Chapter 1

Elizabeth’s POV

The late-morning sun blazed beyond the tinted windows of my car as I stared at the cargo ships docked across the port.

Outside, workers hurried in every direction, too consumed by their jobs to notice who might be watching. They were the kind of people who broke their backs for a modest paycheck. They worked for food, shelter, medicine, security—for their families.

My money served a different purpose.

It bought whatever I wanted.

Expensive things? Easily. Houses and land? As many as I pleased. People? Most of them had a price, whether they admitted it or not.

With the Buenaventura fortune behind me, I could probably buy the entire port without losing a minute of sleep. Unfortunately, all that money couldn’t buy me patience.

And mine was rapidly running out.

“Why is he taking so damn long?” I muttered, glaring at the clock on the dashboard.

Eleven o’clock.

Mr. Gallagher was supposed to have been here already.

Surely, he hadn’t forgotten that Elizabeth Buenaventura was sitting in a car waiting for him.

The cold air blasting from the vents did nothing to ease my irritation. Finally, unable to tolerate another second of suffocating boredom, I shoved open the door and stepped outside.

Heat assaulted me at once.

The sea breeze caught the hem of my navy dress, and I gripped the fabric before it could fly high enough to give the dockworkers a free show. Not that I particularly cared what they saw. I was simply in no mood to become the highlight of their morning.

I pulled a pair of designer sunglasses from my clutch and slid them on, scanning the crowded port for my assistant.

Mr. Peter was nowhere in sight.

“Wonderful.”

The wind whipped my hair across my face. I brushed it aside with an irritated sigh, then spotted a restaurant a short distance away.

There was no chance I was going to stand beneath the sun and bake while waiting for a man who clearly had no respect for my time.

The restaurant’s air-conditioning greeted me the moment I stepped inside. I removed my sunglasses and swept my gaze across the room, searching for a familiar face. When I found none, a waiter escorted me to one of the best tables by the window.

I ordered pasta and their most popular fresh juice. The waitress had barely walked away when my phone vibrated inside my purse.

Mr. Peter.

“What?” I answered.

“Miss? Where are you?”

“I’m inside the restaurant.”

Through the window, I spotted him beside the car. The moment he saw me, he hurried across the parking lot and rushed into the restaurant.

By the time he reached my table, he was nearly out of breath.

“Well?” I asked.

He adjusted his collar. “Mr. Gallagher is still in a meeting, Miss. Apparently, an important client presented him with an opportunity he didn’t want to pass up.”

My fingers tightened around my phone.

An important client?

Did that man not understand that the Buenaventuras were his most important clients? And he had still chosen to make me wait while he entertained someone else?

I forced myself to smile. It was small, tight, and sharp enough to draw blood.

“How much longer?”

Mr. Peter hesitated, clearly disturbed by my sudden calm. “A-about fifteen minutes, Miss.”

Fifteen minutes.

That bastard expected me to wait another fifteen minutes for him.

I gestured toward the chair across from me. “Sit.”

Mr. Peter stared at it as if I had invited him to his own execution. “I appreciate the offer, Miss, but perhaps I should remain available in case Mr. Gallagher arrives.”

“You can be available while sitting.”

A nervous laugh slipped out of him. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your meal.” His gaze dropped briefly to my hand. Only then did I notice the slight tremor in my fingers.

“Fine,” I said coldly.

He bowed. “I’ll be at the table behind you if you need anything.” The moment he left, I turned back toward the window and stared at the sea.

My food arrived a few minutes later. In the background, Mr. Peter was speaking quietly to one of the waiters. I didn’t bother waiting for him before I began to eat.

Normally, I preferred to take my time with meals. Food was meant to be enjoyed, not inhaled. But Gallagher’s disrespect had left me with too much restless energy, and I attacked the pasta as if it were personally responsible for my mood.

I didn’t finish the plate, but I ate enough to satisfy my hunger. Just as I pushed it aside, a sleek black sedan pulled into the parking space beside mine.

Two men stepped out. I recognized the first immediately.

Rodolfo Gallagher—the man who had dared to keep me waiting.

My anger sharpened, but then his companion emerged from the passenger side, and for one rare, disorienting moment, Gallagher ceased to exist.

The stranger was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit. He had a sharply defined jaw, an elegant profile, and dark eyebrows that framed the most striking pair of eyes I had ever seen.

Blue.

