VOWS WRITTEN IN BLOOD

The first rule Iris Holloway learned as an investigative ghostwriter was simple: If a powerful man invites you into his home, he already knows who you are. Still, she hadn’t expected Sebastian Crowe to be waiting. He stood at the center of the marble-floored hall as if the house itself had been built around him tall, motionless, dressed in black that absorbed the light instead of reflecting it. The chandelier above cast fractured shadows across his face, sharp enough to make him look carved rather than born. Alive, but not warm. Iris stopped just inside the doorway, the heavy doors closing behind her with a sound that echoed too long. “You’re early,” she said coolly, buying time. Sebastian Crowe tilted his head, dark eyes unreadable. “You’re late,” he replied. Her lips curved into a smile she didn’t feel. “Your assistant said seven.” “It is seven.” That was when she noticed there was no assistant. No staff. No footsteps. No sound but the low hum of electricity running through a house that felt more like a fortress than a home. A warning bell rang in her head. She slid her bag higher on her shoulder. “If this is about the interview, I can reschedule.” “There is no interview,” Sebastian said. “There never was.” He took a step toward her. Just one but the air shifted, heavy and oppressive, as if the walls leaned in to listen. “I invited you here,” he continued, “because you made a mistake.” Iris stiffened. “I don’t make mistakes.” “You do,” he said calmly. “You just hide them well.” Her heart slammed once against her ribs. She had used three identities in the past year alone. None of them led back to Iris Holloway. None of them connected her to the exposé currently sitting encrypted on five different servers—an exposé that would burn Sebastian Crowe’s empire to the ground. “No idea what you’re talking about,” she said. He smiled then. Not kindly. Not cruelly. Possessively. “You ghostwrote the Novak scandal,” he said. “The Helios Foundation leak. The Virelli trial.” Each name hit like a blow. Her fingers went numb. “Your style is subtle,” Sebastian continued. “You let your sources believe they’re in control. You never publish under your own name. You disappear before the fallout.” He stopped an arm’s length away. “But you underestimated me.” Iris met his gaze, refusing to step back. “If you’re trying to scare me” “I’m trying to save you,” he interrupted. That was when she laughed. A sharp, brittle sound that bounced off marble and steel. “Save me from what?” she asked. Sebastian turned and walked toward a long table at the side of the room. He picked up a slim black folder and slid it across the polished surface toward her. “From this.” She didn’t touch it at first. Then she did. Inside were photographs. Bank transfers. Names crossed out in red. Dates she recognized. And one image that made her breath stop completely. A body. Wrapped in plastic. A familiar face one of her sources. One who had sworn he’d fled the country. “He didn’t,” Sebastian said softly. “He tried to sell the same information twice.” Iris’s throat tightened. “You killed him?” Sebastian’s gaze hardened. “I didn’t have to.” Silence stretched. “You came too close,” he said. “Close enough to uncover something that doesn’t belong to you.” Her mind raced. “If you think this scares me into silence” “I don’t need silence,” he said. She looked up sharply. “I need control.” The word settled between them like a blade laid gently on skin. “I could have you disappear tonight,” Sebastian continued. “No one would ask questions. You don’t officially exist.” Her fingers curled around the folder. “Then why haven’t you?” “Because death is inefficient.” Her stomach dropped. Sebastian leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “And because I have a better solution.” He gestured toward the far end of the hall. Another door opened. Inside was a study dark wood, leather chairs, and a single document laid neatly at the center of the desk. A contract. Iris walked toward it slowly, every instinct screaming at her to run. “What is this?” she asked. “A marriage agreement.” She froze. Then she laughed again, louder this time. “You’re insane.” “Possibly,” Sebastian said. “But you’re still reading.” And she was. One year. Public marriage. Shared residence. Non-disclosure clauses that could choke a nation. In exchange, her exposé would never see the light of day and neither would she. “You want a wife,” Iris said flatly. “I want a shield,” Sebastian replied. “A name beside mine that makes enemies hesitate. A presence that turns rumors into fiction.” She looked up. “And if I refuse?” His gaze didn’t waver. “Then everything you’ve uncovered goes public with your name attached.” Cold understanding spread through her chest. He wasn’t silencing her. He was weaponizing her. “You’d destroy your own empire,” she said. “No,” Sebastian replied. “I’d reshape it.” Iris slammed the folder shut. “You think I’ll sell myself to you?” His eyes darkened not with anger, but something far worse. Interest. “You already walked into my house,” he said quietly. “You already know too much.” She swallowed. “There will be rules.” “There always are,” he said. “No love,” she said firmly. “No trust. No touching unless absolutely necessary.” A pause. Then Sebastian smiled. “Of course,” he said. “I wouldn’t dream of crossing lines.” But the way he looked at her made it painfully clear He already had. Iris stared at the contract, her signature line waiting like an open wound. She had come here to destroy a monster. Instead, she was about to marry one. And the most terrifying part? Somewhere deep inside her Something whispered that she was already his.