5

It’d been hours since I run away but the memory of the phantom pressure of Lucas’ fingers against my throat was still etched into my skin. I sat on the edge of the plush bed in Marcus’s house, my hands trembling so violently that the tea in the china cup rattled against the saucer as Marcus sat beside me his eyes were dark, filled with a mixture of pity and helplessness looking more like a concerned friend I had known since childhood than the corporate shark the rest of the world saw.

"I’m sure he’s looking for you," he said, his voice low.

"I can’t go back, or he’ll finish what he started tonight.” I shook my head.

“Eva,”

“You didn’t see the look in his eyes Marcus." I set the cup down. "He’s a lunatic, he’s already calling my parents framing me as an unstable addict, telling them I’ve been having mental breakdowns. He’s backing me into a corner."

“What do you want me to do Eva, you can’t hide here forever,” Marcus sighed, leaning forward and rubbing his temples. "I’ve gone through the files. I’ve looked at every contingency, every loophole in the pre-nup, my hands are tied."

"Tell me my options," I demanded, though I knew the answer.

Marcus looked at the floor, then back at me. "You have two options. Option one, file for divorce tomorrow, you get your freedom, but walk away with nothing. He’s already prepared the smear campaign, the media is primed. He’ll paint you red, the drug-addicted spouse. Your family’s company will be liquidated within forty-eight hours of the filing, they’ll be bankrupt, homeless, and ostracized."

"Option two," He continued. “You go back. You play the submissive wife, give him an heir and wait until he grows bored you. It guarantees your family safety of."

The idea of having a child with that man made my skin crawl.

"No."

"No," I repeated standing up, the pacing helped keep the panic at bay. "There has to be another option."

"There isn't," Marcus insisted. "Unless you find someone who owns the fucking casino, there’s no winning against that scumbag owns."

“We’ll talk tomorrow, rest for now.” He sighed leaving me alone in the guest room.

Sleep was a stranger, I lay in the dark, the silence of the house making me uneasy. My phone sat on the nightstand, its screen lite up casting a faint yet annoying blue light across the room and I picked it up to shut it down, but then something caught my eye.

Theodore Duke, the Duke of Wall Street. The headline read.

An article about him had popped up on my screen and I found myself opening it.

He was wealthy, and, according to the rumors, the absolute best at what he did. He didn't play by the rules, he created them. My gaze lingered on a photo of him from a gala and his words echoed in my ears.

“All you have to do is say the word."

“I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

He’s exactly what I need—someone who owns the fucking casino

---

I didn't sleep a wink that night, I spent the hours reading more Articles, interviews, financial reports about him, and weighing the risks of my desperation and by the time the sun rose, I had made my decision.

I left a note for Marcus, dressed in the same clothes from the night before, and took a taxi to the Lucas’ office building.

I checked my watch: 5:45 AM.

I walked past the lobby and made it to the executive floor till I reached the door of the office Theodore was occupying and stopped. My hand hovered over the wood but I didn’t let myself think.

Here goes nothing, Eva.

I pushed the door open to the office that smelled of expensive paper and dark roast coffee, and sitting behind the desk, was Theodore Duke. He was already working, his sleeves rolled up, a pen in his hand.

"Mrs. Xavier." He said.

The deep calm of his voice made my breath hitch, but I didn’t back out, instead I walked further into the room, the click of my heels echoing like thunderclaps.

"You said you’ll be waiting," I said, stopping at the edge of his desk.

He set his pen down slowly and looked up his grey eyes were cool as ice, but there was a flicker of amusement. He wasn't surprised, he looked like he had been expecting me, like he’d been watching the clock, waiting for me to cave.

"Leave us," he commanded his assistant, who stood in the corner.

She scrambled out, pulling the heavy door shut behind her.

He looked at me, head to toe, in a way that made me feel entirely naked. The air grew heavy, charged with a magnetic, undeniable tension.

"I knew you’d come around," he murmured his voice dropping into that husky register that triggered memories of the club. He reached out, his thumb trailing along my jawline, and I shivered involuntarily at his touch.

"I'm offering you a business proposition." I said gripping the edge of his desk to stop my hands from shaking.

He stood up, slowly, he was a predator, and I was stepping into his den. He walked around the desk, his strides long and deliberate, until he stopped just inches from me. He looked taller than I remembered, his presence filling the air around me so completely I could barely breathe.

"A proposition?" He tilted his head.

"I know you don’t like Lucas," I said, forcing myself to look up at him. "I can help you ruin him, I know where his bodies are buried."

“What makes you think that,” He asked lips curling into a smirk that matched the darkness in his eyes.

"Intuition," I shrugged.

“Say I don’t like him, what makes you think I don’t already have enough to ruin him on my own?” He asked.

My confidence vanished at his question, he was right, he was a powerful man and could crush anyone with ease, he didn’t need my help.

“I need your help.” I whispered, the defiance draining out of me, leaving only raw, jagged need. "Name your price."

He stepped closer, his chest brushing against mine, and my breath hitched.

"My price isn't money, angel," he whispered, his mouth inches from my ear. His breath was hot, a stark contrast to the coolness of the morning.

"What do you want?" I asked, voice barely audible.

He placed his hands on my hips, pulling me flush against him. The hardness of his body, the raw, masculine power radiating from him, was intoxicating.

"Be my wife," he murmured, his hands sliding down to press firmly against the small of my back, molding me to his length.

