Five

<JACK>

Her eyes dropped to the purse.

"I told you. I don't have anything that belongs to you."

I reached for it. She pulled back.

We struggled over the strap — her hands locked around it, mine closing over hers — and her robe slipped open at the shoulder. She didn't notice. She was too busy holding on.

Then she let go.

The purse hit the ground. The watch slid out, bounced once, and shattered against the stone.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

I bent down and picked it up. The face was cracked. The glass was everywhere. I turned it over in my hand, watching the light catch the broken pieces.

"Not only are you a stripper," I said coldly, "but you're also a professional thief."

Her eyes widened. Slowly. Like the words were sinking in one at a time.

I lifted the damaged watch between us.

"And you stole one of the most expensive things in this house."

She clutched her robe closed at the throat.

"You left me with no choice." Her voice was tight. "You wasted my time, and then your fiancée slapped me."

"You could have walked away without stealing from me."

"You could have treated me like a person."

My jaw tightened.

The thing was — she wasn't wrong. But being right and being safe are two different things, and she'd just bet everything on the wrong one.

"I could arrest you for this," I said. "Or worse. I could make sure you never see daylight again."

She shifted backward. Her face went pale. Not dramatic — just the blood leaving quietly, the way it does when someone finally understands the math.

My eyes moved toward the mansion.

Through the window, I could see Skylark and my father laughing together. Her hand on his arm. His head tilted toward her like she was the daughter he'd actually wanted.

Something almost like a smile touched my mouth.

An idea formed. Small at first. Then bigger.

I grabbed Ariana's hand.

"Come with me."

She stumbled as I pulled her forward, struggling to keep up with my pace.

"Where are you taking me?"

I didn't answer. I tightened my grip and led her toward the mansion, the broken watch still clenched in my other hand.

I slammed the door open and pushed her onto the bed.

She scrambled to sit up, pressing herself against the headboard, clutching her robe closed like it was the only thing she had left.

"What the hell is your problem?" she demanded.

I studied her for a moment. Then a quiet chuckle escaped me before I could stop it.

I must be insane for considering this.

I pulled a chair closer and sat down in front of her, resting one arm against the backrest.

"I've been thinking," I said.

She didn't respond. Just watched me like I was something that might bite.

"Instead of punishing you, we should make a deal. What do you think?"

She stared at me in disbelief.

"I don't want anything to do with you or your crazy deal."

I leaned forward.

"You don't have a choice, sweetheart. You either accept it, or you face the consequences."

Her eyes moved around the room — the door, the window, the distance between us. Calculating. Even now.

"I'm happy with my life. I don't need your help."

I stared at her. Then a smirk tugged at my mouth.

"You mean this life?"

I lifted the broken watch between us.

"Selling your body for a few dollars and stealing to make up the difference?"

Her brows drew together.

"That's none of your business." Her voice sharpened. "Unlike you, some people have to struggle in this world."

She paused. Her jaw worked.

"But let me guess — you don't understand that. Of course you don't. You're just a spoiled rich kid who treats people like dirt."

I rolled my eyes. The insult landed somewhere, but not where she wanted it to.

"Whatever," I said. "Like I said. I'm trying to change your life. You don't need to worry."

She rolled her eyes and stared at the wall.

"Sign a contract with me."

Nothing.

"Or should I say—" I leaned back in the chair. "Marry me."

That got her. She finally looked at me.

"What do you mean, marry me?"

"Don't you think it would be better to live in luxury than keep doing dirty work?"

I let my eyes move over her. Slow. Deliberate. I wanted her to feel it.

"Although you're not exactly my type in a—"

She cut me off with a sharp laugh.

"Today is a funny day, isn't it?" Her voice dripped. "Why the hell would I want to marry someone who treats me like I'm nothing but leftovers waiting to be thrown away?"

Her eyes hardened.

"Look, Mr. Jack, or whatever you call yourself — I'm not interested, and I never will be. So take that back."

"Hmm." I tilted my head. "You're quite stubborn."

"What did you call me?"

"Look, Ariana." I leaned forward again, elbows on my knees. "You have no choice. Either you sign the contract, or you regret refusing."

I let the silence sit.

"I don't have to explain what I could do to you. Or to someone close to you."

Her breathing changed. Small. Almost invisible. But I caught it.

"This is your only chance to make your crime disappear."

She climbed onto the bed, anger flashing across her face. She wasn't backing down. She was stepping up.

"Why would I marry you when your wedding is next week? That's even more ridiculous."

She shook her head.

"I know I strip and do things you probably look down on. But I'm not a husband snatcher."

"She isn't my wife," I said.

"Says the man whose wedding is next week."

She snapped the words at me like she was trying to draw blood.

I moved closer.

"Talk all you want. You're still going to sign this."

Before she could answer, my phone buzzed.

I pulled it out and read the message. It took a second for the words to land. Then a slow smile spread across my face.

I looked up at her.

"Your grandmother is in the hospital, isn't she?"

Ariana froze.

I watched it happen — the way her whole body went still, the way her hands stopped moving, the way the fight drained out of her face and left something much younger behind.

I lifted my gaze to hers.

"My men are with her.”