Chapter 1
The charity gala was a blur of clinking crystal, mindless
chatter, and perfume that made my head ache. I didn't belong
here. I was only here because my family’s failing company
was suffocation on debt, and this room held the only people
who could throw us a lifeline.
Then, the crowd parted, and the temperature in the room
seemed to drop.
Christian stone had entered.
He didn't just walk into a room; he commanded it. Impeccably
tailored in a black tuxedo, he possessed a lethal, dark
handsomeness that made everyone else fade into the
background. But it was his eyes that stopped me dead. They
were piercing, calculating, and devoid of any warmth.
Before I could turn away, his gaze locked onto mine.
An electric jolt shot straight down my spine. There was no
polite interest in his eyes. It was absolute, consuming lust,
raw and unfiltered. It felt like he was stripping away all
my defenses with a single look.
"Miss Hale," a voice smooth as velvet and dangerous as a
blade sounded right beside me. I hadn't even seen him move.
He was suddenly there, towering over me, holding a glass of
amber liquid.
"Mr. Stone," I whispered, my voice betraying my nervousness.
"I—I was actually hoping to speak to you about my father's
firm. We need an investor, and—"
"I know exactly what you need," he interrupted, stepping
closer, invading my space until I could smell his expensive
cologne. "And I know exactly what your family is willing to
trade for it."
I swallowed hard, stepping back against a marble pillar.
"It's a legitimate business proposal."
Christian let out a low, dark chuckle that sent shivers racing
across my skin. He leaned in, his lips brushing close to my
ear. "There is nothing legitimate about what I want from you.
Your father wants fifty million. I want you."
My breath hitched. "I would never sell myself to you."
He pulled back, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his
lips. He looked at me like a wolf watching a deer that didn't
realize it was already caught in a trap.
"Is that so?" Christian asked, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Then let's make a deal. A challenge."
I tightened my grip on my clutch. "What challenge?"
"Two weeks," he said, his voice dropping to a commanding whisper.
"I will give your family's creditors exactly fourteen days.
You can try to find the money anywhere else in this city. But
when everyone shuts their doors in your face—and they will—you
will come to my apartment. Voluntarily."
He leaned down, his hot breath fanning my cheek.
"Two weeks, little one. And when you lose, you sign your body
and soul over to me."
Without waiting for my answer, he turned and walked away,
leaving me shaking in the shadows.
I thought I could beat him. I thought I could find another way.
I was wrong.
One week.
Seven days had passed, and the clock was mercilessly ticking.
I had spent every waking hour running around London, knocking
on the doors of nearly every major firm, begging for an
investment. Everyone turned me away. It was exactly as
Christian had predicted—his invisible hand seemed to block every
path I took.
But today was different. This new company was my very last
hope.
Taking a deep breath, I smoothed down my skirt, stepped up
to the CEO's office, and knocked on the door.
"Come in," a voice called out.
Inside sat Mr. forger, an older, stern-faced man shuffling
through my family's financial papers. I pleaded our case
with everything I had left, but within minutes, he sighed
and slid the folders back across the desk.
"I'm sorry, Miss Hale. We cannot take this risk. The answer
is no."
The words felt like a physical blow. My chest tightened.
The last glimmer of hope was extinguished.
Numbly, I gathered my things, turned around, and headed
for the door. But the very moment my hand touched the handle,
the door swung open from the outside.
The air stagnated. My heart stopped.
Christian Stone walked right into the cabin.
He didn't even look at me at first. With a flick of his wrist
and a sharp, silent nod, he signaled to Mr. forger. The older
man didn't hesitate—he immediately stood up, bowed his head,
and scurried out of the room, shutting the heavy oak door
behind him.
And just like that, we were entirely alone.
Panic and fury flared inside my chest. He was toyed with me.
He owned this place too. Refusing to give him the satisfaction
of seeing me cry, I lifted my chin, ignored his piercing
stare, and tried to step right past him to escape.
I didn't even make it one step.
His hand shot out like lightning, wrapping around my wrist in
a vice-like grip.
"Leave my hand," I snapped, glaring up at him, my voice
shaking with a mix of anger and fear.
Instead of letting go, his grip tightened. The brutal force
of his fingers pressed hard against the glass bangles lining
my wrist.
*Crack.*
The sharp sound echoed in the quiet room as the bangles shattered
under his strength, the broken pieces showering the carpet
below us.
He didn't flinch. He just pulled me closer, his eyes darkening
with that same absolute, terrifying lust.
"One week, little one," he murmured, his voice dangerously
low. "And you're already running out of places to hide."
Before the last shards of glass could even settle on the
floor, he yanked my arm, pulling me flush against his
hard chest. The sudden, brutal proximity stole the remaining
breath from my lungs. I could feel the steady, terrifying
beat of his heart, the pure power radiating from his frame.
His eyes locked onto mine, burning with a dark, uncompromising
intensity that made my knees weak. Then, his gaze dropped.
He looked at my lips.
The air between us turned to fire. I could see the intent
in the sharp line of his jaw, the way he leaned down to
claim what he believed was already his.
But I wasn't his property. Not yet.
A surge of pure, defiant adrenaline flooded my veins. With
every ounce of strength I had left, I braced my hands against
his broad shoulders and pushed him back. The sudden force
caught him by surprise, gaining me just enough inches of
space.
Before he could reach for me again, I swung my hand forward.
*SLAP.*
The sharp, cracking sound echoed violently against the walls
of the silent office. My palm stung from the impact, throbbing
with the force of the blow.
Christian's head snapped to the side. A harsh, red mark instantly
began to bloom across his perfect, aristocratic cheekbone.
For a second, the world completely stopped. I stood there,
my chest heaving, staring at what I had just done. Nobody
crossed Christian Stone. Nobody defied him. And certainly,
nobody struck him.
Slowly, agonizingly so, he turned his head back to face me.
The expression on his face made my blood run cold. He didn't
look furious; he looked entirely unfazed, a dark, predatory
glint awakening deep within his shadowed eyes. He swiped a
single finger over his lip, his gaze pinning me to the floor.
"Fierce," he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a growl.
"I wonder if you'll keep that same fire when your two weeks
are up, Elena"
I was about to walk away, desperate to put as much distance
between us as possible, when Christian spoke.
His voice wasn't loud, but the sheer weight of it anchored
me to the spot.
"The more you make me wait," he said, his tone dropping to
a dark, dangerous whisper as his eyes raked over me, "and
the more you show me this attitude... the harder I will make
it for you to bear me in bed."
The blunt, possessive threat sent a shiver of pure dread
straight to my core.
He stepped closer, the redness on his cheek from my slap
making him look even more menacing. "Keep fighting me,
Elena. It only makes me want to break you more."
And with that, he turned on his heel and left.
He moved like a sudden, violent storm, tearing out of the
office and leaving nothing but chaos and ruin in his wake.
The heavy oak door clicked shut, but the shaking in my knees
didn't stop.
I looked down at the shattered pieces of my glass bangles
glinting on the carpet. A terrible, heavy weight settled
deep in my chest.
I had won this brief battle. I had pushed him away, and I
had struck his face. But the look in Christian's eyes before
he walked out told me everything I needed to know. This
wasn't the end.
He was leaving now, but only to gather his forces. He would
come back. And when he did, he would return with the kind
of overwhelming, merciless power that would shatter me
piece by piece.
And I was running out of time to stop him.
