Trapped by the CEO’s Desire

2. Bound to the Devil

-- Fiancée? -- Isabel repeated the word as if it were a bad joke. Her eyes swept Lucía from head to toe, pausing on her worn leather jacket --. My, my, Adrian. I knew you were desperate to scrub your lone-wolf image for the board of directors, but I didn’t think you’d go to the extreme of hiring actresses. --

Lucía felt the metal of the handcuffs digging into her wrist, hidden between their bodies. She wanted to scream, to tell this stuck-up woman that she’d rather kiss a porcupine than be engaged to the monster of Neo-Habitat.

But Adrian’s threat still echoed in her ear. Prison. Debt. Goodbye to university.

Lucía forced the brightest, most plastic smile she was capable of, and, with pure malice, she dug her nails into Adrian’s side, right through the fabric of his designer suit. Adrian barely tightened his jaw, enduring the pain in silence.

-- I’m not an actress -- Lucía replied, forcing herself to sound sweet --. And believe me, Adrian is... insatiable when it comes to getting what he wants. --

Isabel wrinkled her nose, but before she could throw another poisoned dart, hurried footsteps echoed on the ramp.

-- Isa, my love! There you are. --

A tall man with light brown hair and a warm smile appeared in the parking lot. It was Mateo Elizalde. He wasn't wearing a suit, but an elegant yet relaxed cashmere coat. He approached Isabel, completely ignoring the tension in the air, and draped the coat over her shoulders to protect her from the cold of the garage.

-- You were taking too long, gorgeous. You had me worried -- Mateo murmured, placing a soft, protective kiss on Isabel’s forehead.

Lucía felt Adrian’s entire body turn into a granite statue beside her. The vein in his neck popped. Mateo was everything he wasn't: warm, expressive, and he had enough free time to worry if his girlfriend felt cold.

-- We were just leaving, Mateo -- Isabel said, leaning against her fiancé’s chest with a triumphant smile -- . Adrian was just introducing me to his... girlfriend. --

Mateo blinked, finally noticing the couple. He gave them a genuine, kind smile that only irritated Adrian more.

-- That’s great news, Valente! Congratulations -- Mateo said, waving a hand with friendly sympathy -- . Let’s see if this finally gets you to stop living locked in your office. Come on, Isa, dinner is getting cold. --

Isabel’s heels and Mateo’s loafers faded into the distance, leaving behind a dense, suffocating silence.

The exact second the elevator doors closed, the farce ended.

Lucía shoved Adrian with all the strength in her arms. The handcuff chain snapped tight, jerking his arm along with hers.

-- Let me go, you damn psychopath! -- Lucía exploded, her voice trembling with pure rage -- . Take these off right now or I’ll start screaming until the press comes down here! --

Adrian smoothed out his crumpled suit. His mask of coldness had returned to its place, impeccable and impenetrable. He reached into his right trouser pocket. He frowned. He reached into his left pocket. Nothing. He searched the inside of his jacket.

The silence stretched on agonizingly.

-- What are you doing? -- Lucía demanded, her eyes widening.

Adrian looked down at the dark floor of the parking lot, where they had just struggled.

-- It fell out -- he muttered, his jaw clenched.

-- What fell out? --

-- The key to the handcuffs, Lucía -- Adrian snapped, losing a bit of his millimetric control -- . I lost it in the scuffle. --

-- Are you kidding me?! -- Lucía pulled at the chain, forcing him to take a step toward her -- . Find it! Look for it on the floor! --

-- I’m not getting down on my hands and knees in a public parking lot! -- he shot back, pulling out his cell phone with one hand and dialing a number with his thumb.

-- Hugo -- Adrian said, his tone robotic over the phone -- . I need a discreet extraction tow truck in the Convention Center VIP. Level one confidentiality agreement. Send my spare car to the south exit... And Hugo, get a high-discretion locksmith to meet us at my place. --

He hung up without waiting for an answer and fixed his dark eyes on Lucía.

-- Walk. --

-- To where? -- she asked, defensively.

-- To my territory. We have numbers to discuss, and I’m not doing it in the middle of a parking lot while we’re chained together like Siamese twins. --

Half an hour later, after an uncomfortable ride in the back of a black car where they couldn't separate by even a millimeter, the private elevator opened directly into Adrian Valente’s penthouse.

Lucía lost her breath. The place was immense, dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows that showed the city lit up like a sea of stars. But it was chillingly cold. Everything was glass, stainless steel, and shades of grey. It looked like a modern villain’s lair.

Still joined by the metal, Adrian forced her to walk to the kitchen island. He poured two fingers of neat whiskey using only his left hand and turned on an electronic tablet. His fingers flew over the screen for a few seconds.

Then, he slid it across the marble toward Lucía.

-- Special factory paint, British bodywork repair, property damage, and silence fees -- he listed, taking a sip from his glass -- . That is the price of your tantrum tonight. --

Lucía looked at the screen. The zeros to the right of the number made her dizzy. Eighty-five thousand dollars. She could work serving coffee for three lifetimes and never gather that amount.

She looked up. Tears of frustration stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

-- I don’t have that money -- she said, her voice broken but firm -- . Cancel my life if you want. Send me to jail. You can't squeeze water from a stone, Valente. --

Adrian set the whiskey glass on the marble with a sharp thud. He leaned his hand on the island, looming over her, cornering her visually and tightening the chain that bound them. His cologne flooded Lucía’s senses.

-- I don’t want your money, Lucía -- he whispered, his eyes shining with a dangerous determination -- . I want your time. --

Lucía frowned, confused.

-- Six months -- Adrian continued, raising the handcuffed arm between them to emphasize his words -- . Six months pretending to be my fiancée in front of Isabel, in front of the press, and in front of my investors. You will work for me, you will move into my world, and you will do exactly what I tell you. And when the term is up, your debt will vanish completely. --