The door to Suite 402 stood cracked open just an inch.

I pushed it with one trembling finger, the silver keycard heavy in my palm. I had come to bring Nolan his cuff links for tomorrow’s rehearsal dinner.

Inside, shadows tangled against the floor-to-ceiling glass.

A woman in a slip dress leaned back against the mahogany desk, her fingers buried in Nolan’s dark hair. Nolan didn't hesitate. His mouth was crushed against hers, hungry and completely careless.

The breath trapped in my throat turned to glass.

"Nolan?"

My voice was barely a scrape of sound, but it cut through the room.

The woman gasped, pulling back, but Nolan didn't jump. He turned his head casually, his arm still wrapped tight around her waist. His hand didn't drop. He didn't even flinch.

"You should have texted before coming up, Clara," he said, wiping lipstick from his lower lip with the back of his thumb.

"Tomorrow is our wedding," I whispered, the words shaking as they left my lips. "We stand at an altar in less than twenty-four hours."

"And nothing has changed," Nolan replied smoothly. He released the girl's hip only to smooth the front of his unbuttoned shirt. "Eva was just leaving. Go on, Eva."

The girl snatched her clutch from the desk and slipped past me, keeping her eyes glued to the plush carpet.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving only the hum of the air conditioner between us.

"Are you insane?" The rage finally broke through my shock, hot and suffocating. "You're fucking another woman the night before you marry me!"

"Keep your voice down," Nolan snapped, stepping toward me with an irritated sigh. "Don't be naive. We both know what this marriage is. It’s an alliance between our families' logistics firms. It’s business."

"You swore to me—"

"I swore to be your husband," he cut in, his eyes hard and dismissive. "I will give you the ring. You will carry my name. You'll have an unlimited black card and a penthouse overlooking the harbor. But my private life is mine. We're still getting married. That hasn't changed."

"It's off," I choked out, tearing the engagement ring off my finger and hurling it at his chest. "I’m calling it off."

The diamond struck his lapel and bounced onto the carpet.

Nolan didn't even glance down at it. He just laughed—a dry, cruel bark.

"Go ahead and try, Clara. See what your father says."

Ten minutes later, I slammed open the double doors of my father’s private study at the estate.

My father, Arthur, sat behind his heavy oak desk, reviewing financial ledgers under the dim green glow of a banker’s lamp. He looked up, his brow furrowing at my disheveled hair and flushed face.

"What is the meaning of this racket?" he demanded.

"Call the caterers," I said, gripping the edge of his desk until my knuckles went white. "Call the venue. Call off the entire damn circus. I am not marrying Nolan."

Arthur set his fountain pen down with a sharp tap. "What did you say?"

"He’s cheating on me. I caught him ten minutes ago in a hotel suite with another woman. He told me to my face that he won't stop after the wedding." Tears threatened my eyes, but I forced them back. "I won't be humiliated like this. Call it off."

My father stood up.

The crack echoed across the wood-paneled room before I even registered the movement.

The force of his palm tore across my cheek, whipping my head sideways. Pain exploded behind my teeth, hot and blinding. I stumbled back against a bookshelf, my hand flying to my stinging face.

"Foolish girl," Arthur hissed, stepping around the desk, his face contorted in disgust. "You think this marriage is about your fragile little feelings?"

"He betrayed me!" I yelled through the metallic taste of blood inside my mouth.

"And you will smile and take his hand tomorrow at noon!" Arthur roared, pointing a trembling finger in my face. "Do you have any idea how much debt the shipping division is carrying? Nolan's father holds the refinancing notes. Without their capital injection on Monday morning, we file for bankruptcy! Our family will be on the street!"

"So you're selling me to a bastard who despises me?"

"I am saving this family!" Arthur grabbed my forearm, his grip bruising through my sleeve. "You will put on that white gown. You will walk down that aisle. If you dare run, Clara—if you utter one word to jeopardize this union—I will strip you of everything. Not a dime. Not a roof over your head. I'll make sure you're blacklisted from every firm in this city. You will have nothing."

He shoved me away toward the door.

"Now go to your room and ice that cheek before the makeup artist arrives."

I didn't go to my room.

I ran.

