirk.

"Your life is a mess, and I have a proposition."

Claire's stomach twisted. "What kind of proposition?"

Gordon's voice was smooth, deliberate.

"Marriage."

The room fell dead silent.

Naomi blinked. "Oh, hell no."

Claire just stared. "Come again?"

Gordon slipped his hands into his pockets. "You need money. I need a wife. It's simple."

Claire let out a sharp laugh. "Yeah, no. I think I would rather take my chances with the loan sharks."

Gordon smirked. "Funny. Because either way, your life won't be yours anymore."

Claire's stomach twisted.

She had no idea what kind of game Gordon was playing, but one thing was clear

This was only the beginning.