His to Breed

CHAPTER 3

The penthouse had a gym. A pool. A home theater. A wine cellar that probably cost more than my father's entire life. And apparently, a full-time staff that moved like ghosts, silent, efficient, and gone before you could ask them anything.

I found that out at seven in the morning, when I walked into the kitchen in the robe and found a woman in a crisp uniform setting out breakfast. She didn't look surprised to see me. She didn't look anything at all. Just nodded, said, "Mrs. Blackwood," and disappeared before I could ask her name.

I stood there in the middle of the kitchen, alone, in a house that wasn't mine, wearing a robe that wasn't mine, married to a man who wasn't mine. And I thought: this is what I signed up for. Twelve months of being a ghost in someone else's life.

No. I shook it off. I wasn't going to do that. I wasn't going to feel sorry for myself. I'd made a deal. I'd known what I was doing.

Mostly. I'd stay, I'd play the wife, I'd try for the heir, and I'd get out with my family intact. That was the plan. That was always the plan.

I found Damien in his office. Of course he had an office. The whole east wing was probably offices. He was at his desk, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, staring at a screen as if it had personally offended him. He didn't look up when I came in.

"Good morning," I said, sharp. "I see you're already hard at work. Very romantic. I hope the merger appreciates your dedication."

He looked up then. That flat, cold look. The one that said I was an interruption. A cost. A line item.

"You're up early."

"I'm a morning person." I walked in, sat down in the chair across from his desk, crossed my legs. "Also, I couldn't sleep. The bed's too big. And my husband keeps disappearing before I wake up. Very traditional. Very loving."

His jaw tightened. The little c***k. I was learning to read him. The flat face, the cold eyes — but the jaw gave him away. Every time I hit something, the jaw tightened. I was keeping score.

"You have questions," he said. Not a question. A statement. Like he'd already decided this conversation was going to happen whether he liked it or not.

"I have a lot of questions." I leaned back. "And I want answers. Real ones. Not the contract. Not the addendum. I want to know how this actually works."

He set his pen down. Slowly. Deliberately. Like he was deciding whether I was worth the time. I watched him decide. And I saw the moment he decided I was — the little shift, the tiny c***k — and I filed it away. He was curious. Good. Curious was dangerous.

Curious was how you got leverage.

"Ask."

"First." I held up one finger. "What happens at the end of twelve months? If I get pregnant. If I don't. What's the exit?"

His eyes flickered. Something moved behind them. Something I couldn't read yet.

"If you conceive within the year, the contract continues until the child is born. Then it terminates. You get a settlement. You walk away clean."

"And if I don't conceive?"

The pause. Just long enough. I caught it.

"Then the contract voids. You walk away. Your family's debt comes due."

"And you?" I tilted my head. "What happens to you? No heir, no merger. What happens to Damien Blackwood?"

He looked at me for a long moment. And for the first time, I saw something real in his face. Something that wasn't cold, wasn't flat, wasn't a line item. Something almost like... respect.

"You're asking the right questions." He said it quietly. Like he was surprised. "Most people wouldn't."

"I'm not most people." I said it flat. "And I'm not stupid. You hid a clause from me. I'm not going to let you hide anything else. So tell me. What happens to you?"

"The merger falls through." He said it like it was nothing. Like it wasn't his whole empire. "The board pulls their offer. The company takes a hit. I take a hit. I survive. I always survive."

"Always?" I raised an eyebrow. "That's a long time to always, Mr. Blackwood. Everyone loses eventually."

His eyes met mine. Something sharp. Something almost like a warning.

"Not me."

I stared at him. And I thought: there it is. That's the c***k. That's the thing he can't hide. He's not afraid of losing the merger. He's afraid of losing control. Of something he can't put in a contract, can't buy, can't command. And that? That was leverage. That was the thing I could use.

