Chapter 2

The Lion’s Den

‎Benita Hayes

‎The Knight estate didn’t look like a home; it looked like a museum where the exhibits were made of ice and the air was filtered through money.

‎I sat in the back of the charcoal-grey Maybach, the silence between Adrian and me so thick it felt heavy in my lungs. Outside the tinted windows, the massive iron gates of the property swung open with a low, hydraulic hiss that sounded like a predator yawning. I watched the gravel crunch beneath the tires, feeling every inch of the distance growing between me and the life I had known only hours ago.

‎"You’re overthinking again. I can hear your brain whirring from here."

‎Adrian hadn't moved. He was sitting perfectly still, a tablet glowing in his lap, the blue light sharpening the harsh, beautiful angles of his face. He didn’t even look up from the stocks he was monitoring, yet he had sensed my internal spiral with unnerving accuracy.

‎"It’s hard not to," I replied, my voice sounding small in the cavernous interior of the car. "I just signed away three years of my life to a man who hasn't looked me in the eye since we left my father's study."

‎Adrian finally paused. He turned his head slowly, his dark grey gaze pinning me to the leather seat. "I looked you in the eye when you signed that paper, Benita. I saw exactly what was there. Fear. Resentment. And a very small, very buried spark of defiance. That spark is the only reason I let my father proceed with this."

‎"You let him?" I snapped, the stress of the night finally causing my professional mask to slip. "You make it sound like you had a choice. You're just as much of a pawn as I am, Adrian."

‎The car came to a smooth halt in front of the marble portico. Adrian didn't get out immediately. He leaned closer, invading my space until I could smell the faint, expensive scent of sandalwood and cold rain that seemed to cling to his skin.

‎"I am never a pawn, Benita," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous silk. "I am the player who knows when to sacrifice a piece to win the board. Right now, the piece is my bachelorhood. The win is the Hayes Group’s technology. Don’t confuse my cooperation with weakness."

‎He stepped out, leaving me shivering in the sudden draft of night air.

‎The foyer of the Knight mansion was a cathedral of white marble and gold leaf. Standing at the base of the sweeping staircase was Victoria Knight. She looked like a portrait of old-world aristocracy, her spine a straight line of pure, unadulterated arrogance.

‎"She’s here, then," Victoria said, her eyes raking over my charcoal skirt and cream blouse with blatant distaste. "I assume the staff has moved her things into the West Wing guest suite, Adrian? I won't have the primary wing cluttered with... luggage."

‎"She’s my wife, Mother," Adrian said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "She will stay in the primary suite. The contract specifies a shared residence. If the press or the board finds out we’re sleeping in separate wings on night one, the merger loses its 'romantic' stability.

‎Victoria’s eyes flashed with a momentary spark of anger. "The contract is for the public, Adrian. Inside these walls, we needn't pretend."

‎"In this house, the walls have ears, and the staff are on your husband's payroll," Adrian replied, gesturing for me to follow him. "We will pretend exactly as much as I deem necessary to protect my interests."

‎As we climbed the stairs, I felt Victoria’s gaze boring into my back like a physical weight. I realized then that I wasn't just Adrian's wife; I was a variable in a war between a mother and a son.

‎Adrian Knight

‎I could feel her trembling.

‎Even though Benita walked with her head held high, her hand was white-knuckled as she gripped the strap of her laptop bag. She was terrified, and yet, she hadn't crumbled. Most people who stood in my mother's shadow ended up apologizing for the very air they breathed. Benita just stared back, her observant brown eyes cataloging every detail of the house.

‎She’s looking for the exits, I thought. Smart girl.

‎I led her to the primary suite—a massive expanse of slate-grey silk, dark wood, and floor-to-ceiling glass that overlooked the dark gardens. It was a room designed for power, not comfort.

‎"The dressing room is through there," I said, pointing to the left. "I’ve had Luca clear a space for your things. The staff has already unpacked your suitcase."

‎Benita walked to the window, her back to me. "Why the primary suite, Adrian? You could have made up an excuse for your mother. Why keep me this close?"

‎"Because," I said, shedding my suit jacket and tossing it onto a chair, "my father is a man who believes in 'trust but verify.' He will have a maid check the bedsheets. He will have the security cameras in the hallway monitored to see if I leave this room. If we aren't a 'devoted couple' behind closed doors, he will use that leverage to squeeze your father for more shares."

‎I walked toward her, stopping just behind her. She was so much shorter than me, so much softer. In the reflection of the glass, I saw her eyes jump to mine.

‎"I’m a strategic necessity to you," she whispered.

‎"You are a contract I intend to honor," I corrected. I reached out, my fingers hovering just inches from her shoulder before I pulled back. "There is a lock on the dressing room door. Use it if you don't trust me. I’ll be working in the study annex until late."

‎"Adrian?"

‎I paused, my hand on the light switch.

‎"I found a note in my bag," she said, turning around. She held up a crumpled piece of paper. "It says 'I had no choice. Please don't hate me.' It’s signed with a 'V'."

‎My jaw tightened. Veronica or Vanessa. The vultures were already circling the carcass of the Hayes legacy.

‎"Burn it," I said coldly. "In this house, Benita, the only person you can afford to trust is the one whose name is on that marriage license with yours. Not because I’m a good man, but because our survival is now identical.

‎I shut off the light, leaving her in the shadows of our new, gilded cage. I walked into the annex, my heart beating a rhythm I didn't recognize. She was observant—too observant. If she looked too closely, she might see that I didn't just marry her to save her father.

‎I married her because she was the only person in that boardroom who looked at the world the same way I did: like a puzzle that needed to be solved, no matter the cost.