Elena wasn’t sure how long she stood there after Alexander left.Her skin still tingled where he had touched her, and her heartbeat hadn’t slowed, no matter how many deep breaths she took.This can’t happen.She couldn’t afford to feel anything for him. He was still the man who had trapped her in this marriage. The man who controlled her life.And yet, the way he had touched her—the way he had looked at her—No.She needed space.Elena spun on her heel and walked out of the living room, heading toward the back of the house. She had discovered a small balcony the day before, one that overlooked the city. Maybe some fresh air would clear her head.But as she pushed open the glass doors and stepped outside, she froze.Someone else was already there.A woman.Tall. Stunning. With sleek blonde hair and a figure that looked like it had been sculpted by the gods themselves. She was dressed in an emerald-green silk dress that clung to her curves, her posture poised and elegant.Elena didn’t r
Elena barely slept that night.Scarlett’s words haunted her, twisting in her mind like a cruel echo.“He ruins people.”“He doesn’t like losing what belongs to him.”And worst of all—Alexander’s response.“Scarlett thinks she knows me. She doesn’t.”“Not yet.”Elena should have been terrified. Should have doubled down on her plan to escape.Instead, she found herself watching Alexander more closely.Looking for the truth.—The next morning, she found him in the dining room.It was a strange, quiet ritual between them. They never made plans to eat together, but somehow, they always ended up in the same space at the same time.Elena’s eyes flicked over him as she sat across from him at the long, sleek table. He was already dressed for the day—black button-up, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, wristwatch gleaming in the morning light.He didn’t look up when she sat. Didn’t acknowledge her at all.And yet, she could feel it—the way he was aware of her.The tension between them from last
Elena couldn’t stop thinking about Tristan Kane.Even after she returned to the mansion, after she changed into comfortable clothes and tried to push the encounter out of her mind, his words clung to her.“You don’t belong in his world.”“You’re looking for a way out.”She had wanted freedom since the moment she was forced into this marriage. She had dreamed of escape.So why did it feel wrong to hear those words now?Why did she feel like she wasn’t trapped anymore?Why did she think of Alexander every time she considered leaving?—She found him in his office that evening.He was sitting behind his desk, his sleeves rolled up, fingers tapping lightly against the polished wood. His eyes flicked to her as she stepped inside, but he didn’t speak.He was waiting.For her to say something.For her to choose why she was here.Elena hesitated, then crossed the room, stopping just before his desk. “I ran into someone today.”His fingers stilled. “Who?”She met his gaze. “Tristan Kane.”A sl
The scent of burnt coffee and fried food clung to the air as Elena Thompson weaved through the crowded diner, balancing a tray with three plates of burgers and fries. The old ceiling fan above did little to cool the humid space, and the chatter of customers mixed with the sizzle of the kitchen grill.“Table five,” her boss, Marv, called from behind the counter, barely glancing up as he wiped a smudge off a glass.Elena forced a polite smile as she set down the plates for a group of college kids who barely acknowledged her. She was used to it. Five years of waitressing at Joe’s Diner had taught her that people rarely saw the person serving them.She turned toward the register, rolling her stiff shoulders. It had been another grueling double shift, and her feet ached, but she needed the extra hours. The bills weren’t going to pay themselves, and neither was her father’s ever-growing gambling debt.The thought of him sent a pang of exhaustion through her. William Thompson had once been a
Elena’s hands trembled as she gripped the contract, her pulse hammering in her ears. The words on the paper blurred as her mind screamed at her to run. To do something—anything—other than stand there, staring at the man who claimed to own her now.Alexander Calloway watched her with that same detached expression, as if none of this was unusual. As if forcing a woman into marriage was just another business deal to him.Her breath came fast and shallow. “I’m not going with you,” she repeated, her voice sharp, defiant.A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. “You are.”“The hell I am.”“Elena.”She froze. He had said her name with a quiet certainty, as if he already knew every step she would take. As if he had already played out every possible reaction and had a solution for all of them.She gritted her teeth. “You don’t get to say my name like that. You don’t know me.”A small, almost imperceptible tilt of his head. “Not yet.”Her stomach twisted. “This is insane. You can’t just—”“E
The car moved smoothly through the streets of New York, its quiet hum filling the tense silence inside. Elena sat rigid against the cool leather seat, her breathing uneven as she glared at the man beside her.Alexander Calloway.The name carried weight in the business world. She had heard it before—whispers of his ruthless tactics, the way he dominated every deal he touched. But none of that had mattered to her until tonight. Until he had barged into her life and taken everything from her.Now, she was trapped in a moving prison, heading toward an unknown fate.Her fingers curled into fists against her lap. “Where are you taking me?”Alexander, who had been adjusting his cufflinks as if none of this was unusual, glanced at her. “Home.”She barked out a laugh. “Home? I have a home.”“No, you don’t.” His voice was infuriatingly calm. “Your apartment was seized by the debt collectors. Your father disappeared. You have nothing.”A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down. She
