Chapter 3: Natalie's Reckless Idea

I did not sleep that night.

The room Damien had shown me to was beautiful. Silk sheets. Marble floors. A window that looked out over the estate gardens. But it felt like a prison cell. Every shadow seemed to move. Every creak of the old house made my heart race.

I sat on the edge of the bed, still wearing my red dress, my phone clutched in my hand. The ring on my finger felt heavier than it should. I kept touching it, turning it, trying to convince myself it was real.

I was married.

To a stranger.

A man who knew my father. A man whose name had made the blood drain from Richard Cross's face.

What have I done?

I unlocked my phone. Three missed calls from Natalie. Twelve text messages. The last one just said: CALL ME OR I WILL CALL THE POLICE.

I called her.

She answered on the first ring. "Sloane. What the hell happened? I saw you walk into that ballroom with a man and then my mother dragged me out because she said there was going to be a scene and then I heard—"

"Natalie. Slow down."

"Slow down? You are married? You married a stranger? Who is he? What is happening?"

I closed my eyes. "I do not know who he is."

Silence. Then, very quietly: "Sloane. What do you mean you do not know who he is?"

"The escort never showed. I panicked. I saw this man at the entrance and I just—I grabbed him. I told him to follow my lead. I did not know his name until he said it in front of everyone."

"Who is he?"

"Rowan Morphy."

The silence on the other end of the line was so long I thought she had hung up.

"Natalie?"

"Rowan Morphy," she repeated. Her voice was strange. Careful. "Sloane. Do you know who that is?"

"A businessman. That is what he told me."

"Sloane." Natalie's voice dropped to a whisper. "Rowan Morphy is not just a businessman. He is the most powerful man in the city. Maybe the country. People say he controls everything. The police. The politicians. The newspapers. They say he is the head of the largest criminal organization in Europe."

My blood ran cold. "What?"

"I am serious. My father used to work for a man who did business with him. He said Rowan Morphy is a ghost. No one knows where he came from. No one knows how he built his empire. But everyone knows you do not cross him."

I stared at the wall. The room spun around me.

"His name," Natalie continued. "He is not just a businessman. He is a king. A king of the underworld."

The door opened.

I dropped the phone.

Rowan stood in the doorway. He had changed out of his suit. He was wearing dark trousers and a white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. His hair was slightly disheveled. His eyes were fixed on me.

"I am sorry to interrupt," he said. His voice was calm. Quiet. "But there is something we need to discuss."

I could hear Natalie's voice coming from the phone on the floor. "Sloane? Sloane, are you there?"

Rowan walked across the room. He picked up the phone. He looked at the screen.

"Natalie," he said. "I am sorry to cut this short. But I need to speak with my wife."

He hung up. He placed the phone on the nightstand.

"We need to talk," he said.

I could not move. I could not speak. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

"What do you want?" I whispered.

He looked at me. His dark eyes were unreadable.

"I want you to understand something," he said. "This marriage is real. In the eyes of the law. In the eyes of the world. And for the next year, you are mine."

I opened my mouth. He held up a hand.

"I am not going to hurt you. I am not going to touch you unless you want me to. But there are people out there who will see you as a weakness. And they will try to use you to get to me."

"What people?"

He ignored the question. "From now on, you do not leave this estate without my permission. You do not speak to anyone I have not approved. You do not ask questions about my work."

"You are making me a prisoner."

"I am keeping you alive."

The words hung in the air between us.

"And what do I get in return?" I asked.

"A year of safety. A new identity. Enough money to disappear forever. Whatever you want."

"And at the end of the year?"

"At the end of the year, you will be free to go."

I stared at him. There was something in his eyes. Something hidden. Something I could not name.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "Why me?"

He was quiet for a long moment. Then he walked toward me. He stopped when he was close enough to touch. He reached up and touched the ring on my finger. His fingers were warm.

"Because you are the first person in a very long time who surprised me," he said. "And I do not like surprises."

He turned and walked toward the door.

"Wait," I said.

He stopped.

"Who did you need to handle? The situation. What was it?"

He looked over his shoulder at me. His smile was back in place. But his eyes were cold.

"A problem," he said. "Nothing you need to worry about."

He walked out. The door closed behind him with a click.

I sat there on the bed, my heart pounding, my mind racing.

I was married to the most dangerous man in the country.

And I had no idea what came next.