Chapter 6

The words were a dagger, twisted with precision.

Roman’s jaw tightened until it ached. For the first time in his life, he stood before a woman who refused to bend, refused to break, refused to melt under the fire of his presence. And it left him on the verge of tearing her apart, whether with rage, with desire, or with both tangled beyond recognition.

His hand flexed against the chair, the beast inside him clawing to the surface, demanding control.

He wanted to force her to yield, to remind her no one defied Roman Thorne and walked away unscathed.

Instead, he forced his voice into a deadly calm, each word an ultimatum.

“You won’t even last with me.”

Her eyes gleamed like polished obsidian. “Then watch me.”

The room seemed to shrink around them. 

Roman Thorne, the man who commanded empires, could do nothing but stand there, burning with fury, burning with desire, and hating her all the more because she made him feel powerless.

......

When the doors creaked open and their parents returned, faces full of polite curiosity. Elena hadn’t moved from her seat. Roman hadn’t. They were still locked in that invisible war, her gaze sharp as glass, his jaw tight enough to crack.

“Well?” Mr. Sinclair asked, his voice light, almost hopeful. “What do the two of you think?”

Roman didn’t hesitate. The words slipped from his mouth like a weapon unsheathed.

“It’s fine. Let’s sign tomorrow.”

His father’s brows arched slightly at his son’s decisiveness, but there was no objection. Roman had always been the type to cut through pretense. If he was willing to proceed, then it meant the deal was secure.

Beside him, Elena’s lips parted, her lashes lowering just enough to veil her expression.

Her first instinct had been to refuse, to drag her heels, to remind every person in this room she wasn’t theirs to trade. But then her eyes flicked to Roman, catching the gleam of smug satisfaction in his stare.

He thought he’d won. And that was all the reason she needed to straighten her spine, lace her fingers together atop the table, and say, “Yes. Tomorrow works.”

Her mother’s shoulders relaxed with a soft sigh. The men exchanged pleased glances.

On the surface, everything had fallen neatly into place. But beneath the calm veneer, the storm raged on.

Roman leaned back in his chair, eyes still fixed on Elena. He’d expected her to resist, to cry out, to cause a scene. Instead she sat there, utterly composed, her face unreadable. And that unsettled him more than if she’d thrown the tea in his face.

Because Roman Thorne knew how to deal with anger. He knew how to deal with tears. But indifference, her cool, calculated indifference, dug into him like a thorn beneath the skin.

Mrs. Sinclair reached across the table, patting Elena’s hand. “See, darling? It won’t be so bad. Roman is a good man, and you two will come to understand each other.”

Roman almost laughed. Good man. If only they knew what had just passed between them, the venom in Elena’s words, the hunger he’d felt to crush her defiance.

Elena smiled politely at her mother, but her eyes slid to Roman with a spark of challenge.

Understand each other?

She already understood him perfectly.

He was a man who believed the world bent to his will.

A man who thought she’d fall into line. And she couldn’t wait to show him he was wrong.

“Then it’s settled,” Mr. Thorne declared. “The signing tomorrow, and the wedding soon after. We’ll handle the logistics.”

The elders rose, satisfied with their tidy arrangement, oblivious to the silent daggers being exchanged across the table.

Elena stood when her mother tugged at her arm, and Roman rose as well, his presence a wall of cold steel beside her.

He leaned in just enough for his words to reach her ear, low enough the others couldn’t hear. “Tomorrow you’ll sign, Elena. And when you do, you’ll realize you can’t run from me.”

She turned her head slightly, meeting his eyes without flinching. Her whisper was sharp enough to cut. “Or maybe you’ll realize you can’t break me.”

Roman’s jaw flexed. He wasn’t sure whether he was standing at the start of a partnership or a battlefield. All he knew was that tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

Because the sooner she signed, the sooner he could prove who truly held the power.

And yet, deep down, a darker truth clawed at him, he wanted her to fight.

Wanted her to keep defying him.

Wanted the fire in her eyes to never die. Because as much as he wanted control, part of him already knew, without her resistance, he’d burn out.

Elena walked away at her mother’s side, her perfume lingering in the air like a taunt.

Roman’s fists curled at his sides, his gaze fixed on her retreating figure.

Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow she would bear his name. And then the real war would begin.

The next day, the news broke before Elena even had her morning coffee.

Her phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Calls. Messages. Notifications stacked so high the screen froze twice before she could even unlock it.

Friends she hadn’t spoken to in years.

Enemies who couldn’t resist a chance to gawk. Even strangers on social media, tagging her, dissecting her life, throwing her name into hashtags that trended in minutes.

She skimmed one headline and almost laughed.

ELENA SINCLAIR TO MARRY THE UNTOUCHABLE ROMAN THORNE.

Another followed, crueler.

From Spoiled Brat to Billionaire’s Bride, Sinclair Heiress Lands the Catch of the Century.

Elena tossed the phone aside, collapsing onto her bed with a humorless huff.

Landed the catch of the century?

If only they knew. If only they’d seen Roman’s eyes darken yesterday, the way his words sliced her, the way he burned with equal parts desire and fury.

If only they knew this wasn’t a fairytale engagement. It was a cage.

Across the city, Roman sat in his office, phone pressed to his ear as his assistant rattled off updates about the announcement.

Stock prices. Market reactions. Rival companies suddenly more cautious, more polite.

The Thornes had secured another untouchable alliance, and Roman had delivered.

He should have been satisfied.

Victorious.

But all he could think about was her.