Elena lay awake in the massive bed, staring at the ceiling. The sheets were softer than anything she had ever felt, the room silent except for the faint hum of the city outside. But despite the luxury, she felt suffocated. She was in his house now. Married to him. Her father had ruined her life, and Alexander Calloway had taken full advantage. She clenched her jaw and turned onto her side, glaring at the expensive decor that mocked her. She didn’t belong here, surrounded by wealth that wasn’t hers, trapped in a situation she never agreed to. She had spent her whole life clawing for independence, only for it to be ripped away in a single night. Her fingers curled into the sheets. I won’t just accept this. Her mind raced with ways to escape. The mansion was massive, and she had only seen a fraction of it, but it had to have weaknesses. Exits. Something. Alexander was powerful, but he wasn’t invincible. She exhaled sharply and sat up, glancing at the bedside clock. 2:13 AM. Per
Elena sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the floor. Her fists clenched in her lap, nails biting into her palms.She had thought she could escape. That she could slip away while Alexander slept, disappear into the city, and take control of her life again.But she had been wrong.The men at the gate—the debt collectors, the predators who saw her as payment—had shattered that illusion.She was trapped.Her breath came out shaky as she recalled the moment she had looked back at Alexander, her heart hammering with the sick realization that he had known all along.He had let her go because he wanted her to see the truth for herself.She hated him for that.A sharp knock on the door made her jump.“Elena.”His voice. Deep. Steady. Unbothered.She squeezed her eyes shut and ignored him.A pause. Then, “Open the door.”She remained still, breathing heavily.A moment later, the handle turned. Of course, it wasn’t locked. Why would it be? This wasn’t her real room—it was just another
Elena couldn’t stop thinking about Tristan Kane.Even after she returned to the mansion, after she changed into comfortable clothes and tried to push the encounter out of her mind, his words clung to her.“You don’t belong in his world.”“You’re looking for a way out.”She had wanted freedom since the moment she was forced into this marriage. She had dreamed of escape.So why did it feel wrong to hear those words now?Why did she feel like she wasn’t trapped anymore?Why did she think of Alexander every time she considered leaving?—She found him in his office that evening.He was sitting behind his desk, his sleeves rolled up, fingers tapping lightly against the polished wood. His eyes flicked to her as she stepped inside, but he didn’t speak.He was waiting.For her to say something.For her to choose why she was here.Elena hesitated, then crossed the room, stopping just before his desk. “I ran into someone today.”His fingers stilled. “Who?”She met his gaze. “Tristan Kane.”A sl
Elena barely slept that night.Scarlett’s words haunted her, twisting in her mind like a cruel echo.“He ruins people.”“He doesn’t like losing what belongs to him.”And worst of all—Alexander’s response.“Scarlett thinks she knows me. She doesn’t.”“Not yet.”Elena should have been terrified. Should have doubled down on her plan to escape.Instead, she found herself watching Alexander more closely.Looking for the truth.—The next morning, she found him in the dining room.It was a strange, quiet ritual between them. They never made plans to eat together, but somehow, they always ended up in the same space at the same time.Elena’s eyes flicked over him as she sat across from him at the long, sleek table. He was already dressed for the day—black button-up, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, wristwatch gleaming in the morning light.He didn’t look up when she sat. Didn’t acknowledge her at all.And yet, she could feel it—the way he was aware of her.The tension between them from last
Elena wasn’t sure how long she stood there after Alexander left.Her skin still tingled where he had touched her, and her heartbeat hadn’t slowed, no matter how many deep breaths she took.This can’t happen.She couldn’t afford to feel anything for him. He was still the man who had trapped her in this marriage. The man who controlled her life.And yet, the way he had touched her—the way he had looked at her—No.She needed space.Elena spun on her heel and walked out of the living room, heading toward the back of the house. She had discovered a small balcony the day before, one that overlooked the city. Maybe some fresh air would clear her head.But as she pushed open the glass doors and stepped outside, she froze.Someone else was already there.A woman.Tall. Stunning. With sleek blonde hair and a figure that looked like it had been sculpted by the gods themselves. She was dressed in an emerald-green silk dress that clung to her curves, her posture poised and elegant.Elena didn’t r