His features should have made him beautiful, but there was something too controlled about him for that word. Something cold and dangerous beneath the polished exterior.

He was breathtaking.

He said something to Gallagher, and my attention dropped to his mouth. His lips were firm, almost severe, yet all I could think about was how they might feel against mine.

Did I seriously just imagine him kissing me?

I shook the thought away, though my gaze remained fixed on him.

I had always appreciated a handsome face. There was no shame in admiring something beautiful, and this man was easily one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.

I wanted him.

The realization came swiftly and without apology. The only problem was that I didn’t know who he was.

“Miss?”

A hand touched my shoulder. I spun toward Mr. Peter, and he immediately recoiled from the force of my glare.

“What?”

“Mr. Gallagher has arrived. Perhaps we should—”

“Go back to your table.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I turned toward the entrance again. “He made me wait. He can come to me.”

“But, Miss—”

“Sit down, Peter.”

The warning in my voice ended the discussion. Mr. Peter bowed and retreated. I knew he was only trying to prevent the situation from escalating, but it was much too late for that. Gallagher had made his choice.

Now he could suffer the consequences. I lifted my glass and took a slow sip as Gallagher entered the restaurant.

The instant he saw me, he froze.

His face was drained of color. Sweat formed along his forehead as his gaze met mine, and I watched the full weight of his mistake settle over him.

Good. He murmured something to his companion before abandoning him near the entrance and hurrying toward me.

You did not make a Buenaventura wait. Not if you valued your business. Not if you valued your future.

Gallagher approached my table with visible reluctance. When he finally reached me, I looked up and gave him my sweetest smile.

“G-good morning, Ms. Buenaventura.”

“Mr. Gallagher.” I gestured toward the empty chair. “Please, sit.”

His gaze moved from me to the chair. “Yes. Of course. Thank you.”

The moment he sat, my smile disappeared.

“So,” I said, folding my hands on the table. “Where should we begin? With the business deal, or with the staggering disrespect you showed me today?”

He flinched. “Ms. Buenaventura, you see—”

“Did your other client offer you something so extraordinary that you felt comfortable leaving me inside a car while you finished your meeting?”

“It wasn’t my intention to—”

“Then what was your intention?” His mouth opened, but no answer came out.

I leaned back and crossed my arms. “What did he offer you, Mr. Gallagher?”

He managed to meet my eyes for less than a second before looking away.

I raised an eyebrow. “Nothing to say?”

“It isn’t what you think.”

“No?” I tilted my head. “Then are you suggesting my assistant lied when he said you considered the meeting too valuable to leave?”

Gallagher squeezed his eyes shut. Pathetic.

“You know my father,” I continued. “You know how seriously he takes disrespect toward this family. If I told him what happened today, every arrangement between your companies and ours would be reconsidered. Contracts could disappear. Investments could be withdrawn. Doors you spent decades forcing open would slam shut overnight.”

His breathing grew shallow. I leaned forward and lowered my voice.

“So, choose carefully. You can apologize to me now, or I can call my father and let him decide what your disrespect is worth.”

A smile tugged at my lips. I had no intention of destroying the man’s entire life over fifteen minutes. That would be excessive, even for me.

But Gallagher didn’t know that. And there was something intoxicating about watching a powerful man realize his fate could be placed in my hands.

His chair scraped against the floor. He stood, moved around the table, and lowered himself onto his knees beside me.

Satisfaction unfurled inside my chest. Sweat gathered at his temples. His lips trembled as he looked up at me, his eyes silently pleading for mercy.

I widened my eyes in mock surprise. “Oh, my. You’re going to beg in front of all these people?” I asked. “Are you really that desperate?”

He swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Ms. Buenaventura.” His voice was barely audible. “I’m sorry for what I did. Please forgive me.”

The sight of him on his knees should have been enough. But it wasn't. A better idea slipped into my mind, and my smile widened.

“All right,” I murmured. “If you’re truly that sorry, perhaps I’ll forgive you.”

I crossed one leg over the other and lightly tapped the tip of my stiletto against his thigh. “Lick my shoe.”

Horror filled his face. “Isn’t that… a little much, Ms. Buenaventura?”

“Did I ask for your opinion?”

Before he could answer, a deep, even voice cut through the tension.

“Let him go.”

My gaze snapped toward the speaker.

It was him. The stranger. Up close, he was even more striking. His eyes were the rich blue of deep ocean water, calm and unreadable as they settled on me. There was no fear in them. No hesitation.

