Only His to Touch

“Sign the papers, Sarah, or my men will drag you down the aisle by your hair.”

I stared at my father, Richard, standing in the doorway of my bedroom. Two armed guards flanked him, their hands resting casually on their holsters.

“And if I refuse?” I asked, keeping my voice perfectly even, even though my heart was slamming against my ribs.

“Then Enzo Vitale will burn this estate to the ground with us inside it,” Richard snapped. “He collects what he’s owed. Tomorrow at noon, you become Mrs. Vitale.”

The name sent a cold spike of terror down my spine. Enzo Vitale. The phantom of the underworld. A billionaire who owned half the city’s politicians and buried the other half. Nobody knew what he looked like. They only knew that if he wanted you, you were already dead.

“You’re selling me to a monster,” I whispered.

“I’m saving this family,” he said, tossing a thick manila envelope onto my bed. “Don't do anything stupid. The house is locked down.”

He stepped back and slammed the door. The heavy deadbolt clicked into place, echoing through the silent room.

I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I just stared at the locked door for exactly ten seconds. Then, I moved.

I grabbed the envelope and shoved it into my black duffel bag. I didn't bother changing my clothes; my dark jeans and tight sweater were already perfect for a night run. I ripped the sheets off my bed, tied them into a tight, makeshift rope, and anchored it to the heavy oak bedpost.

I slid the glass window up. The freezing night air hit my face. I threw my bag down first, watching it disappear into the shadows of the rose bushes below. Then I climbed out.

My fingers gripped the knotted silk, my feet finding the stone crevices of the estate wall. I moved quickly, my breath puffing in the cold air. When I hit the ground, I didn't stop. I dropped into a low crouch and sprinted toward the ten-foot perimeter wall.

The gravel crunched behind me.

A flashlight beam swept across the grass, inches from my boot. I pressed my back flat against the thick trunk of an oak tree, holding my breath. A guard walked past, humming under his breath, completely oblivious. I waited until he turned the corner, then bolted for the wall.

I jumped, my fingers catching the wrought-iron spikes at the top. The sharp metal dug into my palms, drawing blood, but I ignored the pain. I hauled myself up and over, dropping hard onto the wet asphalt of the alleyway.

I was out.

I ran three blocks, my lungs burning, until a pair of headlights flashed in the darkness of an empty parking lot. I threw open the passenger door of the black sedan and dove inside.

“Drive!” I ordered.

Chloe didn't ask questions. She slammed her foot on the gas, and the tires squealed, leaving the Vance estate behind in a cloud of exhaust.

“You actually jumped out the window,” Chloe breathed, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Sarah, this is insane.”

“I wasn't going to wait around to be sold like cattle,” I said, pulling my seatbelt across my chest. I looked in the side mirror. The dark road behind us was empty. For now.

“So we run. I have cash at my apartment. We can drive to the border.”

“No. He’ll track the airports and highways. We need a loophole.” I ripped open the envelope and pulled out the marriage contract. “If I’m already married by morning, the contract is void. A man like Enzo Vitale won't accept a wife who’s already been claimed by another man. It’s a matter of pride.”

Chloe looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “You want to find a fake husband in the middle of the night?”

“Take me to The Elite.”

Twenty minutes later, the bass of the underground club vibrated through my bones. The air was thick with the smell of expensive whiskey and desperate secrets. I pushed through the sweaty crowd, grabbing the lapel of a drunk businessman.

“I need a husband. One night. A million dollars. Sign the papers.”

He shoved me off, spilling his drink. “Get lost, sweetheart.”

I tried another. “A contract marriage. One million dollars.”

“Move out of my way before I call security.”

My chest tightened. I was running out of time. The clock was ticking, and the walls were closing in.

A blood-curdling scream cut through the bass of the music.

The energy in the VIP section died. People parted like the Red Sea. Two massive guards were dragging a sobbing woman out by her hair.

Behind her, a man in a black suit sat in the corner booth. His head was bowed, his hands gripping the table so tight the wood looked ready to splinter. His entire body was violently trembling. Another woman in a red dress tried to touch his arm, and he violently flinched, a guttural, animalistic roar tearing from his throat.

“Get her off me!” he snarled.

The guards yanked the woman away.

Chloe grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “We need to leave. Now.”

I shook her off. I didn't see a monster. I saw a man trapped in his own personal hell, violently rejecting the world around him. He was exactly how I felt.

I walked straight past the security guards. I stopped right in front of the trembling man in the black suit.

He lifted his head. His eyes were pitch black, wild with pain and fury.

“I need a husband,” I said, my voice unshakeable. “A contract marriage. Tonight. I’ll pay you a million dollars.”

He didn't speak. He just stared at me like a predator sizing up prey.

I reached out and grabbed his wrist.

The violent trembling stopped instantly. The agony in his eyes vanished, replaced by a terrifying, razor-sharp focus. He slowly looked down at my hand on his skin, then back up to my face.

“A contract marriage?” he asked, his voice a dark, dangerous rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Just for one night,” I said firmly.

He stood up, towering over me. He didn't let go of my wrist. He pulled me close, dragging me toward the back exit and into a dark, empty hallway.

He pushed me back against the brick wall, caging me in with his massive frame. His dark eyes dropped to my lips, then slowly traced down my body. The sheer intensity of his gaze made my knees weak.

“You’re paying a million dollars to escape a monster,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips brushed the shell of my ear.

I held my breath, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. The heat radiating from his chest was suffocating, intoxicating.

He pulled back, his eyes flashing with a dark, possessive hunger.

“Let’s see if you’re worthy of being my wife,” he whispered, his thumb brushing dangerously close to my pulse point. “Or if you'll tremble the moment I touch you.”