I didn't say a word as Alexander escorted me out of the boardroom, onto the private elevator, and down to his waiting car. I couldn't speak. The heavy, antique diamond ring on my finger felt like it was burning a hole straight through my skin.
Fiancée.
The word echoed in my mind, a chaotic mixture of terror, disbelief, and an undeniable, forbidden thrill.
Alexander didn't take me back to my tiny apartment. He didn't even take me back to the sprawling estate by the water. Instead, the driver navigated to the very center of the city, pulling into the private underground garage of the tallest, most exclusive high-rise in the financial district. Alexander's primary residence. The penthouse.
He led me into a private elevator that opened directly into a space that defied imagination. It was
