Chapter 20: The Cold Billionaire

[ DAVID'S POV ]

"You told me I don't exist. Why do you care who speaks to a ghost?"

She really thought those pathetic, dramatic words were going to break me. She thought acting like a lifeless doll in the back of my car would make me feel guilty, soften my heart, or force me to back down.

She was dead wrong. Nobody talked back to me like that. Nobody played cheap mind games with David Kingsley and walked away feeling victorious. I had spent years building an empire by crushing men who thought they were smarter than me, and I certainly wasn't going to let my own wife sit across from me and pretend she had any control in this relationship.

The brief flash of surprise in my chest vanished in a split second, replaced by a solid wall of pure, unyielding ice. My cold, ruthless nature took over completely, pushing away any small trace of doubt. A dark, dangerous quiet settled over my face. My eyes narrowed into tight slits, freezing the remaining heat right out of the car's interior.

I didn't loosen my grip on her wrists for even a fraction of a second. If anything, I squeezed tighter, digging my heavy fingers deep into her soft skin until I felt her small body go completely rigid beneath me. The empty, hollow look in her eyes finally cracked under the pressure, a tiny flicker of real tension and panic breaking through her pale, frozen face.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" I whispered, my voice dropping into a razor-sharp, lethal tone right against her ear. "You think calling yourself a ghost gives you permission to forget who owns you?"

I leaned down even lower, bringing my mouth so close my lips almost touched hers, watching the rapid, frantic pulse jumping in her slender throat. Her breath hit my face in short, terrified gasps, making her chest heave against mine.

"Listen to me very carefully, Samantha," I said, every single word dropping like heavy iron into the cramped space between us. "You do not cross me. And you sure as hell do not play games with Julian Vance. If I catch you looking at him again, or if you even think about plotting behind my back, I will not just destroy you. I will wipe Julian's entire empire off the map, and I will ruin your family until they are begging on the streets. Do you understand me?"

She swallowed hard, her throat clicking, her chest rising and falling in tight, nervous gasps. The fake, quiet defiance she had put on at the gala was completely gone, stripped away by the raw weight of my threat. She was tense, trembling, and fully aware of the sheer danger hovering just inches from her face.

Before she could form a response, the limousine pulled into the long, dark driveway of the mansion and slammed to a hard, abrupt halt on the gravel.

I didn't give her a single second to recover or gather her thoughts.

I let go of her wrists, reached across her lap, and grabbed her roughly by the upper arm, hauling her right out of the car door before the driver could even step around to open it. I completely ignored the bowing security guards standing by the steps, as well as the wide-open front doors, pulling her fast and hard through the quiet, echoing marble halls of the house.

"David, please" she choked out, her small voice shaking violently as her high heels scraped uselessly against the polished floor, struggling to keep up with my long, furious strides. "David, stop! You're hurting me!"

I didn't answer her. I didn't even turn my head to glance at her tear-filled eyes.

I dragged her all the way down the main corridor to the far end of the eastern wing, straight toward the heavy, dark wooden door of the windowless storage study—the dark room where no light ever penetrated and no guests ever walked.

I turned the heavy brass knob, kicked the door open, and shoved her inside with a sudden, forceful push.

She stumbled forward onto the cold, dusty hardwood floor, her expensive designer dress pooling around her legs as she hit the ground hard. The heavy air inside the room was freezing, smelling of old paper and isolation.

"David, don't leave me here!" she panicked, her quiet facade completely broken as she turned around quickly on her knees. Her eyes were wide with real, unadulterated fear as she scrambled desperately across the floor, reaching her hands out toward the open doorway to stop me. "Please! Don't lock me in the dark!"

"You want to act like a ghost, Samantha?" I said coldly, towering over her from the threshold with complete indifference. "Then stay in the dark until you remember your place."

I grabbed the heavy door and pulled it shut, blocking out her desperate, echoing cry before her fingers could touch the wood. I reached into my coat pocket, pulled out the heavy iron key, and turned it in the lock with a sharp, heavy click.

"David! Open the door! Please!"

Her small fists hit the thick paneling, the muffled sounds beating weakly against the heavy wood. I didn't care. I stood there in the dimly lit hallway for a long, silent moment, my face completely expressionless as I casually adjusted the gold cuffs of my suit jacket.

She wasn't going to ruin my reputation, she wasn't going to embarrass me in public, and she certainly wasn't going to compromise my business with Julian Vance. I slipped the iron key deep into my trousers pocket, turned on my heel, and walked away into the heavy shadows of the empty mansion, leaving her locked alone in the pitch black.