HARSH

Victor Husley stood at the of bustling art gallery, his sharp eyes were scanning the room with his predatory gaze. The clinking of glasses and low conversations were filling the air, but his mind was somewhere else. Events like these were more of an obligation than a pleasure, a place to rub shoulders with other wealthy people and nod at the approval of overpriced paintings. His tailor suit fit him perfectly, seeing his broad shoulders and powerful build, while his expression was cold which keeps strangers at a safe distance.

Tonight, however, something was different. His attention had been drawn, quite unexpectedly, to the art of piece in the far corner. It wasn't the art itself that attract him, but rather the artist who was standing near it, engaged in a conversation with a small group of admirers.

She was striking, to say the least. Long, dark hair cascaded down her back, and her bright green eyes sparkles with a passion that seemed to light the entire room. She was young, probably in her mid-twenties, with a slim figure that radiates a natural grace. Unlike many of the women in his circles, she seemed genuine, not preoccupied with status or wealth. Victor could sense her determined spirit from across the room, and it stirred something within him dark and unyielding.

As if sensing his gaze, she glanced over and met his eyes. There was a moment of connection, that sent a surge of heat through his veins. But just as quickly as it appeared, it disappears, turning her attention back to the people around her.

Victor's jaw tightens. He wasn't accustomed to being ignored. A woman like her, beautiful, stubborn, wasn't the type to usually occupy his thoughts. Yet, in that brief exchange, something had awakened inside him, an urge he hadn’t felt in years. She would not be able to escape his thoughts so easily.

He found himself approaching her before he could even question his own motives. As he goes near her, the details of her appearance became clearer, the way her eyes shine brightly, little curves of her body beneath the simple black dress she wore. She didn’t dress to impress, and that only made her more beautiful.

“Olivia Haye, I presume,” he said, his voice was smooth and deep, with just a hint of command. “I noticed your work from across the room.”

She turned to face him fully, raising an eyebrow as she met his gaze once more. There was no hint of awe or recognition in her expression, just a curious glance that held no fear.

“Yes, that’s me,” she replied evenly, her voice was steady. “And you are?”

“Victor Husley,” he introduced himself, watching her reaction carefully. There it was, a flicker of something in her eyes. Not fear, but a cautious curiosity. She knew who he was, at least by reputation. Everyone did.

"Victor Husley?" She repeated his name with a mix of curiosity. "The billionaire industrialist? What brings you to an art gallery? I wouldn't have see you for the artistic type."

He gives a small, humorless smile. "I have an appreciation for beauty in all its forms," he replied, his eyes lingered on her face in a way that made his intentions unmistakable.

Olivia's lips curved slightly, but the smile did not reach her eyes. "Is that so? And which piece caught your attention?" she asked, gesturing toward the paintings around them.

"Not a piece," he answered, his voice lowers as he took a step closer. "But the artist."

Her eyes widen slightly, just a little, but Victor didn’t miss the slight hitch in her breath. For a moment, silence hung between them, thick. Then, as if snapping back to reality, she took a step back, creating a careful distance.

“I’m flattered, Mr. Husley,” she said, her tone was polite but firm, “but I’m not interested in… personal admirers.”

He chuckled softly, a deep sound that vibrated in his chest. “I don’t admire from a distance, Olivia. I prefer a more… hands-on approach.”

The weight in his gaze unnerved her, but she didn’t show it. She was no stranger to the advances of men, especially those with power and wealth. Yet, there was something about Victor that seems dangerous.

“Well, if it’s my work you’re interested in, I’m afraid you’ll find it lacks the kind of hands-on experience you’re looking for,” she said with a faint smirk, turning on her heel to walk away.

Victor's eyes narrowed as he watched her disappear into the crowd. He wasn’t used to being dismissed, and certainly not by a woman who had so clearly felt the pull between them. A mixture of irritation and excitement goes through him. This was not over.

Later that night, as Victor ride back to his penthouse, his mind was still consumed by thoughts of Olivia. She had fired a challenge within him but one he had every intention of winning. There was something about her spirit, that made the need to possess her even stronger.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen. It was Donoven, his personal assistant.

"Yes?" Victor answered.

"Sir, I've looked into the details you requested," Donoven began. "Olivia Haye—27 years old, an artist on the rise. Graduated her class at a prestigious art school, and has had several exhibitions already. She's independent and... well, not interested in mingling with the wealthy people, it seems."

Victor's lips pressed. "So, she's as stubborn as she appears."

"Indeed, sir. However, there’s something else you might find interesting, her financial situation is... bad. Her father’s medical bills have left her with a lot of debt. She’s struggling to keep her life head on."

Victor's grip tightened on the phone. So, she was in a vulnerable position. This was a card he could play. It was a risk, of course, but one he was willing to take. If she refused him on equal footing, then he would simply cross the line.

"Very well," he said finally. "Arrange a meeting with her. Make sure she knows it’s a business matter."

"Understood, sir," Donoven replied.

Victor hang up, his expression was darkening. The game had only just begun, and Olivia Haye would soon learn what it meant to be desired by a man who always got what he wanted.

A week later, Olivia received a letter, an invitation to discuss a potential commission for a private collector. The letter was formal, polite, but there was no mistaking in the signature at the bottom: Victor Husley, her first instinct was telling her to decline, nothing good could come out from associating with a man like him. Yet, the substantial f*e he offered for the commission was too high to ignore. With her father’s condition worsening and the bills piling up, she found herself with little choice.

So, against her better judgment, she accepts the invitation.

The meeting was set in a luxurious private room at one of the city's finest restaurants. As Olivia entered, she was immediately greeted by the sight of Victor, standing tall and imposing at the head of the table. He looked every bit like the powerful billionaire, reveling his confidence that was the edge of his arrogance.

"Miss Haye," he greeted her, his voice was smooth as ever. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

"I didn’t come for your company, Mr. Victor," she replied, taking a seat across from him. "You mentioned a commission. Let's keep this about business."

Victor's eyes glow with a dark amusement. "Oh, it is about business, Olivia. But my business is with you."

He leaned forward, his gaze was on hers. "I have a proposal, one that will clear all your debts and secure your future. But it’s not just about art. It’s about you, Olivia. I want you to be mine, and I’m willing to pay any price to make that happen."

Olivia's breath caught in her throat. His words were so calm yet possessive, which sent a shiver in her body. She met his gaze, but there was a hint of fear in her eyes now, a fear that he could indeed make her an offer she couldn’t refuse.

"You're insane if you think I would agree to something like that," she spat, her voice shaking with anger.

Victor’s expression didn’t fade. "Think about it," he said softly. "Your father's life, your freedom... everything has a price, Olivia. And I’m willing to pay it."

The room seemed to grow colder, and Olivia's heart raced with a mixture of disbelief. As she stood to leave, Victor's words echoed in her mind, leaving her with a feeling that she couldn’t shake, a sense that her life was about to change in ways she had never imagined.

To be continued.