CHAINS OF GLASS

Carson didn’t move away after his words. He lingered, his forehead almost touching hers, his breath steady while hers came in sharp, uneven pulls.

“You hide your brother,” he murmured, his thumb dragging lazily across the curve of her jaw. “Why? What is he to you beyond blood?”

Her throat tightened. She shook her head, but his hand slid lower, fingers curling gently around her neck, holding her in place without force. The gesture wasn’t choking yet it held power, making her pulse flutter wildly against his palm.

“Carson…” Her voice was raw, pleading. “Don’t.”

His eyes darkened, the storm gathering. “You think you can keep him untouched by this world. By me. But you’ve already led him into the lion’s den.”

Her chest ached, panic and guilt flooding her veins. “He’s innocent. He doesn’t belong here.”

Carson’s grip shifted, his hand sliding down to her collarbone, his fingertips brushing the neckline of her gown. The fabric whispered under his touch, and heat shivered through her despite the fury in her words.

“You’ll tell me everything,” he said softly, almost coaxing now. “Or I’ll find out on my own. And you won’t like how I dig.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. She hated him for the threat, hated him more for the hunger curling low in her belly at his nearness.

“You’re a bastard,” she whispered.

His lips curved in that cruel, devastating smile. “And you’re addicted to bastards.”

His hand slipped beneath the edge of her gown, fingertips grazing bare skin. She gasped, her back pressing into the glass behind her, torn between pushing him away and arching into his touch.

“Say his name,” Carson ordered, his voice a low command.

Her lips trembled. “Elias.”

His eyes flared at the word, at the way it left her mouth like both a prayer and a shield. His touch grew firmer, sliding along her ribs, claiming territory she wanted to deny him.

“You’ll trade pieces of yourself for him,” Carson murmured, his mouth brushing her ear. “And I’ll take every piece you offer. Until there’s nothing left but mine.”

Tears stung her eyes, not from weakness but from the terrifying truth of it.

Because Elias was her anchor. And Carson knew anchors made the perfect chains.

Carson’s fingers lingered against her skin, the heat of his touch sending currents through her body even as her heart screamed for distance.

He tilted her chin upward, his gray eyes burning like storm clouds ready to break. “Would you bleed for him?”

Her breath caught. “What?”

“Your brother.” His thumb brushed her lower lip, tracing it as though he owned the shape of her mouth. “Would you give me everything your secrets, your body, your will if it meant keeping him untouched?”

Her pulse thundered, trapped between fear and the devastating pull of his voice.

“That isn’t a choice,” she whispered.

“It’s the only choice that matters,” he countered, his tone silk wrapped around steel. His hand pressed lower, fingers grazing her hip through the gown, pinning her against the glass wall. “So show me, Justina. Show me how far you’ll go.”

Her knees threatened to give, the city lights glittering beneath them like a thousand watching eyes. She hated the hunger clawing at her, hated that her body betrayed her even as her mind screamed to resist.

“Carson…”

He bent his head, lips brushing the hollow of her throat, slow and possessive. “You can beg me to stop,” he murmured. “But if you don’t, I’ll take it as your answer.”

Her nails dug into the glass at her back. Every nerve in her body screamed with conflict rage and desire, love for her brother and the dangerous magnetism of the man before her.

She wanted to scream no. She wanted to break. Instead, what left her lips was a trembling whisper.

“Don’t hurt him.”

Carson’s mouth curved against her skin. “I won’t.”

And then he kissed her again harder this time, claiming, demanding while his hand slid deeper, tugging at silk until the gown threatened to fall from her shoulders.

Her gasp echoed against the glass, half fear, half heat. And in that sound, Carson heard his victory.

The gown slipped from her shoulder, the silk whispering to the floor like a secret betrayed.

Justina’s breath hitched, her hands clutching the glass behind her for balance, for sanity. The city sprawled beneath them, a glittering witness to her unraveling.

Carson’s hands framed her waist, firm, unyielding, his body caging hers with predatory certainty. He kissed her again, deeper this time, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with a hunger that stole thought from her mind.

She tried to resist her fingers pressing against his chest, pushing but the heat of his skin beneath the loosened shirt only pulled her deeper. Every inhale carried his scent, sharp and intoxicating. Every exhale left her weaker.

“Say it,” Carson demanded between kisses, his lips bruising hers.

Her eyes fluttered open, dazed. “Say what?”

“That you’ll give me anything to keep him safe.” His hand slid lower, fingers gripping her thigh, pulling her leg up against his hip. The movement forced her body closer to his, forced her to feel the hard proof of his arousal pressed against her.

A sound escaped her throat half sob, half moan. “Carson…”

He nipped at her jaw, his voice a dark growl. “Say it, or I’ll take more than you’re ready to give.”

Her chest heaved, her mind spiraling. She wanted to scream at him, to call him cruel, manipulative, a monster. But the truth spilled out instead, raw and broken.

