COST PRICE OF FAME.

AMY'S POV

I stood in front of the Lords of Fashion building, gazing at the glass tower skyscraper building design that holds my fate within their hands. Today was the day. My lifelong dream was finally here. Since I was little, I've always browsed pages of fashion magazines and wished that I was one of the models on it.

I ought to be filled with excitement, yet all I felt was this overwhelming fear.

For that dream cost me something. A price that I begged and bargained for, last night.

Liam's touch and kisses branded my skin, and I hated that my body still wanted him. Hated that he'd managed to flip everything on me, that I'd entered that room thinking that I was in charge—only to have exited that room knowing that he'd manipulated me effortlessly.

And here I was returning to his world, not as an aspiring model, chasing her dream but as a woman who sold herself to a man who saw her as a means of entertainment.

I straightened my back, jutting out my chin so that I would look assertive and took a deep breath before I entered.

The receptionist greeted me this time with a welcoming smile. "Miss Walters. The CEO has been waiting for you."

Of course, he had.

I smiled and walked towards the elevator. My legs were heavy, as if it carried the weight of my regret, but I didn't let it get to me.

Last night, there was a dangerous line. A line that had been crossed.

I stood in the doorway of Liam's office, my damp hand grasping the doorknob. "Snap out of it, Amy. This is a business transaction. You can handle it." I attempted to rev myself up, all too aware this wasn't 'just' a business transaction.

I opened the door and the moment our eyes clashed, a torrent of anger tore through my throat.

Damn him.

He sat behind the desk, his expression impassive, as if he hadn't spent the entire night stripping me bare and feasting on my body like his life depends on it.

"You're late," he growled, his tone bitter and raspy.

I raised one eyebrow. "Three minutes."

His eyes narrowed to mine, cold and corrosive. "Three minutes is a slice of precious time, Miss Walters. There's a strict rule of punctuality here."

So, now we are playing professional, huh?

I took one of the chairs in front of his desk without waiting for his invitation. He laid two contracts on the desk in front of me without wasting any time.

"Let's get this over with," he began, "This one," he placed his hand on one of them, "is a non-disclosure. You agree to the terms and condition of our relationship, keep it private-which means you can’t tell anyone about this. There will be no feelings attached, no invasion of each other's privacy, and you will get contraceptive shots from my personal doctor during the duration of the contract, to avoid unnecessary issues.”

The way that he had said the words, very cold and unbothered, gave me chills.

"And what happens if I breach any part of the contract?" I asked.

His lip curled into a sneer. "A lawsuit. And you will be blacklisted in the modelling agency if that happens. You don’t want to get into a court case with me, trust me.”

Oh sure, I wouldn't want to.

I gulped hard and kept a poker face while he went on and on talking about the second contract.

"This is your modeling contract. You will be the face of Lords of Fashion. This contract lasts for two years, which is enough to get you to the top post in New York city.”

My eyes lit up and I allowed myself to feel the excitement for a while, only for it to be killed by what he said next.

"For the span of those two years, you’ll prioritize this company above all opportunities you’ll be getting and your schedules and agreements will be managed by us. All the deals and endorsements that will be coming your way will be because of me and this company, and not because you are worthy, remember."

There it was. The offer and the leash that came with it.

I seethed at the contracts in silence, my hands shaking as I picked up the pen.

'Is this what you really want, Amy?' I questioned myself.

No.

But I had gone too far to turn back now.

I breathed deeply and signed the two contracts.

Liam didn't wait for another minute to put his signature on those papers next to mine, sealing my fate in them. He extended his hand. "Welcome to Lords of Fashion."

I took it. His handshake was firm.

"It's official now," he said with a self-satisfied grin.

"Sure," I growled, standing up to make a hasty exit.

But I'd barely made it halfway around the room before his voice caught me.

"Didn't you forget something, Miss Walters?"

I turned back to face him and frowned. "I don't think so."

He grinned. "Come over here." he motioned me over to his side of the desk.

There had been sneering arrogance in the way he'd spoken that made my heart stumble, but I acted like it didn’t. "Why?" I asked.

Liam tilted his head to the side, "Don't make me say it twice, Miss Walters."

I waited, then finally moved reluctantly and went over to him. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me to sit on his lap in a flash.

"Liam—" I gasped.

He pinned me down with his arms, leaning forward to my ears. His burning breath against my skin and making shivers track along my nerve endings. "You woke something in me last night, sweetheart. And now, you are going to take responsibility.”

His mouth crashed into mine before I was able to say anything.

There was flame coursing through me from the inside out. My hands laid flat on his chest, debating whether to push him back or draw him in. But I never got the chance. His hand located the zipper of my dress and he ripped it open in a swift movement.

I shoved him away, breaking the kiss. "We shouldn't…"

He pressed a finger to my lip, "shhhh." He breathed in my ear, pulling my dress all the way down to my waist, leaving me wearing only my black lace see-through bra.

I hadn't even gotten the chance to protest when the door creaked open.

I jumped up and slid under his desk subconsciously. "Shit!"