"Okay." I leaned forward. "Second question. What are the rules? The real rules. Not the contract. The ones you didn't write down. Do I go anywhere? Do I see anyone? Am I allowed to have a life, or am I just the wife who lives in the tower?"

"You have a car. A driver. Cards. You can go where you want." He said it flat. "Within reason."

"Within reason." I repeated it. Tasting it. "What does that mean? You're going to have me followed? Tracked?"

"You're my wife." He said it like that explained everything. "You're a liability. Until the merger goes through, you're the most visible thing in my life. You think I'm going to let you wander off and get photographed doing something stupid?"

"So I'm under surveillance." I said it flat. "Great. Very romantic. I always dreamed of a husband who'd have me watched."

"It's not surveillance." His jaw tightened. "It's protection. There are people who want to hurt me. People who'd use you to get to me. You're not a prisoner, Sienna. You're a target."

The word landed. Target. I hadn't thought of it that way. I'd thought of myself as a prop, a cost, a line item. Not a target. That was different. That was dangerous in a way I hadn't signed up for.

"Who?" I asked. Quiet. "Who wants to hurt you?"

He looked at me for a long moment. And I saw him decide. Again. The little shift. The c***k. He was going to tell me something real.

"There's a man named Victor Kane." He said it low. Flat. "He used to be my partner. He thinks I stole the company from him. He's been trying to take it back for three years. He's patient. He's smart. And he's ruthless."

"And you think he'd come after me?" I asked. "To get to you?"

"I know he would." He said it flat. "Because I would. If I were him, and I needed leverage, I'd take the wife. The new, visible, unprotected wife. The one nobody knows yet. The one who doesn't know the rules."

I stared at him. And suddenly, the penthouse felt smaller. The glass walls felt thinner. The whole beautiful, cold, expensive cage felt like a target painted on my back.

"So this isn't just a contract." I said it slowly. Working it out. "This is a fortress. You didn't just need a wife for the merger. You needed someone to protect. Someone visible. Someone to draw the fire."

His eyes met mine. And he didn't deny it.

"You're smarter than I expected." He said it quietly. "That's either going to save you or get you killed."

I stood up. Slow. I walked around his desk. Close. The way I had last night. The way I had in the kitchen. I leaned in, my hands on his desk, my face close to his.

"Then you'd better make sure I learn the rules fast, Mr. Blackwood." I said it low. Close. "Because I'm not dying for your merger. I'm not dying for your empire. I'm not dying for a man who hid a clause in a contract and called it love."

His eyes went dark. His jaw tight. And for a second, I thought I'd pushed too far.

Then his hand shot out, grabbed my wrist, yanked me down onto his lap. My breath caught. My heart slammed. And I was looking up at him, close, too close, his hand around my wrist like a brand.

"Then learn them." His voice was low. Rough. Different. "Rule one: you don't leave this building without my driver. Rule two: you don't talk to anyone about us, about me, about this marriage, without my say-so. Rule three:" his grip tightened. "You don't go anywhere alone. Not yet. Not until I know Kane's not watching you."

"And rule four?" I breathed.

He looked at me. His eyes dark. His thumb tracing my wrist. Slow. Deliberate.

"Rule four: you trust me. Even when you hate me. Especially when you hate me. Because your life might depend on it."

I stared at him. And I hated him. I hated him so much. But I also believed him. And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

"Fine." I said it like a curse. "Fine. I'll learn your rules. I'll play your game. But you remember this, Damien." I leaned in. My mouth at his ear. My voice low. Sharp. "The day this contract ends, I walk. And you don't get to follow."

His grip tightened on my wrist. A warning. A promise.

"We'll see."

And I kissed him. Hard. Like a challenge. Like a dare. Like a declaration of war. And he kissed me back like he wanted to win.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard it. The countdown. Twelve months. Tick. Tick. Tick.

And now there was a name attached to the danger. Victor Kane. The man who wanted to hurt my husband. The man who'd use me to get to him.

I didn't know yet that he was going to be the least of my problems.