His Forbidden Canary: Escaping The Contract

"Annabel, lift your head." Julian Sharpe sat on the velvet sofa across from her, legs crossed, his gaze moving over her like he was checking for flaws.

Annabel's body went rigid. Her bare feet were cold against the marble floor, a stark contrast to the ridiculous Dior evening gown she was forced to wear. It didn't fit. She tightened her grip on the skirt's fabric.

Slowly, she raised her head. Her face was pale, but exquisitely beautiful, her blue eyes filled with a suppressed terror and humiliation.

A smile touched Julian's lips, but it never reached his eyes. "That's better. Remember your place. You're the canary I paid for, so act like one." He swirled the red wine in his glass.

"Look at the former Beaumont princess, standing here just to please me." His words struck her heart, reminding her of her family's bankruptcy, her father's imprisonment, and the contract that trapped her here.

Annabel's fingernails dug deep into her palms, the bite of her own nails the only anchor against the nausea rising in her throat.

"Turn around. Let me see." Julian issued a new command, his tone light and dismissive.

Her body moved stiffly, a humiliating, robotic rotation. The wide skirt swept across the empty living room. Her gaze caught on a modern painting on the wall, its jarring colors making her dizzy. She nearly lost her balance.

Julian let out a low laugh, letting the silence stretch before he spoke again.

Annabel steadied herself, her eyes downcast. Her long lashes cast two dark shadows on her cheeks.

For Dad, she told herself. I have to endure this. It was her only belief, the only reason she could stomach any of this.

"Come here." Julian held out his hand. It wasn't an invitation. It was an order.

Every step felt like walking on knives as she moved slowly toward him.

She could smell his expensive cologne mixed with the rich scent of wine. It made her stomach churn with a physical revulsion.

Just as her fingertips were about to touch his, he snatched his hand away.

Annabel's body pitched forward with the momentum, and she almost fell.

He laughed again, delighted by his little prank.

She caught the edge of the sofa to steady herself. The room spun. Humiliating tears welled in her eyes, but she fought them back, refusing to let them fall.

"A boring game." Julian seemed to lose interest. He stood up, adjusting the cuffs of his suit.

He walked to her, grabbing her chin and forcing her head up. "Remember, Annabel, from the moment you signed that contract, you have no dignity left."

His thumb brushed roughly across her lips, his eyes filled with raw possession.

She trembled with fear but stubbornly refused to close her eyes.

At that moment, in a quiet study at the other end of the villa, Landon Carlisle was in the middle of an overseas video conference. His cold, gray eyes were focused on the screen, his entire being radiating an unapproachable aura.

His personal phone vibrated on the desk, but he ignored it.

When the meeting ended, he wearily loosened his tie and picked up the phone. He saw an encrypted message from his butler, Mr. Watkins.

He opened it. The message was just one sentence:

"Mr. Carlisle, Mr. Sharpe brought a 'guest' to the villa. He's calling her a 'canary.'"

Landon's jaw tightened. His eyes went flat, cold. He knew his lawless cousin was causing trouble again.

He grabbed his jacket from the desk and strode out of the study. He had only one destination — his villa in Beverly Hills, the one Julian was currently staying in.