Eliana

Miguel had Henrietta pressed back against the edge of his massive desk. His hands gripped her waist tightly, and his face was buried deep in her neck. The straps of her tight red dress had slipped off her shoulders, leaving her skin flushed and exposed under the dim glow of the study lamp.

"Miguel," my voice broke. The word tore from my throat like shattered glass.

Miguel stopped.

"I explicitly told you to wait in the kitchen, Eliana," Miguel said. His voice was completely flat, as if I had merely interrupted a business call.

"You're my husband. How... how could you do this to me?"

"And you are a nuisance," he spat back, casually fixing the cuffs of his shirt.

Henrietta didn't even bother pulling her dress up. She stayed leaning against the desk, a wicked, triumphant smirk playing on her glossy lips as she looked me up and down.

"Oh, Eliana," Henrietta sighed, faking a sympathetic pout. "You really have terrible timing. You always ruin the mood."

"Get out," I whispered, the pain in my abdomen radiating into my chest, suffocating me.

"Get out of my house."

Miguel instantly stepped in front of her, shielding her from me.

"Don't you dare raise your voice at her," Miguel ordered, his tone deadly quiet. "You do not give orders in this house, Eliana. You do not own anything here."

"I am your wife!" I cried out, the tears finally spilling over my cheeks. I couldn't hold them back anymore. "I am your wife, Miguel! I gave you my kidney seven days ago! I was cut open for you! I laid in a hospital bed praying you would survive, and you're in here doing this?"

Miguel let out a dark, cruel laugh.

"Is that what you think this is?" he asked, taking a slow step toward me. "Do you honestly believe I married you for love?"

The air in my lungs vanished. "What are you talking about?"

"Look at you, Eliana," Miguel sneered, his eyes raking over my pale face, my messy hair, and my oversized sweater.

"You are entirely plain. You have no class, no influence. You bring absolutely nothing of value to my empire. You are a spare part, Eliana."

I stumbled back, my shoulder hitting the doorframe. "No..."

"My mother scoured the country for a perfect blood and tissue match when my kidneys started failing," Miguel stated coldly, looking at me as if I were nothing but a bad investment. "You were a broke, desperate girl with the exact biology I needed. That is the only reason the wedding happened."

"You planned this?" I sobbed, my entire world collapsing around me. The fairy tale, the stolen kisses, the late night promises all of it was a lie. "You used me?"

"It was a business transaction," Miguel said ruthlessly. "You got the title of a billionaire's wife. You got the clothes, the roof over your head, the illusion of importance. I got my health back. The transaction is complete."

"You're a monster," I choked out, wrapping my arms around my waist. "I loved you, Miguel."

"Your love is worthless to me," he replied without a single flicker of emotion. "It always has been."

"Miguel," Henrietta whined softly from behind him, tracing a perfectly manicured finger down his spine.

"She's scaring me. She looks crazy."

"It's alright, darling," Miguel said, his voice instantly softening. The gentleness in his tone broke what little was left of my heart. "She's leaving."

I turned and ran down the hallway.

Carmen and Louisiana were still sitting at the long table, sipping red wine and laughing. They stopped when I stumbled in, gasping for air with tears pouring down my face.

"What is the meaning of this?" Carmen snapped, slamming her glass down. "Where is Miguel? Why are you crying like a lunatic?"

"He's with her," I sobbed, pointing a shaking finger back toward the hallway. "Miguel and Henrietta! They were in the study! He was kissing her!"

I waited for the shock. I waited for Louisiana to stand up and defend her daughter's honor.

Instead, Carmen smiled.

"Actually," Carmen said, her voice dripping with poison, "I've been waiting for this goodness."

"What?" I breathed, my legs going weak.

"Oh, dear, did you really think my son loved you?" Carmen laughed, a harsh, grating sound. She exchanged a knowing look with Louisiana, who was also smiling. "Did you honestly think a man of Miguel's stature would settle for a street rat like you? We needed your kidney, Eliana. Nothing more."

"You knew?" I whispered, looking at Louisiana. "You knew your daughter was sleeping with a married man?"

"Henrietta isn't sleeping with a married man," Louisiana corrected, examining her diamond rings. "She's keeping her future husband company until the trash is taken out. Miguel and Henrietta have been promised to each other since they were teenagers."

"You're all sick," I cried, taking a step back. "You're all evil!"

Footsteps echoed from the hallway.

Henrietta walked into the dining room. Her dress was pulled up perfectly now, her hair smoothed down. She looked like an angel. A beautiful, wicked angel. Miguel was right behind her, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, his face an emotionless mask.

"Ah, there she is," Carmen said proudly. "Come sit, Henrietta."

Henrietta didn't go to the table. She walked straight toward me.

"What do you want?" I backed away, my back hitting the wooden edge of the sideboard.

"I just want to talk, Eliana," Henrietta said sweetly, her voice loud enough for the entire room to hear.

She stopped right in front of me, blocking me from Miguel's view. Her back was to the rest of the room.

She leaned in close. I could smell Miguel's expensive cologne on her skin.

