Mistaken Vows, Dangerous Love

Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Terms and Conditions

The burner phone in Nora’s hand felt like a live wire.

Poison Adrian Voss’s drink in ten minutes, or her brother dies tonight.

Before she could even process the horror of the demand, the screen blinked. A follow-up text message popped onto the display:

[I’M WATCHING.]

Nora dropped the phone onto the leather seat as if it had burned her. Her hands shook violently. She looked out the window, scanning the passing city streets. Who was watching? Her handlers? Or someone else entirely?

The Rolls-Royce finally pulled to a smooth stop inside a secure, underground parking garage. Nora looked up through the glass at the monolithic structure looming above them.

Voss Tower. The heart of his empire.

Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. “Open the door,” she demanded, her voice cracking slightly.

The driver didn’t respond. But a sharp, electronic click echoed through the cabin as the locks finally released.

Nora didn’t wait another second. She pushed the heavy door open and stepped out, her heels clicking sharply against the polished concrete. She spun around to confront the driver, but a deep, commanding voice from the shadows stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Inside.”

Nora froze, a chill racing down her spine.

Adrian Voss stood a few feet away, stepping out from a private elevator bay. His tuxedo jacket was gone, his dark silk tie loosened slightly at the collar, and his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms. He looked entirely unbothered, as if he hadn't just forced a stranger into a binding marriage ten minutes ago.

“You followed us?” she asked, quickly smoothing down the front of her heavy wedding gown to hide her trembling knees.

“I don’t follow,” Adrian replied coldly, his piercing dark eyes locking onto hers. “I arrive.”

Her jaw tightened. “Of course you do.”

He gestured toward the open elevator doors behind him. “Walk.”

Nora crossed her arms, anchoring her feet to the concrete. “Give me one good reason why I should take another step with you.”

Adrian didn’t raise his voice. He didn't have to. “Your brother’s heart monitor is currently wired to a private clinic fully funded by my corporation. Is that reason enough, Valentina?”

The threat hit her like a physical blow. The hidden phone in her dress pocket felt heavier than ever. Nora swallowed her pride, forced her chin up, and walked past him into the elevator.

The ascent to the penthouse was silent and dizzyingly fast. The private elevator featured floor-to-ceiling glass walls, offering a sprawling view of the city skyline, but Nora’s attention was fixed on the blinking red light of a security camera in the upper corner.

“Paranoid?” she asked, desperate to break the suffocating silence.

“Careful,” Adrian corrected, not even looking at her.

“It’s the same thing.”

“Not even close. Paranoia is an irrational fear.” Adrian turned his head slowly, his gaze pinning her against the glass wall. “Caution is knowing exactly how many people want you dead, and ensuring they never get the chance.”

A soft chime echoed as the elevator doors slid open, revealing a sprawling, ultra-modern penthouse. The space was magnificent but sterile—minimalist furniture, cold marble floors, and no signs of life.

“No staff?” Nora asked, stepping out onto the cold marble.

“They are not needed, nor are they permitted here after dark,” Adrian said, walking past her into a grand hallway. “This is the living area. The dining suite is to your left. And down this corridor is the master wing.”

He stopped at a pair of massive double doors. “My quarters. Which, as per your contract, are now your quarters as well. You will sleep in my bed.”

Nora let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “You’re joking. You expect me to just—what—perform for you?”

“I expect you to fulfill a legal obligation,” Adrian said smoothly. He stepped up to a sleek mahogany desk, picked up a thick leather file, and tossed it onto the surface between them. “Read.”

“I already signed the marriage certificate,” Nora said, refusing to touch the file.

“That was your first mistake,” Adrian countered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your handlers signed a contract on your behalf. But this is the addendum you will follow if you want to survive the year.”

Nora hesitated, then stepped forward and flipped the file open. Her eyes scanned the clauses rapidly, her blood turning to ice as she read the bold print.

“This isn’t what I agreed to,” she whispered, looking up at him. “It says here I am completely restricted to this property. I have to attend public galas as your doting wife, answer to your every command, and I’m barred from contacting anyone from my past.”

“You will play the part of Valentina Laurent flawlessly,” Adrian dictated, his voice dropping an octave. “You will smile when I tell you to smile. You will speak when spoken to. And you will never ask about the woman whose place you took.”

Nora tilted her head, trying to find a crack in his armor. “The real Valentina… the bride who ran away from you. What did you do to her?”

Adrian’s expression hardened into granite. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them until Nora could feel the heat radiating from his chest.

“Careful, little bird,” he warned softly. “Or I will remind you exactly what a worthless currency your compliance is. If you refuse these terms, your brother’s treatment ends tonight. If you try to run, the police will receive an anonymous tip containing the exact coordinates of the felony fraud you just committed.”

Nora’s hand trembled against the edge of the desk. He had her completely trapped.

“And if I survive this nightmare for a year?” she whispered. “What then?”

Adrian’s eyes dropped briefly to her lips, a dark, unreadable emotion flashing through his gaze before he looked back into her eyes. “If you behave… in exactly one year, I will grant you a divorce, a clean record, and ten million dollars to secure your brother's future. I will let you go.”

Nora let out a bitter breath. “You really think I’d stay a single second longer than necessary?”

“No,” Adrian murmured, leaning in until his breath brushed against her ear. “In fact, I think you’ll try to escape me long before the year is up.”

“And if I try?”

“You’ll fail.” The absolute certainty in his voice was terrifying. He pulled back, his eyes drilling into hers. “And if you fail to behave, I will show you exactly what the media means when they call me ruthless.”

Without another word, Adrian turned on his heel and walked out of the suite, closing the heavy doors behind him and leaving her alone in the massive master bedroom.

Nora collapsed against the edge of the bed, her heart hammering wildly. She looked around the room. A massive walk-in closet was already completely stocked with designer clothes—all in her exact size. A vanity table was covered in her favorite brands.

This wasn’t a last-minute backup plan because the real bride ran away. This was entirely orchestrated. He had planned for her to be here.

“He chose me,” Nora whispered to herself, horror dawning on her.

Suddenly, her eyes landed on a silver tray on the nightstand. Sitting on it was a crystal decanter of whiskey and a single glass. Adrian’s nightcap.

Her heart leaped into her throat. The burner phone in her pocket vibrated once more. The ten minutes were almost up. She had to choose right now: poison her new husband, or let her brother die.

Terrified and needing air, Nora rushed toward the glass balcony doors, sliding them open. Cold night air rushed into the room, whipping her veil around her face. She stepped out onto the terrace, eighty floors above the glittering city below.

She gripped the stone railing, looking down at the deadly drop, her mind spinning in pure panic. There is always a way out. Think, Nora, think!

Click.

Behind her, the balcony doors suddenly slid shut and locked automatically.

Nora spun around, her back slamming against the stone railing. Step by step, a towering silhouette emerged from the shadows of the dark terrace. It wasn't Adrian.

The figure stepped into the moonlight, pulling a silenced pistol from beneath his jacket and pointing it straight at her chest.

“You’re out of time, Nora,” the man whispered through a face mask. “You didn't poison the drink. Now, you have two choices. Jump… or I put a bullet between your eyes.”