Bound to the Billionaire's Revenge

The Return of the Thief The wind off the Hudson was sharp enough to cut skin. Ava Harper hugged her threadbare coat tighter and stared up at the black-glass monolith that stabbed the Manhattan sky. Blackwell Tower. Seventy-seven floors of the most expensive floors in the city and every single one belonged to the man she had once sworn to love forever. She was five years too late for forever. The lobby swallowed her whole, marble so polished it reflected her like a ghost, security guards in bespoke suits who looked at her cheap boots like they were an insult. She gave her name at the desk. The receptionist’s red nails paused over the keyboard. Seventy-seventh floor, the woman said, eyes flicking over Ava’s worn coat. Mr. Blackwell is expecting you. Of course he was. The private elevator shot upward so fast her stomach stayed on the ground floor. When the doors slid open, there was only one direction to go forward, down a hallway lined with abstract art that probably cost more than most people’s houses. The corner office doors stood open like a mouth. Lucian Blackwell hadn’t turned around yet. He stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands in the pockets of a charcoal suit that fit him like it had been sewn onto his body. The city sprawled behind him, glittering and submissive. Snow flurries danced against the glass, but inside it was warm, too warm. Ava felt sweat prickle under her arms even as her fingers stayed ice-cold. She took one step. Then another. The doors closed behind her with a soft, final click. Hello, little thief. His voice hadn’t changed. Low, controlled, a blade wrapped in silk. He still didn’t turn, but she saw his reflection in the glass eyes the color of a winter sea, jaw sharper than she remembered, mouth set in a line that promised ruin. Ava’s pulse hammered in her throat. Mr. Blackwell He pivoted then, slowly, like a predator who already knew the prey couldn’t run. Five years had been cruelly kind to him. The boyish softness she’d once kissed away was gone. In its place was carved granite and lethal elegance. The same black hair, swept back now. The same scar through his left eyebrow that she’d traced with her tongue once upon a drunken night. But the warmth in his eyes? Dead. Buried. Cremated. You look like hell, Ava, he said, voice almost gentle. Almost. She lifted her chin. I’m here for the job. A slow smile curved his lips, the kind that never reached his eyes. Are you? He moved toward her in no hurry, no wasted motion until he was close enough that she caught the scent of his cedar, winter air and something darker. Danger. Power. Money that smelled like gunpowder. He circled her once, gaze raking from her scuffed boots to the messy knot of chestnut hair she’d tried to tame that morning. When he stopped behind her, his breath grazed the shell of her ear. You stole three million dollars from me, he murmured. Then you vanished. No note. No apology. Just gone. Her knees threatened to fold. I… He stepped in front of her again, tilting her chin with two fingers. The touch burned. I was dragged through the press. My board tried to have me removed. Police interviews. My mother cried for the first time in twenty years. His thumb brushed her lower lip, rough and deliberate. And you were in Costa Rica, weren’t you? Drinking cheap tequila on a beach while I burned. Ava swallowed. I had no choice. You always have a choice. His hand dropped. You just made the wrong one. Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Then he walked to his desk, picked up a slim black folder and tossed it at her feet. Papers scattered across the marble like fallen petals. Personal Executive Assistant to the CEO Start: Immediate Compensation: $500,000 per annum + full medical for one Robert Harper Duration: Until the debt is paid. She stared at the contract, the words swimming. I don’t need an assistant, Lucian said, leaning back against the desk, arms crossed. I need you on your knees, Ava. Every single day. Until I decide we’re even. Her head snapped up. You can’t.. I can buy hospitals. I can buy judges. I already bought your father’s company out of foreclosure last month. His smile turned feral. I own everything you love now. Sign and he gets the experimental treatment that might save him. Walk away, He shrugged. He dies in six weeks. Your choice. Tears stung her eyes. She hated him. God, she hated him. But she hated herself more. Lucian extended a Montblanc pen, obsidian and heavy as sin. Welcome back, Miss Harper, he said softly. Try not to steal the silverware this time. Her fingers shook as she took the pen. Outside, snow began to fall harder, blanketing the city in white. Inside, Ava Harper signed her soul away with a single, trembling stroke. And Lucian Blackwell watched her do it, eyes glittering with five years of vengeance finally within reach.