I ran until my lungs burned, tearing through the estate gates and out into the biting mist of the midnight streets. I didn't take my purse, my phone, or my coat. I just needed the air, but every breath felt like inhaling crushed glass.

My feet carried me instinctively toward the river crossing, the old suspension bridge arching high above the churning, black water.

Fog rolled over the iron girders. Down below, the currents smashed against the concrete pillars with a deafening roar.

I leaned against the icy metal railing, my chest heaving. The wind whipped my hair across my face, stinging my bruised cheek.

*Nothing.* My father's voice echoed in my head. *You will have nothing.*

Trapped between a father who viewed me as collateral and a fiancé who treated me like a decorative pet. Was there any way out that didn't destroy me?

I stared down into the swirling abyss, hypnotized by the dark foam. Just one step over the rail. One moment of falling, and the screaming inside my skull would finally stop.

I reached out, wrapping both hands around the top rail, shifting my weight onto my toes.

A sudden, iron grip locked onto the back of my jacket.

Before I could scream, I was jerked backward off the ledge with violent force. The momentum threw me into a broad, hard chest. Strong arms clamped around my waist like a vice, hauling me completely off the sidewalk.

"Let go of me!" I thrashed, kicking wildly. "Let me go!"

"Stop fighting, Clara," a deep, gravelly voice commanded in my ear.

The scent hit me first—cedarwood, black pepper, and expensive leather. It wasn't Nolan.

The man dragged me to the curb, hauling open the heavy passenger door of a sleek black sedan idling by the curb with its hazard lights blinking. He shoved me firmly into the heated leather seat, leaned over to yank the seatbelt across my chest, and clicked it into place before I could bolt.

He slammed the door shut, rounded the hood, and slid behind the steering wheel.

The interior light clicked off. In the dashboard's dim glow, I saw the sharp, carved jawline and piercing gray eyes of Nolan’s older brother.

Adrian.

He threw the car into drive, pulling smoothly away from the bridge. His knuckles were pale against the steering wheel.

"What were you doing out there?" Adrian demanded, his voice dangerously low. "Were you actually about to jump?"

I pressed my back hard against the seat, trembling from the cold and the adrenaline. "Why do you care? Did your family send you to make sure the merchandise didn't break before the wedding?"

Adrian slammed his foot on the brake, pulling the car onto an empty shoulder under the flicker of a broken streetlamp.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned toward me, his gaze sweeping over my face. When his eyes caught the angry red swelling on my cheek, his jaw tightened until a muscle jumped in his temple.

"Who hit you?" he asked, every syllable laced with murder.

"What does it matter?" I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "Ask your little brother. He was too busy burying his face in another woman’s neck at the Grand Hotel to notice."

Adrian didn't blink. "Nolan."

"Yes, Nolan! And when I told my father I wouldn't marry a cheating liar, he slapped me and promised to ruin me if I dared to walk away." My voice cracked, raw and feral. "I'm just a signature on a contract to all of you. An asset to trade."

Adrian stared at me. His gray eyes were dark pools under the amber streetlights, unreadable, intense, tracking the rise and fall of my chest.

"Nolan is a reckless idiot," Adrian said softly, reaching out. His thumb brushed just below the bruise on my cheek, surprisingly warm, surprisingly gentle. "He always takes what he has for granted."

I froze under his touch.

Nolan had ruined my life without a second thought. He expected me to walk down the aisle tomorrow, pure and obedient, playing the quiet little wife while he fucked whoever he wanted.

*Why should I?*

The thought hit me like a shot of pure adrenaline. Why should I keep myself sacred for a man who threw me away before the vows were even spoken?

I locked my eyes onto Adrian’s mouth.

"Clara," he warned, his voice dipping low, noticing the shift in my breathing. "What are you doing?"

I didn't answer.

I reached up, grabbed the lapels of his heavy wool coat, and pulled him fiercely down toward me, crashing my mouth directly onto his.

Adrian shoved his hands against my shoulders, tearing his mouth away from mine.

"Stop." His chest rose and fell against mine, his voice rough as gravel. "You’re marrying my brother in twelve hours."

"I know," I breathed.

Before he could pull back further, I surged forward, looping my fingers through his hair and dragging his mouth down hard against mine again.

