chapter 2

“Please..” she whispered, leaning in so close that her scent of vanilla and despair flooded my senses, clouding my judgment for a second.

I took her by the nape of her neck, my fingers getting lost in the silk of her dark hair as I pulled back slightly to force her to expose her throat, the place where her mate’s mark should be.

She was fragile, but there was a resistance in her spine that fascinated me. She wasn’t like the women who usually frequented my bed; she had a purity that begged to be corrupted, a light that only a man living in total darkness knows how to appreciate and destroy.

“Careful what you wish for, little one,” I murmured, my voice vibrating against her skin like a warning I knew she wouldn’t listen to.

I led her out of the bar, guiding her with a possessive hand on her waist, marking her skin through the fabric.

My car waited, a black spectre among the shadows, a metal predator ready to flee. As I drove toward the tower, I glanced at her sideways. She was beautiful in a way that hurt to look at, a beauty that screamed trouble.

I didn't believe in fated mates, that biological nonsense that chained the weak to a higher will. I believed in conquest, power, and ownership. And she was about to be conquered by the man her father feared most.

We arrived at my private suite. The luxury here was cold, minimalist, designed to remind anyone who entered who was in charge.

I took off my jacket and unbuttoned my shirt cuffs, revealing the scars of a life she couldn't even imagine in her worst nightmares. Claw marks, bullet wounds, and betrayals that had turned me into the steel Alpha I was today.

My past wasn't a success story; it was a chronicle of survival in the lowest streets until reaching the top of the Blackwood empire. I had killed to get here, and I wouldn't hesitate to do it again to keep what is mine.

She looked at me with a mix of fear and fascination. She didn't know who I was. She didn't know I was the man about to destroy her family’s legacy.

She only saw a man with eyes of ice offering her a night of amnesia. And that was exactly what I was going to give her, before she realized her freedom had just ended the moment she stepped into my elevator.

***

POV: Ivy Sterling

The world had shrunk down to him. My past, the pain of betrayal, it had all dissolved into the thick air of this room.

I didn't know his name, or what he did for a living, or why every fiber of my being screamed for me to run while my body forced me to take another step toward his fire.

It was a suicidal impulse, a call from my inner wolf that seemed to recognize an authority much older and more powerful than any pack law.

His hands were large, calloused in the right places, and they held me with a firmness Mark had never dared to use. Mark had always treated me as if I were made of glass; this man held me as if I were his proprety.

Entering his room was like entering another dimension. The black silk bed looked like an altar where I was willing to sacrifice my innocence. When his lips finally claimed mine, the taste of whiskey and power made me dizzier than all the previous drinks. It was a kiss that didn't ask for permission, a kiss that demanded my total surrender.

“Look at me,” he ordered. His voice was low thunder, a frequency that vibrated directly in my ovaries.

I obeyed him. In that moment, the image of Mark and Sienna fading into their betrayal disappeared. Only this man existed, this room, and the scorching heat rising up my legs, wetting my underwear with a shameful urgency.

When he undressed me, he did it with a terrifying parsimony, as if he were unpacking a gift he knew belonged to him by right of conquest.

The first contact was electric. His hands explored my skin with an authority that left me breathless, marking my territory even before possessing me.

“It’s my first time,” I whispered, barely a breath as his body pressed against mine, feeling the hardness of his desire against my thigh.

He paused for a second. His eyes flashed with something I couldn't identify: triumph? obsession? It was the look of a collector who had just found an invaluable piece. He didn't give me time to think about it.

“Then make sure you never forget who was the first,” he growled, and his voice sounded like an indelibel mark on my soul.

The initial pain was a flash of lightning that made me arch my back, a silent scream that died in my throat, but he didn’t stop.

His hands gripped my hips with a force that anchored me to the bed, preventing any escape, and soon, the pain transformed into something else.

Each of his movements was a command to which my body responded with a submission that scared and excited me in equal measure.

I felt alive. For the first time in my life, I wasn't the perfect student or the obedient daughter. I was a woman burning in the arms of a predator. My nails dug into his shoulders, marking his skin as I claimed my own space in his darkness.

***

I woke up when the first light of dawn hit the glass windows, stabbing into my eyes like silver needles.

The silence in the suite was absolute, almost sepulchral. I sat up slowly, letting out a muffled groan as I felt the slight discomfort in my body; that tug in my muscles that reminded me, with cruel precision, of the intensity of the night before.

The black silk sheets were messy, a battlefield of my own surrender, but the side of the bed next to mine was cold. Empty.

“Hello?” I called out, but my voice sounded small in the vastness of that frigid luxury.

I got up, feeling strangely light, as if I had left my soul at the bar along with my pride. The weight of Mark’s betrayal was no longer the first thing I felt upon waking. Now, it was the burn of that man’s hands on my skin.

I dressed quickly, finding my clothes folded with a precision that unsettled me. As if a ghoost had been watching me while I slept.

Where was he? Had he left without saying anything? A sting of humiliation pierced my chest, but it vanished when I saw the black envelope on the nightstand.

I picked it up with trembling fingers. It had no sender. Just my name written in silver calligraphy, elegant and sharp as a scalpel.

I opened it. My heart stopped, and I’d swear the world stopped spinning for a second.

“It was a pleasure, Ivy Sterling. I hope you’ve rested. You wouldn't want to be drowsy for your first class of the morning. Don’t be late.”

The paper slipped from my hands, floating like a death sentence to the floor.

Panic hit my stomach like a physical punch. Ivy Sterling?

I stared at the note, air escaping my lungs. In the whole night, amid the drunkenness, the moans, and the rawest passion, I had never told him my name.

How did he know who I was? How did he know my last name?

I ran out of the penthouse, the note clutched in my fist and a terrifying truth settling in my chest: the stranger with the ice eyes hadn't chosen me at random! He knew who I was!

Luckily, I knew I wouldn't see him again, so I just took a taxi straight to the university.

I walked through the marble hallways of the Law School with my heart pounding against my ribs like a caged animal. My hand compulsively went to my neck, making sure my dark hair covered the purplish mark that man had left on me.

“We’re late, we’re late!” a shrill voice snapped me out of my stupor.

A girl with light brown hair stopped beside me, panting. “Hi, I’m Leyla,” she said, offering me a quick smile as we ran toward the lecture hall. “First day and I already feel like I’m going to fail for unpunctuallity. Are you a first-year too?”

“Ivy,” I replied, trying to catch my breath and my sanity. “Yes, first year.”

We entered the hall just as the murmur of hundreds of students filled the air. Leyla dragged me toward two empty seats in the third row. As I sat down, I felt a pang of pain in my back, an echo of the force with which that man had held me against the mattress.

I tried to concentrate, to be the diligent Ivy, the good girl who follows the rules, but my mind kept returning to the silver note. How did he know?

“Hey, are you okay? You’re shaking,” Leyla whispered. “They say the university’s new benefactor is giving the keynote lecture today. A billionaire CEO who bought half the facullty.”

“I just want the class to start,” I lied, gripping my pen so hard I feared I’d break it.

Suddenly, the double doors swung open. The Dean entered, looking smaller and more subservient than usual, like a lapdog. Behind him, an imposing shadow filled the door frame.

The world stopped. My blood turned to ice and my lungs refused to work.

“Good morning, students,” the Dean announced. “It is an honor to present your new tenured professor of Corporate Law, the CEO of Blackwood Industries, Mr. Killiam Blackwood.”