PRETTY LITTLE SECRET

Chapter Three

Ryan’s Pov

My jacket was still warm from my shoulders when she woke up, her big, tired eyes blinking against the dim light of the study. Vanessa clutched my black wool coat like it was a shield, staring at me with a mix of confusion and leftover fear. I should have stood up, taken the jacket back, and ordered her back to her locked room. I should have reminded her of the contract, the debt, and the exact distance she was supposed to keep from me.

Instead, I stayed sitting at my desk, watching the way her fingers traced the expensive fabric.

For thirty-two years, I had built my life around one single, unmovable rule: weakness is a death sentence. My father taught me that lesson with a cold hand and a hard heart before he passed down an empire built on blood, backstabbing, and boardrooms. He showed me that anyone who claims to love you will eventually use your affection to stick a knife between your shoulder blades. I learned it well. I locked away every soft piece of myself, turning my chest into a vault where no one could ever reach.

So why the hell couldn't I look away from a broke, stubborn girl who threw my expensive dresses in the garbage?

"You're still here," I said, my voice sounding rough and tired even to my own ears.

Vanessa pulled the jacket tighter around her shoulders, her chin coming up with that familiar, fiery spark that always made my blood run hot. "You left me here," she snapped softly, her voice raspy from sleep. "And for your information, I didn't mean to fall asleep on your ugly leather couch."

A low, humorless sound escaped my throat. "Ugly? That couch cost more than your mother's entire house, Vanessa."

"I don't care," she shot back, standing up and letting my jacket slip off her shoulders onto the floor. She didn't even bother picking it up. She walked right up to the edge of my desk, leaning over it so our faces were only inches apart. "Why did you put your jacket on me? What kind of game are you playing? You treat me like a prisoner, you lock me in a room, and then you act like... like you care? Stop confusing me!"

Her anger was raw, honest, and completely real. Every other woman in my circle—socialites, models, wealthy heiresses—smiled with their teeth while plotting how to get their names on my bank accounts. They wanted my status, my money, my power. Vanessa wanted none of it. She wanted her freedom, she wanted her brother safe, and she wanted me to go straight to hell.

That made her the most dangerous thing that had ever entered my life.

"I don't play games, Vanessa," I whispered, standing up slowly until I towered over her. The air between us grew thick, charged with a strange, heavy tension that made my heart hammer against my ribs. I reached out, my fingers hovering just an inch above her cheek before I pulled my hand back like I had touched fire. "You are a debt. Nothing more. Go back to your room before I forget that rule."

She glared at me, her chest rising and falling fast, before she turned on her heel and stormed out of the office, slamming the heavy door behind her.

I sank back down into my leather chair, rubbing my aching temples. She was getting under my skin. I hated the way she defied me, yet I found myself rewriting security protocols just to make sure no one on my staff looked at her the wrong way. I had secretly transferred her brother, Toby, to the finest private wing in the city, paying millions out of my own pocket, simply because I couldn't stand the thought of Vanessa crying over hospital bills. When one of my business partners had visited the mansion last week and stared at her a fraction of a second too long in the hallway, I had nearly broken his jaw.

Possession, I told myself. She belongs to me under the contract. That is the only reason I care.

But deep down, in the dark corners of my mind I refused to explore, I knew it wasn't just about ownership.

Three days later, the illusion of our quiet, isolated world shattered with a single phone call.

I was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows of my study, watching the rain wash over the stone patio, when my personal cell phone began to vibrate violently on the glass desk. I glanced at the screen. My father's private secretary.

I picked it up and pressed accept. "Make it quick."

"Ryan," my father's cold, commanding voice echoed through the speaker, carrying the weight of a dynasty that demanded absolute obedience. "Pack a bag. You are coming to the estate tonight. We have finalized the arrangements."

My jaw tightened instantly. "Arrangements for what? I told you last month, I am not interested in your corporate mergers disguised as marriages."

"This isn't a request," my father snapped, his tone dropping into a dangerous, chilling register. "The board has voted. The Carter family is the missing piece for our European expansion. You will marry Ella Carter before the end of the year. The engagement announcement goes public to the press tomorrow morning."

A cold rage surged through my veins, sharp and blinding. "I said no. I am not marrying Ella. I don't care about the European expansion, and I don't care about the board's approval. Find someone else to sell off."

"You arrogant little fool," my father hissed over the line. "Do you think you built this empire alone? Every asset you own, every share you hold, and every door unlocked for you belongs to this family. If you refuse this marriage, I will strip you of your title, freeze your accounts, and tear your life down to dust. And whatever little secrets you are keeping hidden in that private mansion of yours? They will be destroyed first."

The line went dead with a sharp click.

I stood frozen in the center of the quiet room, the phone gripped so hard in my fist I thought the glass screen might c***k. My father knew. He didn't know the exact details yet, but he knew I was hiding someone here. If he found out about Vanessa, he would use her to break me, or worse, destroy her just to teach me a lesson in obedience.