02: A Sinister Offer

ALEXA

        Like a drowning person, I gasped, jolting awake in bed. My eyes darted around the large unfamiliar room, my heart rate spiking. I could still hear the echoes of gunshots from my dream, the hair on the back of my neck prickling.

I groaned, pressing the heel of my palm against my eye socket. My head felt as though I'd just smashed it against a rock. Gods, I hate hangovers. Drinking last night was definitely a mistake. One I shouldn't have made.

Speaking of last night...

The last thing I remembered was the stranger's piercing blue eyes. Merely thinking about them made me ache in ways I couldn't explain.

Did I sleep with him? I wondered, reaching for the white sheets to push them off my body.

My eyes bulged in their sockets when I saw that I was only wearing a white long-sleeved shirt that definitely belonged to a man. And judging from the delicious scent oozing from it, it belonged to...

"Killian!" I blurted out, stumbling out of bed. Cursing under my breath, I felt around the bed for my phone, and when I finally found it, I breathed a sigh of relief.

But that relief was momentarily cut short when I realized that my battery was too low. I brought a hand to my head in frustration, and just then, I caught sight of the neatly folded dress on the nightstand. My dress.

I hurried over to it, frowning when I saw the note and the business card attached to the dress. The business card had the name 'Killian Cross' in elegant cursive. Apparently, he was the CEO of the Crux Bellator Group.

The handwriting on the note caught my eye. It was pretty, not something you would expect from a man who exuded dark charisma.

I read the note aloud, a frown creasing up my brows.

"No, I did not fuck you despite how badly you tempted me to, you little temptress."

Heat bloomed on my cheeks, but I continued reading anyway.

"You threw up on your dress. I had it washed. I guess old habits die hard. Here I am, cleaning up after your mess. Again."

My brows drew together, confusion sinking into me. Did he know me before?

My heart leapt in my chest. Perhaps he knew what I used to be like before I lost my memory and married Vincent.

"Against your charms, I stand no chance. I came so close to fucking you until you couldn't walk, but if I'm going to touch you, I want you to be aware of every second. I want to brand every moment in your brain, Tesora."

I bit my lower lip, clamping my thighs together when heat curled low in my belly. It was absurd for the stranger to elicit such a reaction from me when he wasn't even in the room with me.

Who the hell was this guy?

"Meet me at the Rosemary suite, 7PM. Don't be late, Tesora. Do not tempt me to spank you over the table."

I dropped the paper, my jaw slackened with disbelief. Who the hell did he think he was?

That question lingered on my mind even as I stepped into the rosemary suite by 6:53PM, knots tightening in my stomach.

My gaze rested on him the instant I stepped into the lobby.

Killian Cross.

How could I not notice him? His presence seemed to envelop the entire space. He was a sight to behold tonight.

Dressed in a black shirt and tailored pants with a long leather coat and gloves, he looked like he belonged on the front page of a beauty magazine.

His eyes found mine, and that dirty smirk of his sent my heart into overdrive. Clearing my throat, I raised my chin and strode towards him, refusing to show how much he affected me.

His smirk lingered on his lips as he rose to his full height.

My breath hitched. He was tall. Probably at least 6'2 ft. I'd been too drunk to notice this the previous night.

In a few strides, he was right in front of me.

"Seven minutes early," Killian drawled, his voice a deep, velvet caress that slid down my spine. "Afraid I'd spank you, Tesora?"

I narrowed my eyes, trying to summon fire to cover the tremor in my limbs. "Don't flatter yourself. I just don't like being late."

"Mm." He studied me, his eyes dragging over me like he was already undressing me with his gaze. "That red dress is a bold choice." His eyes dropped to my red lipstick-coated lips. "I like it."

My stomach flipped. "I didn't ask for your opinion."

He leaned in, his mouth so close to my ear that his breath tickled my skin. "But it makes you feel good, doesn't it?"

