I thought my life was going to forever **change** after that accident. I should've been waiting for police to break into my apartment any moment, for Sebastian to demand money from me to keep quiet. But I felt no fear or worry.
I trusted Christian to handle it completely, so I'd lived carefree, as if it were already resolved behind closed doors and I didn't know about it.
I'd just been slacking off, making the most of summer break. I'd turned 19 a few days ago and already felt like an old lady.
My disheveled blond curls nearly blocked my vision as they tumbled over my face while I got out of bed.
I couldn't find my other white sock, so I slipped a blue one onto the other foot and shuffled to the kitchen for milk and cereal.
I stood eating at the counter. *Good for the bones*, I coached myself in a pep-talk tone, but truthfully, it felt amazing to have no orders or expectations for a few days. Then the bell rang. I turned to look, blue eyes curious, spoon dangling from my mouth.
The doorbell didn't always mean trouble, but with my friends away on a trip and Dad gone on a date minutes earlier, it couldn't be good.
I walked to the door, my feet growing heavier with each step. *Better get this over with*. I swung it open. A bald man in a suit met my gaze, a red dress draped over his arm. "Excuse me, you've got the wrong house. I don't remember ordering anything," I said, scratching my head.
"Miss Meritt, I'm here on behalf of Mr. Marasco. I've been sent to deliver his gift and escort you to his mansion, where you'll join him for his club's opening."
"But how does he know my size?" I asked, fighting to contain my shock—and excitement.
The bald man lifted his hand to chest level. "He made this gesture to the tailor. It seems he's memorized your proportions."
I blushed at the thought, smiling despite myself. I took the dress, still wrapped in its bag, and muttered, "Okay, one moment," before shutting the door. Then I immediately sank to the floor, screaming silently, legs kicking the air. *OMG, this wasn't all a dream. He actually wants to see me again!*
Then reality struck. Eyes wide, I thought, *shit, I gotta fix my hair and do my makeup*. I shot up from the floor, bolting to the bathroom, socks skidding across the cold tiles in my frantic dash.
But then, my reflection stilled me. No makeup, yet my skin looked soft, glowing almost, and my eyes… not tired, not dull, but brilliant. Too big, too innocent. Nothing a flick of mascara wouldn't fix.
No blush needed either; I was already burning, my face flushed the moment he so much as crossed my mind.
My hair was the real tragedy, seeing as I'd just crawled out of bed — in the late evening, no less. A quick fluff and maybe, just maybe, it could pass. I never combed it, always letting the curls fall wild and free, but tonight they needed a little help.
*Maybe lipstick too*. It always drove me crazy when Christian's gaze dropped to my mouth, and I wanted to hand him every reason to stare. To watch his eyes darken, to mark that beautiful, wicked face of his with my kisses.
*God,* I thought as I smacked my lips together, spreading the color, and laughed at how wild my thoughts sounded. The red made my teeth flash bright and sharp.
I slipped into the red dress like it was always meant for me. Kicked off my socks. Slid sharp, red pointy heels on my feet. The contrast between the rich, ornate dress and my barely-there makeup was stark, but it worked.
*A small-town belle ruined by the kingpin of the ball. Is that what they'd whisper?* I spun in front of the mirror, watching the translucent fabric flutter slightly, tracing every careful stitch and shimmer. Let them talk. Whatever they say, not one of them could deny — it looked nothing short of breathtaking on me.
As I opened the door, even the stern henchman couldn't hide the small smile I noticed on his lips. He opened the van limo door for me, bidding me to step inside. I lifted my dress as I hopped into the car, careful not to let the hem skid on the road, and slid into the seat just as he closed the door.
The cabin was sleek and spacious. Leather squeaked as I sat cross-legged, and a soft glow lit the ceiling. Outside, the windows were tinted so dark they made even my house look like a set from an '80s romance movie—back when Hollywood films had depth and personality.
My upturned nose twitched. Christian's scent filled the entire van, that intoxicating cologne instantly recognizable. My heart fluttered every time I inhaled. *Of course it smells like him—it's his car*. But this was different. Closer. More intimate.
"You look ravishing," a voice whispered in my ear, making my heart skip. I could feel him standing behind me, hot breath on my neck. "But it's not complete yet. There's one piece missing."