He stiffened for a second. Then his restraint snapped.

His hand clamped around the back of my neck, fingers gripping tightly, hauling me across the console until I was half in his lap. He bit my lower lip until I tasted iron, kissing me with a harsh, bruising hunger that made my head spin.

"Fuck it," Adrian growled against my lips.

He didn't drive me back to my father’s estate.

Twenty minutes later, the private elevator opened directly into his high-rise penthouse. The city glittered below through floor-to-ceiling glass, cold and indifferent.

Adrian didn't turn on a single light.

He kicked the front door shut, grabbed both my wrists, and pinned them flat against the wall above my head. His dark coat hit the floor.

"Look at me, Clara," he ordered, his breath warm against my cheek.

I tilted my chin up, meeting his stormy gray eyes in the shadows. "Do you think I'm going to look away?"

"You still have time to turn around," he warned, his voice low, his fingers digging into my skin. "Walk out that door, go home, and be Nolan’s proper little bride."

"I don't want to be anyone's proper anything," I countered. "Take my clothes off, Adrian."

A harsh laugh scraped his throat. "Don't tempt me with things you can't handle."

"Try me."

Adrian didn't wait. He ripped my blouse down the center, buttons skittering across the hardwood like hail. He jerked my skirt down, tearing the delicate silk of my underwear aside until I stood bare against the freezing plaster.

His hands were rough and calloused as he lifted my thighs, locking my legs around his waist.

"Adrian," I gasped.

He unzipped his slacks with one hand, kicking them free, and shoved inside me in one violent thrust.

I cried out, digging my fingernails into his muscular back. He filled me completely, stretching me open with an intensity that burned white-hot.

"You feel that?" Adrian hissed, his forehead pressed against mine, his thrusts deep and unrelenting against the wall. "Say my fucking name, Clara."

"Adrian..."

"Again." He pounded into me, faster, harder, lifting me completely off the floor.

"Adrian! Fuck..."

His mouth crushed mine, swallowing my moans while his cock drove deep into my cunt. Every slam of his hips vibrated through my spine, rattling the picture frames on the wall. I tightened around him, drowning in the raw friction, desperate to burn away the memory of Nolan’s smirk and my father’s hand.

He carried me toward the bedroom without pulling out, tossing me onto the king-sized mattress and following me down. He pinned my knees to my chest, pounding into my wet cunt until the bed frame groaned against the wall.

"Look at me," he grunted, sweat dripping from his jaw onto my collarbone. "Who’s fucking you right now?"

"You," I sobbed, claws raking his shoulders. "You are."

"Don't you ever forget it."

He drove into me until my body shattered, waves of spasms clamping down around his cock. With a harsh groan, Adrian thrust one last time, buried to the hilt, spilling his hot come deep inside me.

He collapsed beside me, his heavy arm thrown across my waist.

Neither of us said a word.

***

Pale morning light spilled across the hardwood floor when I opened my eyes.

The alarm on my phone didn't ring—I had left it miles away in the study. But the clock on the nightstand read 7:15 AM.

In less than five hours, hundreds of guests would fill the cathedral for my wedding.

Adrian was already out of bed, wearing only a pair of dark gray sweatpants low on his hips. He leaned against the balcony door frame, holding a steaming mug of black coffee, watching me quietly.

"You’re awake," he said.

I sat up, pulling the thick duvet to my chin. My muscles ached, and my skin felt raw and marked by red bruises.

"I am," I said, clearing my dry throat.

Adrian took a sip of his coffee. His gaze was sharp, dissecting me under the gray morning sun.

"Why me, Clara?"

I blinked, avoiding his stare. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb," he said, stepping away from the glass. His voice was quiet, dangerously steady. "You ran out into the night to ruin yourself. You could have picked anyone. You could have walked into a dive bar and found ten guys willing to take you home. Why did you kiss me?"

I looked toward the scattered remains of my torn clothes on the rug, forcing a careless half-smile onto my face.

"Does it need to be deep, Adrian?" I asked lightly.

He set his mug down on the dresser with a sharp *clack*. "Answer the question."