My cheeks burned. I hated that he was right. I couldn't recall the last time my dead husband had complimented me. No, he just never did.

Still, I felt uneasy by how quickly this stranger was unravelling me.

We settled at the table, the air between us heavy with unspoken words. Killian's posture spoke of dominance and refined danger. His long legs were sprawled beneath the table, an expression of absolute control etched on his face. I, on the other hand, was all fire, barely containing the storm brewing inside me.

"Please," I said, my voice colder than I'd intended, though the tremor beneath it betrayed the heat still surging through my veins. "Don't tell me you've brought me here to make me an offer I can't refuse."

His lips quirked up, amusement lighting up his annoyingly beautiful eyes. "You always have a choice, Alexa. But the choices you make? They'll determine if you live or die."

"What do you want?" I droned.

He cracked a smile at me. "For your own sake, a contract marriage. Twelve months, nothing more."

I scoffed, reaching for the glass of wine in front of me, trying to mask the tightness in my chest. "You're joking."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping an octave, all business now. "What if I told you your life is in danger? That there are people looking for you. People who don't care who you were or what you've been through. All they care about is what you know. And they'll stop at nothing to make sure you never speak again."

Something cold slithered down my spine. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Killian reached inside his coat and slid a manila envelope across the table.

"Open it," he said.

Reluctantly, I did.

Inside was a surveillance photo. It showed me standing beside a man I didn't recognize. I looked different. Colder. My face was partly hidden by a dark hood. But it was me.

I was holding a gun.

A real gun.

I sucked in a sharp breath. "What... what is this?"

"That photo was taken two years ago in Ukraine. The man beside you is dead now. Shot in the head."

"That's impossible," I whispered. "I was with Vincent. I—"

Killian interrupted me. "You think your memory loss was natural? You were wiped clean, Alexa. Someone made sure you forgot everything. But there are still people who know what you did, and they want you silenced."

My hands trembled. "You're lying."

"I'm offering you protection. Marriage gives you my name, my power. Nobody touches what's mine."

The words hit me like ice water to the face, but I held my ground, determined not to let him see the flicker of fear in my eyes. "And you think a marriage contract will stop them?" I spat, my voice thick with contempt. "A yearlong arrangement where I owe you what—my soul? My freedom?"

He didn't flinch. "Not your soul. Your loyalty. To me."

My pulse spiked, a mix of anger and confusion swelling in my chest. "Loyalty? You think I'd sign something like that? To a stranger?"

I didn't care that he might be a part of a past I'd forgotten. His offer felt too sinister.

"I'm offering you a choice," Killian continued, his eyes piercing mine as though he could see through every defence I'd built. "A choice that guarantees your survival. No one from your past...your late husband's enemies, no one from Vincent's side...will come near you. I'll give you wealth, protection, and freedom. But it's simple, Alexa. All you have to do is trust me. For twelve months."

My heart pounded in my ears as I processed his words. My lips parted, but nothing came out at first. Finally, the only sound I could make was a bitter laugh. "Twelve months? And after that? What, I'm free to go? You think I'd trust someone like you?"

I pushed my chair back abruptly, my wine glass trembling in my hand as my anger flared. "I don't need your protection. I've survived this long without your help, Killian. I didn't ask for this."

His eyes darkened, just a flicker, but it was enough to make me pause. And I caught a glimpse of the danger in his eyes. It unsettled me.

"You're wrong, Tesora." His voice was soft, almost too soft, as if he were speaking a truth that would change everything. "You won't survive without me."

I stood, the motion so sharp it rattled the table, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. "You think you can just walk into my life and offer me a contract like it's some kind of deal? You think you can buy me with your wealth and protection? You don't know who I am."

He cocked his head, looking smug. Way too smug. "You don't have a choice."

My hand trembled with fury, my eyes meeting his.

"Maybe this will make you understand."

With a jarring motion, I flung the glass, sending the deep red liquid splashing across his dark coat.