Interesting. I slowly looked him over, letting my appreciation show.

“Well, hello, handsome.” I wet my lips. “What’s your name?”

He ignored my question. Instead, he reached down, took Gallagher firmly by the arm, and hauled him to his feet.

My amusement vanished. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Gallagher looked frantically between us. “But—”

“I’ll handle this,” the stranger told him. “Wait in the car. I’ll join you shortly.”

His tone left no room for argument. I glared at Gallagher, daring him to obey. He avoided my gaze and fled. Actually fled.

Within seconds, he was out the door, leaving me alone with the blue-eyed stranger. The man pulled out the chair across from me and sat without waiting for permission.

I stared at him. He had to be insane.

“I don’t believe that’s your seat,” I said, pointing toward the floor where Gallagher had been kneeling. “Your place is down there.”

“I’m already in front of you, Ms. Buenaventura.”

“Are you deaf, or merely stupid? Gallagher was on his knees. If you intend to take his place, you should be on yours as well.”

He studied me with infuriating calm. “You think far too highly of yourself.”

A disbelieving laugh escaped me. “Now,” he continued, “if Mr. Gallagher owes you something, name your price. I’ll pay for it, and we can both leave.”

My amusement sharpened into contempt. “Do you honestly believe you can buy me?”

His expression didn’t change. “Then what do you want?”

“I already told you. Kneel.”

His gaze dropped briefly to the floor before returning to mine. “No.” The single word struck harder than it should have.

“No?” I repeated.

“I don’t kneel for people like you.”

For a moment, I could only stare at him. Then a laugh slipped from my lips—quiet, incredulous, and entirely without humor.

“You clearly have no idea who you’re speaking to.”

“Elizabeth Buenaventura,” he said smoothly. “Only daughter of William Buenaventura. Sole heiress to an empire that stretches across land, air, and sea.”

My retort died before it could leave my mouth. He knew who I was. Every controlled syllable made it clear he knew exactly who sat across from him—and he still wasn’t afraid.

He leaned closer. “Would you like me to continue?”

My nails dug into my palms.

“Mr. Buenaventura’s daughter is a spoiled, entitled bully,” he said. “A woman who uses her father’s name and money to terrorize people whenever she doesn’t get what she wants.”

Rage exploded through me. “Who the fuck are you?”

The faintest smile touched his mouth. I wanted to slap it off his perfect face.

“Now you want to know?” he asked. “I’m not sure whether it’s a blessing or a curse that you don’t recognize me.”

“Tell me your name.” He said nothing.

“Why are you protecting Gallagher?” I demanded. “Do you think I won’t tell my father what he did? That man humiliated me.”

“No, Ms. Buenaventura.” His voice turned glacial. “You humiliated yourself.” The words landed like a slap.

He gestured toward the room. “Did it ever occur to you that everyone here witnessed what you just did? You forced a man to his knees and ordered him to lick your shoe because he kept you waiting for a few minutes.”

My gaze swept across the restaurant.

The moment I looked, every patron and employee found something else to stare at. Plates. Glasses. The floor. Anything but me.

They had seen everything. The silence inside the restaurant suddenly felt suffocating.

“You have quite an audience,” the stranger observed.

“Shut up.” My voice cracked through the room like a whip.

Something shifted in his eyes, but he didn’t look away. I hated him for that.

I hated that he had stripped the situation bare with a few calm words. Hated that he had made me aware of the people watching. Hated that, for one fleeting moment, he had made me feel exposed.

But I was Elizabeth Buenaventura.

I would not let a stranger humiliate me and walk away believing he had won.

I snatched my purse from the table and stood. Then I walked around to his side and stopped beside his chair.

He remained seated.

Of course he did.

I bent until my lips hovered beside his ear. Heat radiated from his body, and the clean, masculine scent of his cologne filled my lungs.

Even now, furious as I was, I couldn’t deny how good he smelled.

I despised him for that, too.

“Give Gallagher a message for me,” I whispered. “By the end of today, he’ll understand exactly what it costs to cross a Buenaventura.”

I pulled back just far enough to meet those infuriating blue eyes.

“And as for you…”

My gaze dropped briefly to his mouth before returning to his eyes.

“We’re not finished.”

He held my stare, calm and unshaken.

That only made me hate him more.

I straightened, turned on my heel, and walked out of the restaurant without looking back.