Billionaire's Hidden Vows

chapter 3

THE FIRST ENCOUNTER IN PRIVATE

Emilia hardly slept the night following Adrian Cross's command. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him - those piercing gray eyes, the cool brutality in his voice, the assurance with which he proclaimed her future as if she were already his. Her thoughts were mirrored by the storm outside her window: unrelenting, roaring, and unavoidable. She was tired but defiant by morning. She promised herself that she would not be coerced into submitting. She would save Hart Industries in another way. She had to. But her dad was a ghost. With his shoulders hunched, he walked through the house without a word, avoiding her eyes. She understood his thoughts. That the offer made by Adrian Cross was not an offer at all. It was survival because a lifeline was hanging prior to the drowning. But Emilia refused to sink silently. When he knocked on her bedroom door that afternoon, she assumed it was her father. The butler's tremulous voice startled her. Miss Hart Mr. Cross is paying you a visit. Her heart pounded. Here, exactly? With wide, seemingly terrified eyes, the butler nodded. in the study. For a time, she remained motionless. Adrian Cross in her home. Before he returned to ask her a question, she had thought she would at least have until the evening. But he hadn't waited, of course. Adrian was a man who took without hesitation. With her shoulders squared, Emilia strode down the long hallway, her footsteps echoing off the marble floors. Adrian waited in what felt more like a cage than a safe house. The study's door was open. She opened it slowly. And there he was. Adrian stood near the fireplace, one hand in his pocket, the other gripping a crystal tumbler of her father's finest scotch. He seemed very at ease, as if the Hart house were just another piece of property he had already bought. His eyes glinted like steel in the darkness, and the flames cast a shadow over his sharp jawline. When she walked in, he turned his head and his lips curled into a small smirk. Miss Hart. Emilia's heart was pounding, but she held her voice steady. You weren't invited. Adrian swirled his tumbler of amber liquid, unconcerned. For me, invitations are not required. The arrogance in his speech infuriated her. She shut the door behind her, perhaps too hard, and the sound echoed around the room. He raised a brow, unruffled. That's what I do. He kept his gaze on her as he took a cautious sip. It works, too. Emilia crossed her arms, struggling to hold his attention. Not with me. The smirk grew somewhat, but his eyes sharpened. Do you think you are special? As he set it on the mantel, the tiny clink of the glass sounded loud in the quiet. You believe that you can simply enter people's homes, their lives, and what? Give them orders? I've broken stronger men than your father, Emilia. Entire businesses could be brought down by a single phone call. Are you really under the impression that you can ignore me and get away with it? Her throat tightened, but she didn't flinch. I don't believe you can take my life as your own. For the first time, something glinted in his face something sharp, something perilous, but not quite vicious. He stepped in their direction, drawing them nearer. She was hit instantly by the force of him. He radiated strength and authority and was larger and wider. Her body reacted before her mind could process the realization, sending a shiver down her spine. Property, he whispered in a soft, low voice. Do you believe this to be that? A deal? An agreement to possess you? She raised her chin in defiance. Isn't it? There was a long pause. His eyes moved across her face, lingering on her lips and then back to her eyes. Emilia, no. This has nothing to do with ownership. His voice brushed against her skin like a promise and a threat as he leaned slightly closer. Desire is at play here. Additionally, I keep what I want. Unbidden and infuriating, her breath caught. Even though her mind cried out to fight him, she detested the way her body had betrayed her and the heat that gathered in the pit of her stomach. Sharp and brittle, she forced a laugh. Want? I'm not even familiar to you. His mouth curled into something darker this time. Yes, but I do. I've been aware of you for years. The obedient girl. The rebel in my heart. The girl whose father's name kept her shackled despite her desire for freedom. You don't realize how long you've been on my radar. Her heart skipped, dread and disbelief at odds. You're telling lies. Am I? His eyes shone brightly. I could identify the color of the dress you wore three years ago to the Fairchild gala. You left early because you didn't like how all the men in the room looked at you like you were a prize. She opened her mouth in surprise. He was telling the truth. He was unable to be. Adrian moved closer, his voice a menacing murmur, his breath now mixing with hers. Emilia, I'm intrigued by you. And I take it when I find something interesting. Regardless of how long it takes. Her body froze. She wanted to yell at him, slap him, and push him away. But, God willing, she also wanted to experience what it would be like to let him touch her. She clenched her fists at her sides and ground herself in anger. You're a monster. He returned the smile, keen and knowing. Perhaps. But I am the monster that preserves your whole world. Keep it in mind. The mantel clock ticked loudly between them. Finally, Adrian stepped back and picked up his glass, as though nothing had happened. He took a cautious sip, his composure once again flawless. Twenty-four hours, Emilia. That's all you got. Choose wisely. With finality, he put down the glass and walked past her to the door. The blaze of his presence raged through her skin, mind, and soul long after he had left. As the door shut, Emilia pressed her trembling hands to the desk for support. The contract, Adrian's ultimatum, and her father's debts were all snares. And caught between duty and desire, she was the bait. But one thing was clear through the mist: Adrian Cross wanted her. Not just as leverage. Not just as a pawn. He wanted her. Furthermore, his cautions might not be as dire as that.