Ruthless Affair

Isabella Martinez's hands trembled as she read the marriage contract for the third time, the words blurring before her eyes in the dimly lit study of her family's Manhattan penthouse. Her father's vintage Cartier clock ticked away mercilessly, each second bringing her closer to the moment she'd have to sign.

"The terms are non-negotiable." Alexander Kane's deep voice cut through the silence like a steel blade.

She forced herself to look up at him. At forty, he was devastatingly handsome in that ruthless way that made smart women run for cover, all sharp angles and controlled power. His charcoal suit probably cost more than her car, and his steel-grey eyes held all the warmth of a midwinter storm.

"You expect me to agree to this?" Isabella gestured at the contract, her voice steadier than she felt. "A one-year marriage with 'full spousal duties' and no divorce option unless you initiate it?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I expected your sister to agree to it. But since Victoria chose to elope with her..." his lip curled in disbelief, "photographer”, you're the replacement. Unless you'd prefer to watch your father's company collapse by morning?"

The threat hung in the air between them. Isabella glanced at her father, Antonio Martinez, who sat slumped in his leather chair looking a decade older than his fifty-five years. Three weeks ago, he'd been on top of the world. Now, after Victoria's betrayal and the subsequent stock market massacre, he was one signature away from losing everything.

"Why marriage?" Isabella asked. "If this is just business, why not a simple merger?"

Alexander's laugh held no humor. "Because, Miss Martinez, I've learned that contracts can be broken, boards can be swayed, and partnerships can dissolve. But marriage?" He leaned forward, his cologne – something expensive and masculine – invading her space. "Marriage gives me legal rights that no corporate lawyer can undo. Plus," his eyes swept over her in a way that made her skin heat despite her anger, "it keeps things... interesting."

"Isabella," her father's accented voice was rough with emotion, "mi hija, you don't have to—"

"Yes, she does," Elena, Isabella's stepmother, cut in sharply from her perch by the window. "Unless you want three thousand employees jobless by next week. Unless you want your late wife's legacy destroyed."

The manipulation was obvious, but effective. Isabella's mother had built Martinez Industries from nothing, dreaming of creating opportunities for other immigrant women like herself. She'd died believing her company would continue that mission.

"The prenup is generous," Alexander continued, as if discussing the weather. "Ten million dollars after one year of marriage, plus a divorce with no contest if I choose to end it. All you have to do is play the devoted wife in public and..." his eyes darkened, "in private."

Heat flooded Isabella's cheeks. At twenty-three, she wasn't naive about what he was implying. The thought of sharing this man's bed sent conflicting shivers of fear and something else – something she refused to acknowledge – down her spine.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then by this time tomorrow, Martinez Industries will be carved up and sold to the highest bidders." He checked his Patek Philippe watch. "You have five minutes to decide."

Isabella stood, needing to put physical distance between herself and Alexander Kane's overwhelming presence. The New York skyline sparkled beyond the window, a view she'd loved since childhood. How many times had she sat in this study, watching her mother work late into the night, dreaming of following in her footsteps?

Now her dreams of finishing business school and earning her own place in the company were going up in smoke. All because her step-sister had decided true love was more important than family obligation.

"Why me?" she asked quietly, still facing the window. "You could marry anyone."

She heard him stand, felt him move closer. "Because you, Isabella, are the only thing your father truly loves more than his company." His voice dropped to a whisper near her ear. "And I always take what my enemies value most."

The words sent ice through her veins. She spun to face him, finding him much closer than expected. This close, she could see the flecks of silver in his eyes, the tiny scar above his left eyebrow, the way his five o'clock shadow made him look dangerous rather than unkempt.

"You're doing this for revenge?"

His smile was shark-like. "Business is always personal, sweetheart. Your father should have remembered that before he tried to take over my company five years ago."

"That was Victoria's idea—"

"And now she's gone, leaving you to pay her debt." He reached out, catching a loose strand of her dark hair between his fingers. "Time's up, Isabella. What's it going to be?"

She looked at her father again, saw the defeat in his eyes, thought of all the families depending on Martinez Industries. Then she looked at Alexander Kane, the man who would be her husband, and saw her future in his merciless gaze.

"Where do I sign?"

His smile of victory made her blood run cold. He released her hair and picked up a Mont Blanc pen, offering it like a weapon.

"Welcome to the family, Mrs. Kane."

As Isabella took the pen, she made herself a promise: she would survive this year, protect her father's company, and never, ever let Alexander Kane see her cry. But as she signed her name with trembling fingers, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was making a deal with the devil himself.

And devils, she knew, always collected their due.