Chapter 2: MRS CREEK ARTEMIS POV

Aidan Creek?

The name rolled around in my head like a loose marble; I'd seen it somewhere, probably in a newspaper, or overheard it in one of those whispered conversations meant for ears much wealthier than mine. He was one of the richest men in California, practically untouchable.

So why the hell would he want a petty thief like me to be his mistress?

I folded my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. "You have to be joking. I'd marry a pig before I'd marry you."

Aidan didn't flinch, just stared at a slow, calculated stare that had my skin crawling. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but sharp enough to slice through steel.

"Then I'll make sure you rot in prison," he said. "Trust me, you don't want to know what happens to people like you in there."

I froze. It felt like he gut-punched me with his words. He was right: he was the one with power and influence, and I didn't stand a chance. Prison wasn't just a punishment but a sure death sentence for someone like me.

"Why won't you let me go?" I asked, desperation now starting to creep in.

He arched an elegant brow, his face cold. "You stole my watch."

I rolled my eyes, calling on every last shred of defiance inside me. "That watch is probably worth less than one percent of your net worth. Just let it go.

Aidan inclined his head to one side, seeming to consider my words, before straightening. His tone was flat, emotionless. "Take her away."

My heart stopped.

"Wait!" I yelled as two guards clutched my arms. I struggled, but they would give in to no one.

Aidan didn't bat an eyelid.

This bastard is serious.

I counted silently in my head to three because decisions needed weighing. Yet, there were no options.

"Fine! I accept!"

The guards froze, and I was dragged back in front of Aidan. His expression hadn't changed that impenetrable mask of indifference.

I accept your stupid offer," I snapped.

He nodded like I'd just agreed on the most reasonable proposition in the world. He ran a hand through his dark hair; my eyes betrayed me and followed the movement.

"Good. Get her in the car," he ordered, already turning away.

"Wait!" I blurted.

He stopped, his shoulders stiffening before he finally turned back. His regard was icy, his annoyance palpable.

"What now?"

I was terrified, but a smirk played on my lips. "If we do this, I have conditions."

His lips twitched, but not into a smile. "Go on.”

I folded my arms, glaring up at him. "I want food. Good food. Every day. And clothes-nice ones. Oh, and an allowance. A big one.”

Aidan's eyes scanned over my worn hoodie and ripped jeans, and he nodded once. "Done. Anything else?”

"That's it, rich boy."

He nodded at Daymon, the silent, blonde giant who had been lurking in the wings, it seemed. I whirled and bent in less than a heartbeat; the cold steel of handcuffs was like teeth in my wrists as I bucked.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I yelled.

 Daymon's lips brushed along my ear, and his low, coaxing voice seemed to rumble. "Relax, Red, this is just so that you don't run away.”

I stilled, glaring over my shoulder. "I'm not running, you asshole."

Daymon ignored me, pushing me toward a sleek black car. He shoved me inside and slid in after me.

"You're scary," I muttered. "All that black and those sunglasses—are you trying to audition for a Bond villain?"

His lips twitched, almost a smile. Almost. "Less talking, Mrs. Creek."

The car lurched forward, taking off behind Aidan's Tesla.

Mrs. Creek?" I echoed, blinking. The name sounded so foreign, so wrong.

I sighed, leaning back in my seat. The fight had been sucked out of me, leaving only the hollow ache of exhaustion. Memories of my parents flickered through my mind unbidden. If they were still alive, none of this would be happening.

I reached for Daymon's hand without thinking. He stiffened, but he didn't pull away. The warmth of his palm steadied me, anchoring me as I fought to keep the tears at bay.

"How did someone like you end up working for Aidan?" I asked softly.

Daymon didn't take his eyes off the road. "Let's not talk about that.”

I frowned. "Fine. But—“

Before I could get to the end, he gagged me with a rag.

My eyes bulged in incredulity, and I shot him a murderous glare.

"There. Much better," he said, his grin infuriatingly smug.

The car slowed to a stop and Daymon's face went somber. He took the rag away, but those blue eyes of his were steady on mine, intent, commanding.

"Don't say anything when we go out," he warned.

I nodded, though I had no intention of keeping quiet.

The moment we stepped out of the car, my jaw dropped.

The house, better termed as an estate, looked as if it was lifted straight out of some movie: grand pillars sprawled on lawns with more windows than I could count-beautiful, intimidating, utterly unwelcoming.

Daymon pushed me along, his grip never giving an inch. His fingers were in deep within my flesh and the guards took us up the marble stairs into the house.

Inside, it was even grander. Chandeliers glittered overhead, and floors gleamed like polished gold. I should have been awed, but all I felt was dread.

Aidan's downstairs," Daymon said shortly. "There will be dinner with his parents. There are some things he wants you to know before then.”

I frowned. "What sort of things?"

Daymon ignored me, pushing me toward a staircase.

"Your work begins now," he said, disappearing downstairs.

Wait, what did he mean by “my work”