MasukElena Vance made a fifty-dollar mistake that cost her her freedom. Believing her one-night stand was a high-end escort, she left cash and a mocking note on his pillow, only to walk into a boardroom hours later and realize the man was Adrian Blackwood, the ruthless "Ice King" CEO. Adrian didn't just hold her career in his hands; he held a cocktail napkin marriage license signed in a tequila haze and her father’s $200,000 gambling debt. "You belong to me for six months," he declared, trapping her in a fake marriage to secure a corporate merger. Elena entered the "gilded cage" of Adrian's penthouse expecting a cold, transactional war of wills governed by strict "no-touch" clauses. She remained loyal only to save her father, unaware that he would eventually betray her to their enemies. But the boardroom battles quickly turned lethal. Victor Kane, Adrian’s bitter rival from MIT, obsessed with erasing the Blackwood legacy, sold the company's debt to the Russian Bratva. Suddenly, the fake spouses were forced into a terrifying reality: becoming FBI informants. The "Ice King" melted into a desperate protector, and the graphic designer sharpened into a survivor. Their bond shifted from a business deal to a sacrificial love, forged in the fires of betrayal. But when a mission to plant a bug at a mob wedding ends in a massacre, they realize the FBI is compromised. Stripped of his billions and presumed dead, Adrian stands in the ashes of his empire alongside Elena. A secret brother watches from the shadows, and the Russian mob is closing in. "We have nothing left," Elena whispered, staring into the dark. Adrian gripped her hand, his eyes burning with a new, dangerous resolve. "We have each other. And now, we run."
Lihat lebih banyakADRIAN’S POVI failed her.I kept thinking it over and over again, the words looping in my mind like an accusation. Persistent. Cruel.I sat at my desk, the glow of the monitors illuminating the dark office as I watched the Serenity Pines security feed. I watched Torres swipe his keycard. I watched him open that door. I watched Elena’s father shuffle out into the night.I’d promised her he would be safe. I’d promised her she could trust me. And I’d failed.I clutched my scotch glass in my hand, squeezing until my palm stung against the crystal. Victor had outplayed me. Beat my security flawlessly. Found a weakness I didn’t know I had.I would never make that mistake again.I picked up my phone and dialed."Blackwood," Marcus answered. He was my head of security, former Secret Service, and one of the best I’d ever had."I need a full detail on Elena. Discreet. She doesn’t know they’re there.""How many?""Two minimum. More if she leaves Manhattan. And I want armed guards at Mercy Hospi
ELENA’S POVI woke up on the couch, squinting against the aggressive morning sun pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The light was too bright, too cheerful for the heaviness in my chest. My neck was stiff from the awkward angle, but there was a blanket draped over me—a cashmere throw, soft and impossibly expensive. I hadn't pulled it over myself last night.Adrian.I sat up slowly, the silence of the penthouse pressing against my ears. There was a note on the coffee table, written in his sharp, purposeful handwriting: Had to chase down a lead. Won't be home tonight. I'll explain when I return. - A.I stared down at the paper, a flicker of irritation sparking in my chest. Stay home. It was an order disguised as information, as if I were a child who needed protecting rather than a partner in this mess. But I was too tired to hold onto the anger. I folded the note with a sigh, then showered and changed, washing away the residue of the hospital waiting room.By 10:30 AM, I wa
ELENA’S POVI opened the passenger door and slid into Adrian’s car. The leather was cold on my legs, and the interior smelled like him—cedar and expensive cologne and something darker. He didn’t say anything. He just put the car in drive.We pulled out of the hospital parking lot in silence. I stared out the window as the city blurred past—streetlights and empty sidewalks and the occasional taxi. I waited for him to speak. To ask questions. To lecture me about leaving without telling him. To take control like he always did.But he didn’t.His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, jaw tight. But he was silent. Just… there. Steady.Something in my chest loosened. Just a fraction.We drove through the empty streets of Manhattan, back to the penthouse. The elevator ride up was quiet, too. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t crowd me. Just stood on the opposite side, hands in his pockets.The doors opened. I walked into the penthouse, and my legs felt like lead. Every step took ef
ELENA’S POVMercy Hospital smelled like bleach and death. I burst through the double doors, my heels clicking too loudly against the cracked linoleum floor. It was too bright, too cold—everything was white and sterile and wrong.A nurse glanced up at the entrance from her station.“I’m here for Thomas Vance,” I said. My voice cracked on his name.She checked her computer screen, and her face went carefully neutral. Oh God. That look meant bad news.“He’s in surgery. Critical condition.” She pointed down a hallway. “Waiting room is down there. Third door on the left. Someone will update you when we know more.”Critical condition. My head was echoing with the words. I nodded numbly and walked down the hallway on legs that felt like they weren’t mine.The waiting room was small. Fluorescent lights buzzed above like trapped insects. Vinyl chairs lined the walls, and the TV in the corner was on but muted, flashing silent news.I was the only one there. I slid into a chair, the vinyl sque






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