Prologue
The Price of Obedience
Paris, Midnight.
The chandelier above her was worth more than the national budgets of most countries.
The diamonds at her throat? Blood-clean. Ethically sourced. Perfectly curated.
And still—she couldn’t breathe.
Aurelia Sterling stood on the marble balcony of the Hôtel de Crèvecoeur, the chill biting at her skin through silk. Inside, ambassadors laughed. Royalty drank. The man she was expected to marry by autumn was bragging about the new warship named after her.
And somewhere in that room, her father watched everything.
Power was protection.
Obedience was survival.
And love?
Love was a story sold to girls who couldn’t afford to inherit kingdoms.
She lifted a glass of champagne, letting the crystal tremble just slightly in her hand. Her signature move: vulnerability, disguised as elegance. No one noticed. No one ever did.
Except him.
She didn’t hear his footsteps—she never did.
But she felt him.
Declan Mercer stepped into the shadows beside her, silent as a secret.
Black suit. Cold eyes. That military stillness that said he was always armed.
“Too quiet out here,” he said.
Not a question. A warning.
She didn’t look at him. “Wouldn’t want to tempt an assassin with an open shot.”
“Wouldn’t happen.” His voice was low. Controlled. Absolute. “I’d see it coming.”
“You always do.” Her lips curved faintly. “You’re very good at watching me, Mr. Mercer.”
A pause. Just long enough to notice.
“That’s the job,” he said.
But that wasn’t what his eyes said.
Aurelia finally turned her head to him, her gaze cutting. “And if you ever stopped doing your job?”
His jaw locked—steel behind the skin.
“Then someone would get to you,” he said, voice a shade darker. “And I’d have to kill them. Slowly.”
A flicker of heat sparked in her ribs—rage, desire, or maybe just relief that someone in her world wasn’t pretending.
She didn’t thank him. He didn’t expect it.
Instead, she drained her champagne, set the glass on the railing, and whispered, “Someday I’ll walk out of one of these rooms and not come back.”
Declan didn’t flinch.
But his reply was ice:
“Not while I’m breathing.”
