TIED TO A RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE

"Miss Isla, it’s time to wake up."The voice was gentle, but it sliced through the fog in Isla’s head like cold water. Her eyes flew open to an unfamiliar ceiling, soft ivory, gold accents. Luxury. The kind that didn’t belong to her. She sat up too fast, silk sheets slipping off her shoulder."Where... where am I?""You're at Mr. Vasilios' penthouse," the maid answered with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Your room."Right. The contract. The signature. The cold, perfect words: "You belong to me now.""He wants you to have breakfast in the dining hall. You have fifteen minutes."Clicking heels faded down the hall.Isla swallowed hard. Her throat was dry. Her body felt like it didn’t belong to her. A satin robe hugged her frame and someone had dressed her. She hadn’t even realized when she’d fallen asleep. Her feet touched the warm floor. It felt too smooth, too foreign.Her chest tightened.She didn’t belong here."You’re late," Ares said, not looking up.He sat at the head of a m

Isla’s POVI woke up just before sunrise.The first light poured through the glass, casting golden streaks across the room.He lay beside me, still asleep. One arm stretched over the bed like he owned the whole world.I watched him.Even in sleep, he looked powerful. Dangerous.I couldn’t stay.If I stayed, I might start believing this meant something.I got dressed. crumpled dress, sore feet, dignity hanging by a thread. I grabbed my shoes, my bag, and what little pride I had left.I didn’t expect comfort.But I never expected a price tag.I looked back once. He was asleep barely covered by the sheet, all lean muscle and stillness. Beautiful in a way that makes you forget to breathe. Untouchable.What was I even hoping for? That he’d wake up, ask for my number, walk me to the door, or pretend to care?Stupid.I reached for the door.And just then it opened.She walked in, almost bumping into me. Blonde bun, sharp suit, polite but unreadable face. The kind of employee you only see ar

The car eased to a stop in front of the glittering event hall. Marble pillars shimmered beneath golden lights, and the blur of tuxedos and gowns moved like a current through the velvet ropes.Isla’s fingers trembled in her lap."I can’t breathe," she whispered, smoothing the silver satin of her dress for the fifth time.Ares didn’t glance at her. "You’ll be fine. Just don’t talk too much."Her head snapped toward him. "Wow. So reassuring."Finally, his gaze met hers. Cold. Controlled. "You’re not here to bond. You’re here to be seen. That’s the role. Play it."Her stomach twisted. "Am I allowed to smile at least?""Only when I do."The car door opened. A flood of camera flashes lit up the night. Ares stepped out first, composed, untouchable. Then he turned and offered his hand.She hesitated.Then took it.The second her heels hit the carpet, the noise swallowed her. Flashbulbs. Voices. Questions. Stares."Isla Quinn?" someone shouted. "Did you meet Ares in Monaco?"Ares didn’t flinch

Morning light made its way through the blinds, harsh and cold against the polished marble of the suite. Isla stirred under the heavy weight of the day before, muscles stiff from the gala, from Paris, from the night that felt like a dream she wished she could forget. She moved carefully, so as not to disturb the quiet that had fallen between them.Ares sat at the small table by the window, tablet in hand, completely absorbed. His legs were crossed, posture perfect, his expression unreadable. He didn’t glance up as she dressed, didn’t speak a word. Not even a hint of acknowledgment that last night had existed.Isla caught her reflection in the mirrored closet door. Her dress from the gala still clung to her, slightly wrinkled, her hair tangled at the ends. She tugged at a strand, twisted it around her finger, and sighed. He doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t explain. That’s how he wins.“You’ll be ready for your first briefing in twenty,” he said finally, without looking up.“Understood,” s

Morning just showed no fanfare, no warning. Isla woke before the city even bothered to stir. The sky outside her penthouse windows looked bruised and sullen, still stuck in that pre-dawn gray. She didn’t move at first. Just lay there, listening. Not for people nobody coming or going yet but for the quiet hum of systems she’d never paid attention to until now.At six, the air conditioning clicked on. Like clockwork. At six-thirty, the hallway lights shifted a little brighter. The city, somewhere out there, was stretching and groaning awake, but inside this place? Everything ran on rails.She sat up slowly. This wasn’t a place for gut feelings. Here, you followed rules, or you didn’t last long.Shower, dress, move she did it all like a guest too polite to leave so much as a fingerprint. No wandering. No touching. She built a mental map instead: cameras here, blind spots there. Which staff ducked their eyes, which ones watched her too closely.By the time she poured her coffee, she unde