ETHAN GRAY

Soft gasps. Shallow pants. Heavy, ragged breaths.

It took a moment for Cassandra’s vision to stop spinning when she finally came to. Her eyelids felt like lead, but as they fluttered open, the sheer scale of her unfamiliar surroundings forced her wide awake.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips. She was in a living room that looked less like a home and more like a fever dream carved from a fairytale book.

She was sprawled on a plush, ivory sofa in a space so vast it made her head swim. To her left, floor-to-ceiling glass walls replaced standard masonry, providing a breathtaking, panoramic view of the California night sky. Outside, the moon cast silver and golden hues over a rolling stretch of perfectly manicured greenery and exotic flowers—a botanical garden that put her windowsill succulents to shame.

Inside, the architecture was all sharp lines and expensive textures: marble floors that shone like mirrors, a minimalist fireplace taller than she was, and a spiraling glass staircase that seemed to float in mid-air.

Cassandra sat up abruptly, realizing her wrists were free. A heavy, charcoal-grey duvet had been draped over her, smelling faintly of sandalwood and rain.

‘I was abducted,’ she thought, the memory of Nicole’s scream hitting her like a physical blow. But this didn't feel right… There were no blindfold on her eyes. Nothing cuffing her wrists. She had just been left to comfortably sprawl onto a sofa?

“Hello?” she rose slowly, her voice echoing off the high ceilings, her bare feet sinking into a silk-threaded rug. 

Cassandra's heart hammered against her ribs as she padded toward the main doors.

The heavy oak doors creaked open before she could reach them. Three men in identical, razor-sharp suits stepped inside. The same men from the street.

“Don't come any closer!” Cassandra lunged for a nearby ceramic vase—a Ming-style piece that probably cost more than her college tuition. 

“Who are you people? Why am I here? What do you want?”

She swung the vase desperately, but the men didn't flinch. They moved with a terrifying, synchronized calm. One man gently but firmly caught her wrist, disarming her with a practiced flick, and placed the vase back on its pedestal without a scratch.

Cassandra stumbled back, falling onto the plush cushion of the sofa.

“That’s enough.”

A voice rang out from the top of the glass staircase. It was icy—a deep, resonant baritone that sent an involuntary shiver down Cassandra’s spine. She looked up, her breath catching in her throat.

A man was descending the stairs, his movements as fluid and predatory as a panther. He wore a tailored black shirt with the top two buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of tanned collarbone.

As he stepped into the light, Cassandra felt the air leave the room. He was devastatingly handsome—the kind of man who looked like he’d been sculpted by a Renaissance master with a grudge. He had a sharp, aristocratic jawline, eyes the color of a stormy sea, and dark blonde hair swept back with careless perfection. But it was his aura that truly stifled her—an aloof, bone-chilling coldness that screamed power.

He gestured dismissively, and the guards vanished as quickly as they’d appeared. He sank into an armchair across from her, crossing one long leg over the other.

Recognition hit her like a lightning bolt. “It’s you!”

The man’s lips curled into a dark, mocking chuckle. “Oh, don't act so surprised, Cassandra. Like this wasn't what you wanted all along.”

“What… what are you talking about?” 

“You know, I nearly fell for your little act,” the man rose slowly, taking light steps towards her. “The blood stains on the sheets, I don't know how you did that… You know, I almost thought for a minute that some sweet girl accidentally gave her first time to me and all that. But then, I should have known it was all a calculated play.”

“Excuse me,” Cassandra shot up from her seat, a deep scowl forming on her face. 

The man smirked. “Oh please, drop the act already. You know exactly what I am talking about.” He paused, taking more steps towards her until he was just inches away, looking down on her.

“You somehow put yourself in my bed but no,” he shook his head slowly. “You didn't stop there, did you?”

He reached into his pocket and flicked a plastic strip onto the glass coffee table between them. It was her PT strip. The double bold lines glared up at her.

“Why do you have that? Were you… were you stalking me?” 

He let out a short, dry laugh. “Stalking you? Darling, you weave your way into the bed of a man like me, and you think I won’t have you vetted? I had a team follow you closely the moment you left that hotel.”

“Vetted?” Cassandra shook her head, her confusion turning into a cold realization. “Wait… you think I deliberately got pregnant? You think I planned this?”

The man nodded, his expression turning stony. “I don't think it. I’m certain of it.”

Cassandra let out a chuckle of disbelief. “What… Why the hell would you even think that?”

The man's gaze on her turned incredulous. “Are you being serious right now… Why wouldn't I think that? I am not just some random guy… I am Ethan Gray. And you are not the first woman to try to play tricks on me. You wouldn't be the last either.”

Ethan Gray? Cassandra's mind did a three sixty degree spin. The Ethan Gray? Her mouth fell wide open.

Ethan Gray was literally a living legend. Third son of the Gray Dynasty. Richest man in all of California. Infamous for being a ruthless and cold business tycoon. Top one most handsome eligible bachelor in the country… Yeah, Nicole would often go on and on about this Ethan Gray.

“You are Ethan Gray?”

Ethan's face turned even more incredulous. He even let out a chuckle of sheer disbelief. 

“Wait, are you really going to stand there and pretend you didn't know I was Ethan Gray or something like that?”

Cassandra nodded seriously. “I really had no idea.”

“Bullshit!” Ethan scoffed and took a predatory step closer. 

Cassandra gripped the hem of her jacket and retreated, but the back of her legs hit the sofa. She started to tumble backward, but his large, warm hand shot out, gripping her waist and pulling her flush against his hard chest.

For a second, the world narrowed down to the heat of his skin and the scent of his cologne.

“You can drop the act now, Cassandra Greene…” he whispered against her ear.

She drew a sharp, shaky breath, her heart racing for an entirely different reason now, before she shoved him away and scrambled to the side.

“Look, you’re in luck,” he said, smoothing his shirt as if nothing had just happened. “This little trap of yours? I’ve decided I can work with it. I just so happen to be in need of an heir.”

Cassandra blinked, her jaw dropping. “An… heir?”

“My father has decided on a little competition,” Ethan explained, a shark-like smile spreading across his face. “Whichever of his four sons provides the first heir will inherit the entire Gray Group. And you, it seems, are already carrying my winning ticket.”

He stepped forward, his presence filling the entire room. “I’m going to make you a deal of a lifetime, Cassandra. One that pays far better than your three, four, five, part-time jobs.”

He paused, his stormy eyes locking onto hers with terrifying intensity.

“Marry me, Cassandra and have my heir.”