I shrugged, letting the duvet slide slightly. "Nolan spent last night with his tongue down another woman's throat. He told me to my face that he’d keep fucking her after we’re married. He thinks he can treat me like garbage and I'll just sit pretty."

Adrian took another step closer. "And?"

"And I don't like losing," I said, looking right into his gray eyes. "He fucked his girl. I fucked his older brother. Now we're even. It's just a fair trade."

The room went dead silent.

Adrian didn't shout. He didn't sneer. But the temperature in the bedroom dropped instantly. The warmth that had lingered in his eyes vanished, replaced by an icy, piercing fury.

He walked over to the edge of the bed and leaned down, placing both palms flat on the mattress on either side of my hips, trapping me between his arms.

"A fair trade?" he whispered, his voice trembling with suppressed rage.

I held my chin high, refusing to flinch. "Yes."

"So when I had you pinned against the wall..." Adrian leaned in until his lips were inches from my ear, every word cutting like a blade. "...when you were screaming and begging me to go deeper, you weren't feeling me at all."

My heart hammered against my ribs, a sudden lump lodging in my throat.

"You were thinking about him," he snarled.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. The cruelty in my own lie choked me.

Adrian pulled back, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle twitched. He looked down at me not with passion, but with utter disgust.

"Get dressed," he said coldly, turning his back on me. "I’ll have my driver take you back to your father. Go marry your husband."

He walked out of the bedroom, leaving the door wide open.

I sat frozen for a moment, the silence heavy and suffocating. A bitter taste coated my tongue. I hadn't thought about Nolan once while Adrian was inside me. Not once. But admitting that terrified me more than the wedding ever could.

I climbed out of bed on shaking legs, scanning the floor. My blouse was ruined, shredded beyond repair.

I walked into his walk-in closet, grabbed an oversized navy silk button-up of his, and pulled it over my head. It swallowed my frame, smelling heavily of cedar and his aftershave. I buttoned it down to mid-thigh, keeping my bruised throat hidden beneath the wide collar.

I stepped out into the living room, heading for the front foyer. Adrian stood by the island, pouring another cup of coffee, not even bothering to look up.

"Adrian, I—"

*Bang. Bang. Bang.*

A loud, impatient pounding rattled the heavy front door.

Both of us froze.

Through the solid wood, a familiar, arrogant voice echoed into the penthouse foyer.

"Adrian! Open up, man! It’s Nolan. I know you're awake—I've got a fucking crisis."

The lock on the front door buzzed, followed by the heavy metallic click of the deadbolt sliding back.

"Shit," I whispered, my heart slamming into my throat. "He has the code?"

"He's my brother," Adrian said, his voice flat and unbothered. "He thinks everything I own belongs to him."

"Adrian, he can't see me here." I grabbed the front of the oversized silk shirt, my knuckles white against the fabric. "If he finds me in your penthouse wearing your clothes, he'll know."

"Let him know."

"No!" I hissed, panic surging through my veins. "My father will burn my life to the ground. You heard him. He'll destroy me."

Heavy footsteps echoed across the marble foyer, accompanied by the rustle of a garment bag and Nolan’s sharp, irritated whistle.

"Adrian?" Nolan shouted from the living room. "Where the hell are you? The wedding coordinator is blowing up my phone, and the media already has reporters camped outside the church!"

I darted toward the master closet, a wide walk-in lined with dark smoked glass and walnut cabinetry. I yanked the door open and stepped inside, tucking myself between rows of tailored suits.

"Get in here and shut it," I urged in a frantic whisper, waving him away.

Adrian didn't shut it.

He stood in the frame, his bare chest broad and unmoving, a dark, mocking gleam lighting his gray eyes. He didn't even pull the handle toward the latch. The door stayed open a good six inches.

"Adrian!" I choked out, pressing my back against the wall of cashmere coats. "Close it!"

"Why should I hide you in my own home?" he countered, loud enough to make my blood run cold.

"Keep your voice down!"

Footsteps crossed from the living room directly into the master bedroom. The floorboards creaked right outside the threshold.

"Adrian?" Nolan’s voice sounded right in the bedroom. "Why are the curtains drawn? Don't tell me you're still sleeping."

Adrian didn't budge from the doorway.