His hands—big and rugged—held a dazzling diamond-encrusted necklace, Burmese rubies nestled between each row. It shimmered under the cabin's glow, leaving me breathless.
"May I?" His voice hummed behind me, hands paused midair with the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I couldn't reply without muttering, so I raised my arms, lifting my blonde curls and tilting my neck forward in silent surrender.
He lowered the necklace. I flinched as the diamond droplets settled against the curves of my cleavage, barely stifling a laugh of disbelief. *No man buys a woman he barely knows something like this. I must mean something to him*.
His finger pressed a button on the marble control panel near my seat, and the chair rotated slowly, forcing me to face the man wrecking my nerves.
I glanced up as he loomed over me, hands braced on the seat like I needed to clutch something to stay upright—even though I was already sitting.
His eyes softened the moment they met mine, crinkling with laugh lines at the edges. I must've looked ridiculous, dolled up exactly as he wanted, but I didn't care. I could drown in those hooded brown eyes.
His gaze scrutinized every detail: my wide blue eyes locked on him, my twitching nose savoring his scent, my quivering lower lip…
"This is too much," I blurted. He raised an eyebrow, probably thinking I meant his staring. "All these fancy things—the ride, the dress, the jewelry. I've never had any of this, and I don't expect it from anyone."
"You'll get used to it. It suits no one else better," he said, his voice so charming I almost relented.
"But it must've cost a fortune." I cupped the diamond-and-ruby necklace, tilting the pendant. The final Burmese ruby was heart-shaped, a natural formation if I'd ever seen one. I'd spotted similar pieces in magazines. They cost more than my house! This wasn't right.
But Christian crouched to face me, fingers tucking a stray golden curl behind my ear as he stared into my eyes. "What else would fit a woman whose every flash of presence in my life leaves me stunned every time? Besides, you'll need its sparkle to blind the paparazzi."
"Paparazzi?"
Before he could answer, the limo door swung open. He took my hand and led me onto a red carpet. Commotion erupted. Camera flashes assaulted my vision. I threw up a hand to shield my eyes, then buried my face against Christian's arm, clinging to him as we hurried into the club.
We stepped inside, but a sly, pompous voice snagged my attention.
"Mr. Marasco, congratulations on acquiring the club from Casa Savoia. Negotiations must've been… tense. I've tried to buy it for years, and they refused. Prime location."
"Seems Christian always gets what he wants," I said.
The woman raked me with an assessing stare, adjusting her fox fur coat—worn defiantly in midsummer heat.
"We need to go," Christian said curtly.
"What's the rush?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Who's she?" I whispered.
"Marina Grandeur. Owns hotels and specializes in ambushing busy people," he replied flatly.
*Holy hell—the* Miss Grandeur. Her name plastered every luxury hotel in the city. Marie had gushed about her fashion brand's debut "taking the industry by storm," not that I'd noticed. I wasn't into high fashion.
"A pleasure to meet you. Always inspiring to see successful women," I said, offering my hand.
She ignored it. "That accent… Turin? Southeast of France? Seems you didn't just take the club from the Savoys," she sneered, arms crossed, a finger pressed to her cheek.
"I was raised in the States, but I guess I picked up my dad's northern accent." A lump tightened my throat, the room suddenly suffocating. Christian's hand closed around mine, warmth flooding me as Miss Grandeur arched a razor-thin eyebrow.
A flicker of anger darkened Christian's face. *Was he annoyed with me? Did I embarrass him?*
"Since our paths keep *crossing*," Marina purred, sipping her cocktail, lashes fluttering at him, "and we're both expanding into clubs… why not partner up? A private meeting, perhaps?" Nausea coiled in my gut. *Why did I agree to come here?*
I tried to sneak my arm from Christian's arm, but his grip tightened on my hand, tension simmering beneath his calm. "Miss Grandeur," he said, voice low and lethal, "do you know what happens to those who insult what's mine? Miss Meritt is *my* woman. Anyone who looks down on her will soon find out he was blinded."
"Excuse me?" Marina hissed. One of her bodyguards stepped forward, but a single glare from Christian froze him mid-stride.
"You're excused," Christian said, steering me past her as he pushed her to the side with a dismissive arm.
I stared straight ahead, biting my cheek to keep from bursting into laughter at her stunned silence. *He just humiliated the most powerful woman in New York… for me?* I wanted to claw his shirt off and kiss him until neither of us could breathe.