"I can’t leave one marriage only to enter another," I said firmly, though my body was already betraying me, heating up, yearning for the touch I had been starved of.

"Then give me one year," he said, his voice turning stern. "For one year, you belong to me. Not in the way you belonged to him as a breeding vessel. You belong to me as my woman. My girlfriend, in the public eye," He paused then continued, "And in private, you will be my little sex toy."

My heart hammered against my ribs, it was a barbaric, archaic deal, and yet, looking into his dark possessive eyes, I didn't see a cage, I saw a way out.

"And afterwards?" I asked voice trembling.

"At the end of the year," he said, his fingers digging into my hips, an ache of anticipation settling deep between my thighs, "you walk away with your freedom, your family's estate, and the satisfaction that Lucas Xavier is finished."

He dipped his head, his nose brushing against my neck, inhaling deeply. "Well, angel? Do we have an accord?"

I closed my eyes, the weight of the decision pressing down on me. I thought of my family. I thought of the smear campaign. I thought of Lucas's hands on my throat. Then, I thought of the electricity between me and this man, the way he made me feel like I was the only person in the world, even if his intent was to own me.

“But you said you could help me,” I frowned, the despair I tried to hide now showing, leaking out into the stillness of the office.

“And I still can,” He said. “The terms have just changed a little.”

A little…that was an understatement.

“All you have to do is give yourself to me, angel,” He whispered, “And everything in this world will be at your feet, Lucas included.”

“For just a year.”

The words hung in the air, absolute and irrevocable. One year. It was a lifetime and a heartbeat all at once.

Before I could process the gravity of it, he stepped into my space, backing me away until the edge of his mahogany desk bit into the backs of my thighs. I gasped, the sudden contact jolting through me but he didn’t stop, instead he crowded into me, his broad frame caging me in, his hands coming up to brace against the desk on either side of my hips, effectively locking me in place.

He was so close that his scent completely overwhelmed my senses.

“You’re shaking, angel,” he murmured, his voice a low, vibrating hum that seemed to rattle my bones. He leaned down, his face hovering just millimeters from mine. “Are you afraid?”

“I don’t know,” I breathed.

He growled and without breaking eye contact, his hand left the desk and he went straight for the hem of my skirt, his fingers sliding underneath the fabric, finding the sensitive skin of my thigh. His touch was electric, a searing contrast to the cool surface of the desk behind me.

“Think about it,” he commanded, his voice dropping to a gravelly, seductive register. “Think about the moment Lucas loses everything.”

His fingers traced higher, his palm heavy and warm against my skin. My breath hitched, a soft moan escaping my lips.

“I’m going to treat you like a queen.” Theo continued, his free hand moving to tangle in my hair, tilting my head back so I had no choice but to look at him. “I will shower you in everything you’ve been denied. You want revenge? It’s yours. You want to see him burn? I’ll hand you the match.”

His fingers reached the edge of my panties, slipping beneath the lace. I jolted, my legs parting instinctively. The air in the office suddenly felt too thin to breathe.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he taunted, his voice thick with a dark, satisfied amusement. He swiped a finger against my sensitive center, and I let out an involuntary ragged gasp.

“Please,” I whispered, though I didn't know what I was begging for.

“Please, what?” He pressed, his thumb rubbing rhythmic circles against my clitoris, sending jolts of lightning straight to my core. “Tell me what you want, angel. Do you want the freedom? Do you want to see him crawl? Or do you want this?”

He slid two fingers inside me and my head lolled back, fingers gripping the edge of the desk hard. The sensation was explosive. It was too much yet I couldn't bear the thought of him stopping.

“I can give you the world,” he murmured, his breath hot against my neck, his lips grazing the pulse point there.

His pace picked up, his fingers moving with a rhythm that was driving me toward the edge. My hips began to rock against his hand, the friction mindless and desperate. My entire world narrowed down to the movement of his fingers, the strength of his arms caging me, the heat of his body radiating against mine.

“You’re almost there,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a rough growl. “You’re so close to losing control. But I need you to focus.”

He suddenly slowed his pace, the teasing drag of his touch sending frantic shivers down my spine. The frustration was maddening.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

I forced my eyes open, vision swimming, my cheeks flushed, my body arching toward him. He was watching me with an intensity that burned.

“I can give you everything,” he whispered, his finger hooked inside me, holding me in that agonizing, perfect tension. “But I need you to be mine first.”

I was desperate. The walls of my life were closing in, and here was a way out, a path forged in heat and ownership. My body was singing, screaming for the release he was withholding. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came, only a needy whimper.

Not waiting for my response, he leaned in, his mouth crashing onto mine in a kiss that was both a punishment and a claim. It was heated, demanding, a collision of teeth and tongue that tasted of whiskey and coffee. As he kissed me, his hand moved faster, firmer, his thumb pressing down, unrelenting.

My body spasmed, a wave of pleasure so intense it was almost painful. A high sound ripped from my throat and I shuddered against him. My fingers curled into his hair, pulling him closer as the world turned to white noise and starlight.

I hung in his arms, gasping for air, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his chest, the aftershocks rolling through me in waves of molten heat. He held me steady, his support unwavering, waiting until my breathing began to level out then he pulled back, his eyes dark with possessiveness, his thumb still tracing the wet, sensitive skin of my entrance.

"What do you say, angel?" he murmured, his gaze piercing into my soul. "Will you be mine?"