“I’ll give you anything,” she whispered.

Carson stilled, his breath hot against her ear. Then, slowly, deliberately, he smiled.

“That’s all I needed.”

His hand slid higher, his touch bold now, claiming what she’d just promised. Justina’s head fell back against the glass, her body trembling as desire warred with despair. Every nerve lit beneath his touch, every inch of her screamed for release even as her soul cried rebellion.

Her hands tangled in his shirt, fists clenched not pulling him closer, not pushing him away. Trapped in the cruelest contradiction,wanting the man she should hate, surrendering for the sake of the one she loved.

When his mouth traced the line of her throat, when his fingers teased the edge of surrender, she knew this was no simple intimacy.

It was a transaction. A bargain written not in ink, but in skin.

And Carson Wills was collecting his due.

Carson lifted her easily, his strength effortless as he set her atop the edge of the bed. The silk of her gown slid further down her body, pooling at her waist, baring skin to his gaze like an offering.

Justina’s breath came ragged, her hands braced against the mattress, every muscle screaming for her to run. But her body betrayed her the tremor in her thighs, the heat curling low in her belly, the ache of anticipation she couldn’t smother.

Carson’s gaze swept over her, hungry, unrelenting. “You bargain with your lips,” he murmured, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. “Now bargain with your body.”

She shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. “You’re cruel.”

His smile was devastating. “I’m inevitable.”

He pushed her back gently but firmly until she lay sprawled across the sheets, the city lights spilling over her bare skin. His hands traced her slowly, deliberately, mapping her like she was territory he’d already conquered.

“Every inch of you,” he said, his voice low, “is collateral for him.”

Her throat tightened. “Don’t don’t talk about Elias now.”

Carson bent, his lips brushing her collarbone, his breath warm against her trembling flesh. “Then make me forget him. Make me think only of you.”

The demand tore through her, twisting pain into fire. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling not with power, but with desperation. She kissed him back, fierce, broken, giving him the answer he wanted and the surrender she swore she’d never offer.

The sheets rustled beneath them as his weight pressed her down, his body pinning hers in place. Every movement was deliberate, every touch designed to remind her that he was in control.

Her moans filled the room, soft at first, then louder, as he pushed her to the edge of madness. Shame mingled with heat, fury tangled with need.

“Carson…” she gasped, arching helplessly beneath him.

He lifted his head, his eyes wild with triumph and hunger. “You’ll never lie to me again, Justina. Not about him. Not about anything.”

Her chest heaved, her lips trembling. She wanted to deny it, to spit the words in his face. But when his mouth claimed hers again, when his touch dragged another cry from her throat, the truth came unbidden.

“I won’t,” she whispered, broken, surrendered.

And for the first time, Carson’s expression softened not with gentleness, but with something far more dangerous. Satisfaction.

The room was still.

The only sounds were her ragged breathing, the faint hum of the city beyond the glass, and the slow, steady rhythm of Carson’s heartbeat against her ear.

Justina lay tangled in silk sheets, her body trembling with the aftershocks of surrender. Every nerve still burned, every breath still carried the taste of him. Shame coiled in her chest, thick and suffocating.

She had given in. She had given him everything.

For Elias, she told herself. Always for Elias.

But deep inside, a voice whispered the truth she couldn’t bear to admit some part of her had wanted it. Wanted him.

Carson’s hand traced idle patterns along her spine, his touch almost tender, though she knew it was nothing but possession disguised as affection. “You tremble,” he murmured.

“Because I hate you,” she whispered, her voice raw.

He chuckled, low and dark. “Then hate me in my bed every night. Hate me until you can’t breathe. But don’t lie to yourself, Justina. You wanted this as much as I did.”

Her throat closed, hot tears stinging her eyes. She turned her face away, burying her cheek in the sheets. “You’re wrong.”

Carson tilted her chin back, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with quiet triumph. “I never am.”

She wanted to claw at him, to scream, to curse the gods for binding her fate to this man. Instead, she shivered beneath the weight of his stare, a prisoner of both her choices and her desires.

Then soft footsteps.

Justina’s heart lurched. Someone was in the hallway.

Carson straightened, his body going taut with alertness. The mask of the lover vanished, replaced by the razor-sharp instincts of the predator she knew him to be.

The door creaked open an inch. A small voice whispered, trembling and uncertain.

“Uncle Carson?”

Her blood froze.

A boy stood in the doorway no older than seven, with tousled dark hair and wide gray eyes that mirrored Carson’s exactly. He clutched a stuffed bear against his chest, blinking into the shadows of the room.

Carson’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking between the child and Justina.

In that instant, everything shifted.Carson Wills the ruthless billionaire, the man who had just broken her in every way was also something else.

A guardian. A secret father figure.And Justina realized, with a sinking heart, that she didn’t know him at all.