The car ride back was quiet, but this time, the silence felt different. Charged.Elena could feel Alexander’s presence beside her, his arm resting casually on the center console, his fingers tapping lightly against the leather. He wasn’t looking at her, but she could feel his attention—like he was aware of her every breath, every movement.And the worst part? She was aware of him, too.The way his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his strong forearms. The way his cologne lingered in the air, crisp and expensive. The way his jaw tensed when she shifted in her seat.She hated that she noticed these things.She hated that her pulse had started doing this stupid, traitorous thing whenever he was near.She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His face remained unreadable, as always. Cold. Detached.Then, out of nowhere, he spoke.“You don’t like being taken care of.”It wasn’t a question. It was an observation.Elena frowned, turning toward him fully. “No, I don’t.”Alexander’s gaze
Elena sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the floor. Her fists clenched in her lap, nails biting into her palms.She had thought she could escape. That she could slip away while Alexander slept, disappear into the city, and take control of her life again.But she had been wrong.The men at the gate—the debt collectors, the predators who saw her as payment—had shattered that illusion.She was trapped.Her breath came out shaky as she recalled the moment she had looked back at Alexander, her heart hammering with the sick realization that he had known all along.He had let her go because he wanted her to see the truth for herself.She hated him for that.A sharp knock on the door made her jump.“Elena.”His voice. Deep. Steady. Unbothered.She squeezed her eyes shut and ignored him.A pause. Then, “Open the door.”She remained still, breathing heavily.A moment later, the handle turned. Of course, it wasn’t locked. Why would it be? This wasn’t her real room—it was just another
Elena lay awake in the massive bed, staring at the ceiling. The sheets were softer than anything she had ever felt, the room silent except for the faint hum of the city outside. But despite the luxury, she felt suffocated. She was in his house now. Married to him. Her father had ruined her life, and Alexander Calloway had taken full advantage. She clenched her jaw and turned onto her side, glaring at the expensive decor that mocked her. She didn’t belong here, surrounded by wealth that wasn’t hers, trapped in a situation she never agreed to. She had spent her whole life clawing for independence, only for it to be ripped away in a single night. Her fingers curled into the sheets. I won’t just accept this. Her mind raced with ways to escape. The mansion was massive, and she had only seen a fraction of it, but it had to have weaknesses. Exits. Something. Alexander was powerful, but he wasn’t invincible. She exhaled sharply and sat up, glancing at the bedside clock. 2:13 AM. Per
The car moved smoothly through the streets of New York, its quiet hum filling the tense silence inside. Elena sat rigid against the cool leather seat, her breathing uneven as she glared at the man beside her.Alexander Calloway.The name carried weight in the business world. She had heard it before—whispers of his ruthless tactics, the way he dominated every deal he touched. But none of that had mattered to her until tonight. Until he had barged into her life and taken everything from her.Now, she was trapped in a moving prison, heading toward an unknown fate.Her fingers curled into fists against her lap. “Where are you taking me?”Alexander, who had been adjusting his cufflinks as if none of this was unusual, glanced at her. “Home.”She barked out a laugh. “Home? I have a home.”“No, you don’t.” His voice was infuriatingly calm. “Your apartment was seized by the debt collectors. Your father disappeared. You have nothing.”A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down. She
Elena’s hands trembled as she gripped the contract, her pulse hammering in her ears. The words on the paper blurred as her mind screamed at her to run. To do something—anything—other than stand there, staring at the man who claimed to own her now.Alexander Calloway watched her with that same detached expression, as if none of this was unusual. As if forcing a woman into marriage was just another business deal to him.Her breath came fast and shallow. “I’m not going with you,” she repeated, her voice sharp, defiant.A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. “You are.”“The hell I am.”“Elena.”She froze. He had said her name with a quiet certainty, as if he already knew every step she would take. As if he had already played out every possible reaction and had a solution for all of them.She gritted her teeth. “You don’t get to say my name like that. You don’t know me.”A small, almost imperceptible tilt of his head. “Not yet.”Her stomach twisted. “This is insane. You can’t just—”“E
The scent of burnt coffee and fried food clung to the air as Elena Thompson weaved through the crowded diner, balancing a tray with three plates of burgers and fries. The old ceiling fan above did little to cool the humid space, and the chatter of customers mixed with the sizzle of the kitchen grill.“Table five,” her boss, Marv, called from behind the counter, barely glancing up as he wiped a smudge off a glass.Elena forced a polite smile as she set down the plates for a group of college kids who barely acknowledged her. She was used to it. Five years of waitressing at Joe’s Diner had taught her that people rarely saw the person serving them.She turned toward the register, rolling her stiff shoulders. It had been another grueling double shift, and her feet ached, but she needed the extra hours. The bills weren’t going to pay themselves, and neither was her father’s ever-growing gambling debt.The thought of him sent a pang of exhaustion through her. William Thompson had once been a