Bound by the CEO’s Secret

The Memory of Glass

The morning light didn't reach the interior of the safe house. Instead, the room hummed with the artificial glow of security monitors and the rhythmic, deep breathing of the man lying inches away from me. Rosw’s hand was still heavy on my waist, a possessive anchor even in his sleep. I lay there for a long time, staring at the gray ceiling, realizing that for the first time in years, I wasn't just afraid of my father’s debts—I was afraid of the magnetic pull of my enemy.

I moved slowly, inch by inch, sliding out from under his touch. My heart hammered against my ribs, terrified he would wake up and read the guilt on my face. Once my feet hit the cold floor, I grabbed my discarded silk blazer and crept out of the bedroom.

The loft was silent. The screens in the living area showed the street outside—quiet, empty, but deceptively so. Arthur was nowhere to be seen, likely stationed in the garage level or monitoring the perimeter from a hidden room.

I had to think. If the Syndicate believed my father had those encrypted drives, and Rosw believed I was the key to finding them, then I needed to remember. My father, Silas Vance, was a man of patterns. He loved puzzles, double meanings, and hidden compartments.

“Lucian, remember that the most valuable things are always kept in plain sight, where the light can’t find their shadows.”

He had said that to me years ago, while we were in his summer estate in the Hamptons. But there was another place. A place Rosw hadn't mentioned.

I walked toward the kitchen area, searching for anything that could give me a lead. My eyes landed on Rosw’s briefcase, sitting on the marble counter. It was the same one he had used the night he forced me to sign the contract. My breath hitched. If I could just see the police reports or the inventory of my father’s seized assets...

I reached for the latch, my fingers trembling.

"Looking for something, Lucian?"

I jumped, spinning around so fast I nearly knocked the briefcase to the floor. Rosw was standing in the hallway, leaning against the doorframe. He was shirtless, wearing only his dark suit trousers. The scar on his back was partially visible, a jagged map of a violent past. His hair was ruffled, and his eyes—those stormy, gray eyes—were wide awake and lethal.

"I... I was just looking for a pen," I lied, my voice wavering. "I wanted to write down some things I remembered about my father's contacts."

Rosw walked toward me, his movements slow and deliberate, like a tiger stalking a gazelle. He didn't stop until he was inches away, forcing me to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. The heat coming off his body was overwhelming in the chilled air of the safe house.

"A pen," he repeated, his voice a low, dangerous purr. He reached out, his hand bypassing the briefcase and settling on the counter behind me, effectively trapping me. "You’re a terrible liar, Lucian. You were looking for a way out. Or perhaps, you were looking for a way to find those drives before I do."

"And if I was?" I challenged, my defiance flaring up. "You’re using me as a pawn. Why shouldn't I try to find the one thing that could buy my freedom from you and the Syndicate?"

Rosw leaned down, his face so close I could see the flecks of silver in his irises. "Because the moment you touch those drives, you become a dead woman walking. The Syndicate doesn't negotiate with individuals; they harvest. As long as you are with me, as my wife, you are part of a larger machine they aren't ready to break. On your own? You wouldn't last an hour."

He reached out and traced the line of my jaw with his thumb, his touch lingering on my lower lip. "Now, tell me. What did you remember? And don't lie to me again."

I swallowed hard. "My father had a cabin. Not the summer house everyone knows about. A small place in the Adirondacks. He called it 'The Glass House' because it was built on the edge of an old quarry. He used to go there when he was 'stressed'. He never took me, but he always kept a key in an old music box in my childhood bedroom."

Rosw’s eyes sharpened. "The Adirondacks. Why didn't the SEC find it?"

"It’s not in his name. It’s under a holding company called 'L.V. Heritage'. I always thought the 'L.V.' stood for Lucian Vance, a sort of twisted birthday gift he never gave me."

Rosw straightened up, his mind already working through the logistics. "Arthur!" he shouted.

A second later, Arthur appeared at the top of the stairs, looking as if he hadn't slept at all. "Sir?"

"Get the secondary SUV ready. We’re moving. Lucian just gave us a destination. And call the tactical team—I want eyes on the L.V. Heritage holdings immediately."

"Wait!" I cried out. "You can't just go there and tear it apart. If the Syndicate is watching the holding companies, they’ll see you moving."

Rosw turned back to me, a dark, predatory smile on his lips. "That’s why we aren't going as an army, Lucian. We’re going as a couple on a 'belated honeymoon'. The press will eat it up, and the Syndicate will think we’re just hiding away to celebrate our union. It’s the perfect cover."

"A honeymoon? In a cabin?"

"In a fortress," he corrected. He stepped closer again, his hand moving to the back of my neck, drawing me toward him until our chests touched. The tension was so thick I could almost taste it. "You’re going to play the part of the devoted wife perfectly, Lucian. Because if we find those drives, I might just consider shortening your contract."

"And if we don't?"

Rosw’s gaze dropped to my lips, and for a terrifying second, I thought he was going to kiss me right there, amidst the monitors and the concrete walls. "Then we’ll be stuck in that cabin for a very long time. And I assure you, I can think of many ways to pass the time that don't involve searching for data drives."

He let go of me and headed toward the bedroom to get dressed. I stood there, my heart racing, looking at the diamond on my finger. I was leading him to the only thing that could save me, but I was also leading him into the heart of my father’s secrets.

As I went to pack the few things the stylists had brought, I noticed a small detail on the monitors. A black car had stopped at the end of the alley. It wasn't the silver sedan.

A man stepped out, looked directly at the hidden camera, and raised a hand. In his palm was a single black feather.

My breath caught. It wasn't the silver feather of the Syndicate. It was the mark of the Raven.

Was Rosw being followed by his own people? Or was there another "Raven" in the shadows, waiting to take back what Rosw had claimed as his own?

"Lucian! Let’s go!" Rosw’s voice boomed from the bedroom.

I grabbed my bag and hurried toward him, the weight of the secret growing heavier with every step. We were leaving the city, heading into the mountains, but I knew the darkness was following us. And in the Adirondacks, there would be no one to hear me scream if the man I was married to turned out to be the very monster I feared the most.