Anything You Want

Detroit ~

Detroit West was a man who didn’t traffic in weakness. Vulnerability was a luxury he could never afford. Yet, on that night, he was vulnerable for the first time and stumbled into this resort to hide.

He didn't expect to run into her. The drug was not only a monstrous boost to his libido, it could render a man insane and totally ruined if they didn't find a solution in the next few minutes for the burning need it stirred.

Detroit clenched his jaw, fighting the surge of heat roaring through his veins. Every instinct he had told him the resort would be a remedy to his problem.

And when he did, he saw her.

He could see she wasn't like other girls, yet he demanding her body. She didn't look at him with repulsion, but with quiet understanding.

As if she saw beyond the polished surface, past the ruthless tycoon, and straight into something he worked hard to keep buried.

He didn’t like being seen.

“Adele,” her colleague called her.

He liked the name and when he called it, it sounded just right on his tongue… like, it was meant to be called by him and him only.

He was burning all over, but Detroit West could feel that it wasn't just about the drug. He liked her. She felt the same.

And then, the feel of her lips, the way she felt in his arms… It reminded him of a memory buried deep inside him. A taboo that must not be touched. And the sex didn't fall short. It was something he couldn't forget.

Not just that, she didn't make demands. She didn't treat it like some chore, nor did she try to please him.

She was different.

He left for a month, not because he didn't want to see her face the next day. No, he had matters to settle with his enemies.

He didn't know how to repay her. Giving her money would have been an insult. Offering her a contract or a favor felt cheap.

She had given him something priceless – her trust, her body, her silence. No strings. No expectations. She covered his shame. She saved him from public embarrassment, from his empire crumbling.

Detroit West hated debts, but with her, he didn’t mind owing.

That was why he came back. That was why he took a month to think about something that would be best for her. Something that would be worth it.

That was why he found himself sitting in a cramped sofa in her room, in the dead of the night, her design drafts in his grasp. Her strokes were flawless. The designs would stir the fashion industry if they made an appearance on the runway.

Detroit West lifted his head. She was still staring at the document in her hands. Her knuckles were white. Whatever she was thinking, could only be a battle between yes or no.

“Adele,” he said at last, his voice calm and smooth.

She flinched slightly, almost imperceptibly, before masking it. Smart girl. She didn't trust him. He could see it – the caution in her posture, the way she kept a deliberate distance. She wasn’t wrong to be wary. He didn’t expect trust. He didn’t even require it.

For a long moment, he said nothing more. The words he meant to speak hung in the air, heavy, and dangerous. Part of him didn't want to say them at all. But something older, something more primal, pushed them out.

“I owe you,” he said, the words flat, stripped of emotion. “That night... you helped me. More than you realize.”

“What if…” she paused and swallowed. “What if I'm married? What if —”

“Adele Ford, ex-wife of Ryan Thompson, mother of a seven year old Ethan Thompson.” He continued smoothly, his voice low, almost indifferent.

"I do my homework."

Adele stiffened, her fingers tightening around the contract in her hands. He could see the flicker of fear, of realization, in her eyes — that this man was dangerous in ways she hadn’t fully grasped before.

Detroit leaned back against the sofa, one arm draped lazily over the back, the picture of patience and power.

“I don’t make offers lightly, Adele,” he said. "You don’t have to say yes. You don't even have to trust me." His gaze sharpened. "But understand, Adele... I'm giving you a door. Whether you walk through it is your choice."

Her chest rose and fell with a shaky breath.

"You want to buy me?" she asked, voice trembling, but there was steel underneath it.

He smiled slightly, but there was no humor in it.

"If I wanted to buy you," he murmured, "I would’ve slid a check across this table and left." He leaned forward, slow, deliberate, the heavy gold watch at his wrist catching the dim light. "I want to invest in you."

The way he said it made her heart stutter. Invest. Not own. Not use. Invest.

"Whatever you want. However you want it.” He gestured to the document she was holding. “The terms are there. All you need to know.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Then, she looked down at the document and slowly began to flip the pages.

Detroit West rose from the sofa and moved to her bed. Adele didn't look up from the document. However, her body stiffened as she felt his presence looming over her.

But Detroit West didn't stop beside her. His focus was on her scattered drafts. He sat himself on the edge of the bed and picked a few more papers.

“Have you thought of having your own fashion brand?”

Adele’s fingers faltered on the page she was reading. “My own brand?” she echoed, her voice thin as she looked up at him.

Detroit didn’t lift his gaze from the sketches in his hand. His thumb brushed over the edge of one of her designs with unexpected gentleness, as if he was touching something precious — or dangerous.

"You have talent," he said simply. "Real talent. Not the kind that can be taught in classrooms."

The compliment stunned her more than the contract. Compliments from men like him were rarer than gold.

He set the papers down beside him and finally looked at her — that intense, unreadable stare stripping away all her defenses.

"You belong on bigger stages," he said. "Not hiding in some forgotten resort."

Adele passed her tongue over her lips, and bit her bottom lips. He could see she was debating. Perhaps, she was scared and unsure.

"And if I say no?" she whispered.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a shadow of a smile. But it wasn't mocking. It was almost... regretful. “Then, it's a pity.”

She stared back at the contract for a while. Then, she set the contract down carefully on the small table. Her hands were steady now. Her decision clear.

She lifted her head and met his gaze, her chin tilting stubbornly. “I'll do it. But on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“I want this resort.” She said. “I don't know where the auction is being held. I want to be there. I want to own it.” She continued before he could react. “You said I'd get two billion upfront, right? I want to use a part of it to purchase this resort."