Chapter 1: Do I Really Have to Take Everything Off?

Do I really have to take everything off?

Isla Bennett swallowed hard, forcing herself to look calm.

"Take it off when I tell you to." The middle-aged doctor glanced coldly at Isla on the padded exam table, her voice sharp with irritation.

Isla bit down on her lower lip, hard enough to leave two faint marks in the soft pink skin. Her whole body was strung tight with unease. "Can I at least ask what this exam is for?"

The doctor's brow creased. "It's a full pre-marital screening, obviously. If you're going to marry into the Vale family and become the young mistress, you'd better be clean. Untouched."

And that wasn't all. Her body had to hold up, too otherwise who'd take the blame when Mr. Vale wore her out on the wedding night and there was nothing left to enjoy?

Isla's breath caught in her throat.

"Hurry up. Everything off, then lie back," the doctor snapped, in a tone that left no room to argue.

Isla bit her lip harder, humiliation and fury boiling under her skin. She felt like a piece of furniture being appraised before a sale stripped of every shred of dignity.

She'd been drugged and dragged here. By her own family.

The Bennetts had promised her cousin, Bianca, to the Vale family in marriage. They'd already pocketed the obscene dowry and shaken hands on the deal and now they were quietly swapping brides. Sending Isla in Bianca's place.

It was monstrous.

The Vale family's money was old and vast, rich enough to rival a small country's treasury.

And the rumors about the Vale heir were worse. People said he was worth over a hundred billion dollars and could crush a man's career with one phone call but that he was also paralyzed, vicious-tempered, ice-cold, and maybe even the kind of man who liked breaking women for sport.

No. She was not going to lie here and let this happen to her.

Isla lowered her lashes. Beneath them, her eyes were clear and unclouded, and they were already searching the room for a way out. She reached for the top button of her blouse then looked up, all wide-eyed innocence.

"Um... could I shower first? Before the exam? I'll be quick, I promise."

The overhead light caught her face, soft and pale as moonlight, and for a second the doctor actually hesitated. A sliver of collarbone showed at Isla's open collar, skin so fair it looked breakable, like something that had never once seen the sun.

There was something about her the quiet obedience, the sweetness that threw the doctor off guard completely.

"Fine. Don't try anything, or it's your whole family that pays for it."

"Mm-hm." Isla nodded, voice soft as cotton, the picture of a girl too gentle to cause any trouble at all.

She swallowed her panic and walked, slow and careful, into the bathroom.

The second the lock clicked, her legs gave out. She slumped against the door, heart slamming, mind blank with fear.

She had to get out. She had to get out *now*.

She scanned the marble bathroom, spotted the window, and forced it open with shaking hands. They were high up twenty-something floors, easy but there was a narrow safety ledge running along the outside wall.

She didn't let herself think twice. Isla hated heights. Her whole body was shaking as she climbed out onto that ledge anyway, gripping the rail, inching forward one trembling step at a time because her future was worth more than her fear.

Two doors down, in the penthouse suite, Grayson Vale felt his temperature climbing toward something dangerous. He tossed the photograph in his hand onto the couch and reached for a robe, heading for a cold shower.

His own brother had drugged him. Drugged him, to force his hand into a marriage he'd never agreed to.

And if they thought sending some woman to the room next door would change his mind, they were about to be disappointed.

A gust of night air slid through the open window. Something rolled off the sill behind him followed by a sharp cry of pain.

"Ow"

Grayson turned, robe still in hand, dark eyes cutting toward the window.

Isla had tumbled straight through it, landing hard on the carpet, stars bursting behind her eyes.

She pushed herself up, and the second she lifted her head, she found herself staring into a pair of eyes so cold and so deep they looked carved from stone.

The man standing by the sofa wore a half-open shirt and dress pants like they'd been tailored onto him. Sharp jaw, straight nose, a mouth that looked like it rarely bothered to smile his face was the kind of handsome that didn't feel real.

Isla's cheeks flushed hot. She was still catching her breath, and something about the sheer force of his presence made it hard to breathe at all.

"So um. I'm actually staying in the room next door. My door jammed, and no one was answering, so I climbed over. I'm really sorry," Isla said, doing her best sheepish smile, already inching sideways toward his door, trying to slip out before he asked a single follow-up question.

She lied like she'd rehearsed it.

Grayson didn't answer right away. His gaze dropped, just briefly, to the photograph now half-hidden under the robe on the couch.

Same face.

So this woman really had come here to trap him into marriage desperate enough to climb along a ledge thirty stories up.

Isla had almost reached the door when she heard voices in the hallway outside.

"Miss Bennett got out through the window find her, now."

The voices were right outside the door. Isla froze.

They'd noticed this fast? She was finished.

She spun around and darted back to Grayson's side just as he let the robe fall, covering the photo completely.

Up close, she got a real look at him the kind of build men paid trainers a fortune to get, broad through the shoulders, lean through the waist, every bit of him radiating money and control. "Are you... a guest here? Or do you work for the hotel?"

"Guess," he said, instead of answering.

The moment she stepped close, something in him lit up hot and unwelcome. He kept his face perfectly still, curious to see exactly how far this woman would take her act.

Isla's face had gone bloodless. Her brows pulled together, panic bleeding through every careful line of her expression. "It doesn't matter who you are but could you help me? There are people out there trying to force me into marrying some crippled old pervert."

"You know the Vale family? The son they're always whispering about? I heard he's hideous, cruel, practically a eunuch. They want to hand me over like a party favor for their precious little arrangement like I'd actually go through with marrying a man who probably won't last the year. Please. Just pretend to be my boyfriend. I'll pay you."

She said it all in one furious breath, laying it on thick, painting the Vale heir in the ugliest colors she could invent. Desperate times. Sob stories were the only currency she had left.

Something dark moved behind Grayson's eyes.

Eunuch. Old pervert.

Isla looked up at him, wide-eyed, heart hammering so hard she thought he'd hear it.

If someone knocked on that door right now, she was done for.

But why did his expression keep getting darker? She hadn't said anything about him so why was he looking at her like that?

"Rent me out? I don't come cheap," Grayson said, voice low, edged with something that might have been anger, eyes fixed on her like she was a puzzle he intended to take apart.

A chill went straight down her spine. Isla swallowed and forced the words out anyway. "I I have money. I can pay you."

Grayson's arm came around her waist and pulled her flush against him rough, sudden, before she could think to step back.

His hand was warm against her skin, and Isla felt herself shiver at the contact.

"Fine. How do you want to do this?" His face was inches from hers, wicked and unreadable, his breath warm against her cheek. Isla's toes curled inside her shoes without her permission.

How did she want to do this? She hadn't actually planned that far.

She looked up at him, all wide-eyed innocence, tilting her chin back, biting her lip in a way that gave away exactly how nervous she was. "Photos. Let's take some the kind that would actually convince someone. A little inappropriate."

Yes. If it meant dodging a forced marriage, a few risqué photos were a small price to pay.

"Take your shirt off. Hurry," Isla said, breaking free of his hold and tugging him toward the bed by the hand, already reaching for the buttons of his shirt in her nervous rush.

Her fingers brushed against skin that felt like it was burning. Grayson's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with something far more dangerous than anger.