CHAPTER FIVE

SIARA.

Oh fuck. This is it. My thoughts screamed as my chest tightened, my breaths coming in shallow gasps. It’s over. I’m going to die.

The man's piercing silver eyes bored into me, unwavering, as if he could see through every lie I'd ever told. My hands shook in my lap, my pulse racing like a cornered animal. Desperation clawed at my throat, and I blurted out, "I'm sorry, but you've got the wrong woman!"

His head tilted slightly, an almost amused expression flickering across his face. "Do you really take me for a fool?

I whipped back, "Yes, if it took this long to find me," without thinking. The second those words left my mouth, my hand flew up over my lips, and my eyes went wide with horror. What the hell am I doing?

The man’s brows rose slightly, genuine surprise softening the sharp angles of his face for just a moment. A breath of silence passed between us before the corner of his lips twitched—not quite a smile, more like a predator amused by its prey.

I quickly cleared my throat to try again, my voice breaking, "I mean, really-there's been some kind of mistake. I didn't steal anything. I wouldn't even know how, Mr...?"

"Dante."

"Right. Yes. Mr.Dante. Really, I...."00

Dante moved slowly, deliberately, leaning back in his seat as he reached for his back pocket. My words died in my throat when his hand reemerged holding a sleek, black pistol. He set it on the table between us with a soft clink, his fingers drumming once against the barrel before folding together.

My stomach dropped.

"Enough." His voice was low but held within it a weight that shut her up completely. He didn't raise the gun or point it at her-he didn't have to. The message was clear.

My shoulders sagged in defeat, and my hands wrung in my lap while my bottom lip shook. "I… I didn't mean to," I swore, words tumbling before my inner editor could clip the spill. "It's not what you think—I only took it because—because my mom." My voice cracked high, and I swatted at my eyes, humiliated at the threat of spilling tears.

His gaze didn't waver, those silver eyes digging into me like twin daggers. He said nothing, only waited as I babbled on.

"She's sick. I-I didn't have any other choice! Her treatment was expensive, and the hospital was going to kick her out if I didn't pay. I swear, I wouldn't have done it if I wasn't desperate.

When I finally fell silent, he continued to watch me, his face unreadable. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled a plume of smoke and leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees.

"I know," he said evenly.

I blinked, stunned. "You… you know?"

He nodded once, his expression hardening. "I know everything about you, Siara Movark. Your mother's illness, your dead beat dad, your mentor, your crushed dreams, your countless part time jobs. But none of that changes the fact that you stole from me."

My chest tightened. "I didn't think-"

"No," he interrupted, his voice slicing through me like a knife. "You didn't think so. And now we're here.

It was more unnerving than if he'd yelled. Hard, I swallowed, bizarrely feeling like a scolded child.

"How… how did you even find me?"

He dismissed my question, tapping ash from his cigarette into a crystal tray. "Tell me how you did it."

My throat constricted. "How did I do that?" Lying and denying came instinctively.

His sharp gaze cut to me, and I winced. "Don't play dumb, Siara. You hacked one of my accounts—a secured system designed by the world's best programmers. How?"

There was no longer any point in lying. "I used… something I created. A dummy program," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

He raised a brow, leaning back again as he regarded me. "A dummy creation of yours managed to breach my system?

I shrugged weakly. "I didn't think it would actually work."

He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. He lit another cigar and took another drag from it, the smoke curling around his chiseled features.

My eyes flicked to his broad shoulders, the undone buttons of his crisp shirt revealing a hint of his toned chest. The veins in his forearms stood out as he brought the cigarette to his lips, his movements slow and deliberate.

I bit my lip without realizing it, my gaze lingering longer than it should have.

When I finally looked up, I froze. His silver eyes were locked on my mouth, the intensity of his gaze sending heat crawling up my neck.

Clearing my throat, I quickly looked away. "So… what now?"

He sighed, leaning back into his seat as though bored. "You owe me twenty thousand dollars. And an extra ten thousand for Stealing from me in the first place.

My stomach dropped further. "I don't have that kind of money," I said quickly to which he responded with, "No shit." I pursed my lips in annoyance. "I only have about five thousand left."

"Then we have a problem." He said simply. "There is another option, though."

My heart skipped a beat. "What… what option?"

He met my gaze, his expression unreadable. "Work for me."

My brows furrowed. "Work for you?

"For a year," he explained. "If you accept, I will consider your debt settled. I will also make sure your mother receives the best treatment possible-no expenses spared."

My mouth fell open. "You're serious?"

"I don't waste my time on jokes."

My mind was racing. "What kind of work?"

"You'll sign a contract," he said smoothly. "You'll relocate to my base and stay for the duration of the year. You won't leave, break the contract, or disclose anything you see or hear. If you refuse…"

His gaze flicked lazily to the gun on the table.

My breath hitched.

"…You die," he concluded, his tone as casual as if he was discussing the weather. "And the men stationed near your mother make certain she doesn't see another sunrise either."

I gasped; my vision swam. "You wouldn't—"

"Try me."

Tears blinded me and I weighed her options; it wasn't really a choice, as he had placed me in a corner.

"I don't…" My voice cracked. "I don't have an option, do I?"

"Nope.".

My shoulders sagged in defeat. "Fine," I whispered. "I'll do it."

His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. He reached into a sleek briefcase and produced a contract, sliding it across the table along with a gold pen.

"Sign," he ordered.

My hand hovered over the pen, trembling. I hesitated, my mind screaming at me to run. But where?

Taking a shaky breath, I picked up the pen and pressed it to the dotted line. With a quick scrawl, I signed my name, sealing my fate.

When I looked up, his gaze was cruel, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

“Welcome aboard, Siara Movark.”