A sharp chuckle drifted from the bed area. "Wait. Is that a woman's slip on the rug?" Nolan whistled low, an amused drawl coating his words. "No way. The great, untouchable Adrian actually brought someone home last night? Who is she? Are you hiding a girl in there?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, holding my lungs completely still. Every nerve in my body screamed to vanish into the wall.

Suddenly, Adrian reached out.

His hand clamped around my wrist, his grip hard and unyielding.

"What are you doing?" I gasped under my breath.

He didn't answer. He jerked his arm back, hauling me right out from between the suits. My bare feet skidded across the hardwood as he pulled me flush against his chest, slamming my back flat against the interior side of the closet door.

"Adrian, stop—"

His mouth crashed down on mine before the sentence left my lips.

The kiss was hard, bruising, and completely ruthless. He caught my lower lip between his teeth, biting down just enough to make me gasp, using the opening to slide his tongue deep into my mouth.

I panicked. I slammed both hands against his biceps, my nails digging through his skin, desperately trying to push him away. He didn't move an inch. He trapped my waist with his free arm, lifting me until only the tips of my toes grazed the floor.

He kissed me like he was claiming territory, his hips pressing heavy and warm against mine, reminding me of every single thing we had done hours before.

Outside the thin door, Nolan stopped pacing.

"Adrian?" Nolan called out, his tone shifting from amusement to irritation. "What the hell are you doing in there? I'm talking to you."

Adrian broke the seal of our lips by a fraction of an inch, his mouth hovering against mine, his breath hot and ragged against my skin.

"Morning kiss," Adrian called out over his shoulder, his voice completely level.

My eyes widened in pure terror. I stared at him, my chest heaving against his bare torso. He looked down at me with half-lidded, reckless amusement, waiting for my reaction.

"Seriously?" Nolan scoffed through the wood. "Right now? Clara hasn't shown up at the bridal suite yet. Her phone is off, and Arthur is losing his mind. I need your driver to swing by her favorite spots."

Hearing Nolan say my name while his brother held me pinned against a door made my stomach twist violently.

I thrashed against Adrian’s chest, trying to yank my wrist free from his iron grip. In my frantic bid to tear away, my elbow swung back, striking a metal coat rack.

*Clang.*

A heavy brass hanger knocked against three others, the metallic chime ringing out sharp and loud in the quiet closet.

The room outside went dead silent.

The sound seemed to hang in the air between the walls. My lungs locked up. I froze, my hand suspended in midair, my fingers trembling against the dark silk of Adrian’s shirt.

Adrian didn't move either. He kept his arm hooked around my waist, his gray eyes fixed entirely on my face, watching the color drain from my cheeks.

One second passed.

Then two.

"Wait," Nolan said. His voice was no longer casual. The arrogance was gone, replaced by a strange, sudden tension.

The floorboards creaked right outside the closet door. Nolan had taken two steps closer.

"Liora?" Nolan asked tentatively.

The name dropped like lead into the space between us.

*Liora?*

The question bounced inside my skull, sharp and confusing. Who was Liora?

Eva had been the woman in his suite last night. Eva had been the one with her hands tangled in his hair while he told me our marriage was just business.

Who the hell was Liora?

Adrian's eyebrows rose slightly. A mocking, knowing smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. He leaned his head down, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.

"Well?" Adrian whispered, so low only the two of us could hear. "Is that you, Liora?"

I shook my head violently, tears of pure humiliation stinging the backs of my eyes. How many women were there? How many lies had I swallowed over the last two years?

Adrian tilted his head toward the door, his eyes challenging mine. He didn't speak. He just waited, offering me the floor, daring me to open my mouth and tear the whole facade apart right here, right now.

*Answer him,* his gaze demanded. *Tell him you're here.*

I bit down on the inside of my cheek until the sharp iron taste filled my mouth again. I couldn't do it. The memory of my father's heavy palm, the promise of utter ruin, the debts hanging over our heads—the chains locked tight around my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, burying my face into the crook of Adrian's neck, choosing silence.

Outside, the silence stretched thin and brittle.

"Liora, if you're in there with him, I swear to God..." Nolan muttered, his tone turning sharp and possessive.

The brass doorknob gave a quiet rattle.

Then, slowly, the metal mechanism turned.