The offer.
1203 Words
*SERA'S POV*
I tapped the “Publish” button with a satisfied smirk, watching the latest Velvet Vendetta post disappear into the digital void.
“Billionaires and Their Hollow Empires.”
It wasn’t my best work, but it would land like a slap.
I leaned back in my creaky chair, the only light in my cramped Brooklyn apartment coming from the laptop screen.
Another night spent reminding myself why I hated men who controlled others because of their money.
My phone started buzzing insistently.
Unknown number.
I ignored it twice, but on the third call, something in my gut twisted.
I answered.
“Miss Seraphina Vale?” The voice was polished, professional. “Mr. Lucian Voss would like to see you immediately. A car is already waiting downstairs.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Lucian Voss? Tell him I don’t make house calls for billionaires. Especially not at this hour.”
“It concerns the future of your business, Miss Vale. Vale & Lennox Weddings. I suggest you don’t refuse.”
Mia’s face flashed in my mind... the two of us hustling late nights, dreaming big.
Our biggest client had already threatened to walk. If this was connected… I grabbed my coat, heart pounding with a mix of anger and dread.
The town car was pure luxury, the ride to Voss Tower silent and smooth.
By the time I was led into the private elevator of Voss Tower, my pulse was already unsteady.
The top floor was quiet in a way that felt deliberate.
No unnecessary movement.
No casual conversation. Everything here existed to serve one man.
When the elevator doors opened onto the top floor, I stepped into a world of glass and steel that screamed power.
Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering Manhattan skyline like he owned the night itself.
And then I saw him.
Lucian Voss.
Lucian Voss stood behind his massive glass desk, hands casually in the pockets of a tailored black suit that hugged his tall, athletic frame.
He was younger than I’d pictured — twenty-nine at most — but carried an aura that filled the entire room.
Tousled black hair begged for fingers to run through it, a sharp jawline, and those piercing steel-gray eyes that locked onto me instantly, intense and unreadable.
God, he was devastatingly beautiful.
The kind of hot that made your breath catch — broad shoulders, confident stance, the quiet dominance rolling off him in waves.
My traitorous body noticed every detail before my brain could slap it down.
He didn’t look up immediately.
He finished reading something on the screen in front of him, then slowly raised his eyes to mine.
The steel-gray of them was colder in person.
Assessing.
Unimpressed.
Interested in a way that made my skin tighten.
“Miss Vale,” he said. His voice was calm. Controlled. “Sit.”
It wasn’t a request.
I remained standing. “You had me brought here. Say what you need to say.”
A faint flicker of something passed through his gaze.
Not anger.
Something closer to amusement edged with calculation.
He picked up a slim folder from the desk and dropped it in front of me.
It landed with a soft, final sound.
“Open it.” he said.
I did.
The first page was a full background report on me.
Financial records. Business debts.
The pending collapse of Vale & Lennox.
The second page made my stomach drop.
Screenshots. Timestamps.
IP trails.
Drafts.
Velvet Vendetta.
My name was written clearly at the top.
I looked up.
My voice came out lower than I intended. “How long have you known?”
“Long enough,” he replied. “Long enough to know that if the wrong people see this, they won’t stop at destroying your little blog. They’ll go after everything connected to you. Your business partner. Her family. Anyone who has ever supported you.”
The air in the room felt thinner.
He walked around the desk slowly, stopping a few feet away from me.
Up close, he was taller than he had seemed from a distance.
The kind of presence that filled space without effort.
“There are men in this city who would pay a great deal to know who has been writing about them,” he continued. “Some of them are not patient. Some of them are not civilized. I can make sure they never find out.”
I forced myself to hold his gaze. “And in exchange?”
He didn't say anything immediately.
He signaled to someone who obviously looked like his lawyer.
Without hesitation, the lawyer gave me a file.
“You marry me.” he said before I could even open the file.
The words were delivered without drama.
Flat.
Absolute.
I stared at him. “You’re insane.”
“No,” he said. “I'm offering a contract. My grandfather’s will requires a marriage of six months for me to retain full control of this company. I need a wife who won’t become a liability. You need your business and the people attached to it to remain standing. The arrangement is simple.”
“You think I’ll just agree because you threaten me?” I asked as I folded my arms.
His eyes sharpened.
There it was — the spark.
Not desire in any soft sense.
Interest.
The look of a man who had already decided how he would use someone.
“I’m not asking you to agree because of the threat,” he said quietly. “I’m telling you the reality. Refuse, and I do nothing to protect the information I have. Agree, and your debts disappear, your business survives, and your people remain untouched. You live in my penthouse. You appear when required. You play the role. Six months.”
I hated how steady his voice was.
He had already planned the whole thing.
I hated the way every word landed with the weight of someone who was used to winning.
"I hate the way people like you sound,” I said with a sigh, trying to keep my voice steady. “You’re using everything I love against me.”
“I’m using leverage,” he corrected. “Something you should learn quickly if you plan to survive around me.”
Silence stretched between us.
My hands had curled into fists at my sides.
I wanted to walk out. I wanted to tell him to go to hell.
But the folder on the desk was still open, and every page in it was a loaded weapon pointed at the only people I had left.
Lucian glanced at the time.
“You have until ten o’clock tomorrow night,” he said. “Not a minute later. My lawyer will be ready with the contract.”
He stepped back behind the desk, already dismissing me.
“Escort Miss Vale out,” he said to the men near the door.
They moved immediately.
I took one last look at him.
He was already returning his attention to the screen on his desk, as if the conversation had been nothing more than another item handled.
Ruthless.
Cold.
Completely in control.
The door closed behind me with a quiet, final sound.
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