His By Contract

First Meeting

Elena's POV

The drive seemed endless.

I sat in the back seat with my forehead against the window, watching unfamiliar streets pass by. I had cried so much that my eyes hurt, but the tears still came. Neither of the men in the front spoke to me. They stayed silent the whole way, their expressions cold whenever I caught their reflection in the mirror.

I eventually stopped asking where we were going. I already knew.

Damian Cross.

The name repeated itself in my head over and over.

He's not a patient man. He doesn't forgive people who cross him. Whatever you do, don't get on his nerves.

I didn't know what to expect. A cruel man. Someone terrifying. Someone who would look at me and see nothing more than a debt.

The car eventually slowed. I lifted my head as tall iron gates opened in front of us. My eyes widened. The house ahead was enormous — more like a mansion than a house, surrounded by perfectly maintained gardens and a driveway that seemed to stretch forever.

The car stopped at the entrance. One of the men stepped out and opened my door.

"We're here."

I stared at the house, my stomach twisting. So this was where my new life was supposed to begin.

I slowly got out. Neither man said anything as they led me inside. Everything looked expensive — polished floors, elegant furniture, the whole place so quiet I could hear my own footsteps.

A woman appeared and led me upstairs. "This will be your room." She opened the door.

The room was beautiful. A large bed stood in the center, a sitting area by the window, a private bathroom. A wardrobe stood full of clothes I'd never seen before.

I stared at them. "They're for you."

"For me?"

She nodded and left without another word.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. I didn't want any of this. I wanted my own room. My own bed. My own life.

I wiped my cheeks and had no idea how long I'd been sitting there before I heard footsteps in the hall. The door opened without a knock.

I knew who it was before I even looked up.

Damian Cross.

He filled the doorway — tall, dressed in a dark suit that fit him like it had been made for exactly this purpose: to make a person feel small. His eyes swept the room once before landing on me, and I felt it like a hand closing around my throat.

I stood up before I realized I'd moved. I wasn't going to let him look down at me while I sat there like something waiting to be inspected.

"So you're Elena."

His voice was low, unhurried. Like he already knew everything he needed to know about me and was only confirming it out loud.

"And you're the man who bought me." The words came out sharper than I meant them to, but I didn't take them back.

Something flickered in his expression. Not anger. Something closer to mild interest, like I'd said something mildly unexpected.

"No one bought you."

"Really?" I let out a bitter laugh. "Then what would you call this? My father owed you money, and now I'm standing in your house because of it. Sounds like a transaction to me."

"It's an arrangement." His tone didn't change at all. "Your father made a deal. You're here until it's settled. Nothing more."

"Nothing more?" My voice cracked, and I hated myself for it. "You dragged me out of my house. Your men grabbed me like I was some kind of criminal. And you're standing there telling me it's nothing more?"

"I didn't drag you anywhere." He took a step further into the room, unbothered, like my anger was something he'd already accounted for. "That was your father's decision. Take it up with him."

"Don't." My hands curled into fists at my sides. "Don't act like you had nothing to do with this. You agreed to it. You could have said no."

"I could have." He held my gaze, steady, cold. "I didn't."

The honesty of it startled me more than a lie would have.

"Why?" The question slipped out before I could stop it. "Why would you agree to something like this?"

"Because your father owes me a significant amount of money, and this was the fastest way to guarantee I get it back." He said it plainly, like he was reading it off a contract. "I don't need a reason beyond that."

"So I'm just collateral to you."

"Yes."

The bluntness of it hit harder than if he'd tried to soften it.

"You could at least pretend this bothers you," I said, my voice shaking now. "Pretend you feel something about ruining a person's life for money you probably don't even need."

For the first time, something shifted behind his eyes — not guilt, not quite. Something more like mild curiosity, like I'd surprised him.

"I don't pretend," he said. "About anything."

"Then I guess we understand each other." I lifted my chin, refusing to let my voice break again. "Because I'm not going to pretend I'm okay with this either. I'm not going to smile for you. I'm not going to make this easy."

Something almost like the ghost of a smile crossed his mouth, gone before I could be sure I'd seen it.

"I never asked you to."

He turned toward the door, and just like that, the air in the room changed, like a held breath finally releasing.

"That's it?" I called after him, hating how much I needed to know. "You're just going to walk away?"

He paused in the doorway, glancing back at me.

"Dinner is at seven. Someone will come get you." A beat. "Don't make me come back for you myself."

It wasn't a threat, exactly. But it didn't need to be. The quiet certainty in his voice told me everything I needed to know about what would happen if I ignored it.

Then he was gone.

I stood there long after the door closed, my heart still pounding, my hands still shaking.

He hadn't yelled. He hadn't threatened me the way I'd expected. And somehow, that made him more frightening than if he had.

Because a man who raised his voice, I could have predicted.

A man that calm, that certain of everything, including me — I had no idea what he was capable of.

I sat back down on the edge of the bed and stared at the door.

Seven o'clock.

I had a feeling that was only the beginning of finding out exactly what I'd walked into.