Chapter 1

Vivienne’s Pov

The eviction notice taped to the frosted glass of the Sterling House atelier felt like a physical slap to the face.

I stared at the bold, red lettering until the ink blurred, my fingernails biting so hard into my palms that I almost broke the skin. The silence in the showroom was suffocating. Three generations. My grandmother had built this high-fashion empire from a single, rusted sewing machine. My mother had bled for it, pouring her soul into every sketch and seam.

And in less than six months, my father had gambled it all into a black hole of offshore debts and vanished into the night.

He had left me here to stand in the graveyard of my family’s legacy.

The showroom was gutted. The custom mannequins stood bare in the shadows, stripped of the silk and organza that used to drape their stiff limbs. The bank had already frozen the accounts, and the suppliers had taken back their fabrics. The air, which used to smell of expensive perfume and fresh linen, now just smelled of stale dust and failure.

A heavy crack of thunder rattled the floor-to-ceiling windows, mirroring the violent storm raging in my chest. I wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold my shattering world together. I had to fix this. I had to find a way. If I lost the building, I lost the only income I had left to support my younger sister, Sienna.

The heavy mahogany double doors at the front of the atelier swung open in force.

I spun around, my heart jumping into my throat as my hands flew to my throat and a soft gasp escaped me. I expected the bank representatives, or perhaps the aggressive debt collectors who had been calling her burner phone for a week.

I did not expect Julian Vance to stalk into the room like he owned it. Such annoying arrogant twerp. He moved with a predatory, lethal grace that immediately made the massive showroom feel small and I hated it. He was dressed in a charcoal bespoke suit that clung to his broad shoulders, radiating power, wealth, and an icy, untouchable authority.

To the rest of New York, Julian Vance was a brilliant, reclusive tech billionaire. A corporate god. But standing here, in the dim light of my ruined fashion house, there was nothing corporate about the dark, violent energy rolling off him. His jaw was clenched, sharp enough to cut glass, and his eyes—a terrifying, freezing shade of blue—locked onto me with the intensity of a sniper finding his mark.

"The bank takes possession at five o'clock, Mr. Vance," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. I lifted my chin, refusing to let him see my shaky hands.

"You're trespassing." Julian didn't stop until he was only a few feet away. Up close, he smelled of cedar, rain, and danger. He looked down at me, his expression utterly blank.

"The bank doesn't own this building anymore, Vivienne," his voice was a low, rough gravel that sent a shiver straight down my spine. "I do."

My breathing stopped as I tried to process what he meant. "What?"

Julian reached inside his tailored jacket, pulled out a thick, leather-bound folder, and dropped it onto the glass reception desk. The heavy thud echoed in the empty room.

"I bought the Sterling debt at nine o'clock this morning," he announced. His freezing eyes roaming over my face, calculating my panic. "Every failed loan. Every defaulted mortgage. Every cent your coward of a father stole from his investors before he fled the country. I hold the strings now."

Bile rose in my throat, anger and hate for a man I barely knew filled me at once. Julian Vance was a shark. He bought failing companies, gutted them for their assets, and left the remains to rot. But a couture fashion house? It made no sense.

"Why?" I choked out as I fought to control the rage of everything happening around me, stepping up to the desk. "Sterling House has nothing left for you to strip, Julian. We’re bankrupt. We have no tech assets. We have nothing of value to a man like you. So what do you want?"

Julian stepped closer. He invaded my personal space, forcing me to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. The sheer heat radiating from his large frame was intoxicating, but the absolute deadness in his eyes was terrifying. He stood for everything I hated, I've never grown hatred for a human in such a short period of time. I hate just his mere existence, the mere thought of smoldering him sent a delicious shiver down my spine but my face was blank.

"I didn't buy your company for the assets," he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to my eyes. "I bought it for leverage."

He reached out, his long, aristocratic fingers flipping the folder open.

"Your father was sloppy when he ran," Julian continued, his tone dangerously conversational. "He didn't just drain the accounts. He committed federal wire fraud. And to bypass the security protocols, he needed a secondary board member's signature."

My blood ran ice cold. "No..."

"Yes," Julian said softly. He tapped a manicured finger against a photocopied document in the file. "He forged Sienna’s signature. On twelve different illegal transfers."

"Sienna is nineteen!" I screamed, the fire in my chest erupting. I slammed my hands onto the glass desk. "She doesn't know anything about the finances! She’s innocent! My father did this, not her!"

"The federal government won't care," Julian replied without missing a beat. He was a wall of ice against my raging fire. "The FBI has the documents. Fraud on this scale carries a minimum sentence of fifteen years in a federal penitentiary. Your little sister won't survive a month there, let alone a decade."

I couldn't breathe. The room was spinning. Sienna. Sweet, sheltered, innocent Sienna, locked in a cage because of their father’s greed. A tear finally broke free, sliding down my cheek, something I hated so much to do in front of soggy pants. What a timing, but this was my sister we were on about, my sweet Sienna.

Julian’s eyes tracked the tear, a dark, unreadable emotion flashing in his glacial stare for just a second before it vanished.

"I can make it disappear," Julian stated.

I froze, looking up at him through my wet lashes. I knew I was giving off the vulnerable vibes to a shark like him but he shouldn't be mistaken. "What?"

"I have the original documents. I have the prosecutors in my pocket," Julian stepped so close his chest brushed against mine. The contact sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core. "I can wipe the debt clean. I can bury the fraud. I can make sure Sienna’s name is never mentioned in a courtroom."

"You..." I swallowed hard, my mind racing to catch up with his crazy game. "You would do that? For what in return?"

Julian reached into the folder one last time. He pulled out a fresh, crisp document. The heavy parchment paper was blank, save for a few lines of text at the very bottom, and a space for a signature.

He slid a heavy gold fountain pen across the glass, stopping it right in front of her.

"I want a wife," Julian demanded softly, the absolute authority in his voice leaving no room for negotiation. "You sign this contract. You take my name. You move into my home. You belong to me, completely and without question. You do that, and Sienna walks free."

I stared at the pen, my stomach twisted into violent knots. I was backed into a corner and he was my savior, devilish savior. I looked up at the towering, gorgeous, terrifying man standing over her. He wasn't just a businessman. There was a darkness in him, a violent shadow lurking just beneath his expensive suit.

"And if I say no?" I whispered, my voice shaking with rage.

Julian leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. The warm breath sent a violent shudder through her entire body.

"You have until the ink dries on this page, Vivienne," he whispered, his tone laced with a venomous promise. "Marry me, or I make the call right now, and I watch them drag

your little sister away in handcuffs."