"You really are pathetic," Henrietta whispered softly, so only I could hear. "He laughed at your body, you know. He told me you felt like a corpse."

"Shut up," I hissed.

"He's mine, Eliana," she whispered. "He always has been."

Before I could react, Henrietta's hand shot out.

She reached behind me onto the sideboard and grabbed the sharp, silver fruit knife resting next to the cheese platter.

My eyes went wide. "What are you doing?"

Without breaking eye contact, she gripped the blade tightly in her right hand and violently dragged it across her own left forearm.

A deep, brutal red line opened up on her pale skin. Blood immediately welled to the surface and dripped onto the floor.

I was too stunned to move. I just stared at the blood.

Then, Henrietta dropped the knife at my feet.

She threw her head back and let out a blood-curdling, terrified scream.

"Aaah! Stop! Eliana, please stop!" Henrietta shrieked, falling backward against the dining table, clutching her bleeding arm. "Someone help me! She's trying to kill me!"

Chaos erupted.

"Henrietta!" Miguel roared.

He moved faster than I had ever seen him move. He shoved me out of the way so hard I crashed into the wall.

"My baby!" Louisiana screamed, rushing out of her chair.

"Miguel, she just grabbed the knife!" Henrietta sobbed hysterically, burying her face in his shirt. "She said if she couldn't have you, she'd kill me! I didn't do anything!"

"I've got you, it's a shallow cut, you're going to be okay.”

"Are you insane?!" Carmen shrieked, storming over and towering above me. "How could you be so cruel, Eliana?!"

"I didn't touch her!"

"She did it to herself! I swear to God, Miguel, she cut herself!"

"You psycho," Miguel growled.

"You did this out of pure jealousy. Because you know you will never, ever be half the woman she is."

"Miguel, please," I begged, coughing as a sharp pain shot up my throat. "She's lying. She dropped the knife at my feet."

"I saw you do it, you filthy liar!" Louisiana yelled. "I saw you grab the knife and slash my daughter!"

"She's unstable, Miguel," Carmen added, shaking her head in disgust. "The surgery must have broken whatever was left of her pathetic mind. Call the police. Have her arrested for attempted murder."

"No," Miguel said quietly. He stood up, leaving Henrietta in her mother's arms, and walked over to me.

He grabbed the collar of my sweater and hauled me halfway off the floor.

"You are going to pack whatever cheap trash you brought into this house, and you are going to walk out that front door," Miguel commanded, his face inches from mine.

"If I ever see your face again, if you ever come within a hundred feet of Henrietta, I will personally destroy you. Do you understand me?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He dropped me.

I was bleeding out on his floor, and he didn't even blink.

Miguel turned his back on me and knelt beside Henrietta, softly kissing her forehead as he checked the bandage on her arm. Carmen stood above me, crossing her arms, looking down at me like I was an insect waiting to be crushed.

Miguel didn't even look at me. "Get out, Eliana."

I looked at his broad back. I looked at the man I had sacrificed a part of my own body to save.

"I'm leaving," I said. Miguel paused slightly, perhaps surprised by the sudden lack of tears in my voice, but he didn't turn around.

"I will have my lawyers draft the separation agreement," Miguel dismissed me. "You will get nothing."

"Don't bother with a separation.”

"I want a divorce."

Eliana

The freezing rain outside the luxury shopping center pounded against the massive glass panels.

I didn't have a coat. I didn't have a bag. All I had was my phone clutched in my trembling hand and the few dollars left in my digital account. I just needed gauze. I needed extra-strength painkillers. I needed to stop the bleeding before I collapsed on the floor.

I turned the corner too quickly, my foot slipping slightly on the floor.

Thud.

I collided directly with a solid, broad chest. Two powerful, steady hands caught me by the upper arms, holding me upright with immense care.

"I’m so sorry," I gasped out, my voice cracking as I fought for breath, desperately trying to pull away out of sheer panic. "I’m so sorry, I didn't see you, I"

"Steady, child.”

I forced my eyes up. The man holding me was older, perhaps in his late fifties, dressed in a charcoal suit that screamed old money and absolute authority.

He didn't let go. Instead, his gaze froze on the right side of my neck, where my soaked sweater had stretched down, exposing my collarbone.

"Sir?" I whispered. "Please, I need to get to the chemist..."

The man didn't seem to hear me. His fingers tightened on my arms.

"The birthmark on your neck... how did you get it?"

I blinked through my tears, entirely confused. "What?"

"The crescent-shaped mark," he demanded.

"Right below your ear. How long has it been there?"

"I... I was born with it," I stammered.

"Please, sir….I…”

“What's your name, dear?"

"Eliana," I breathed, barely conscious.

"My daughter... my daughter had that exact mark. The identical shape.”

"I have to go," I whispered, panic rising again. I couldn't deal with a stranger's delusion right now. I was bleeding out.

"Please," the man said, his voice instantly turning from a command to a desperate plea. "Are you in a hurry? Can we talk outside for just a moment? I am not going to hurt you. I swear it on my life."

He didn't wait for me to answer. He kept a supportive arm firmly around my waist, absorbing most of my weight as he guided me toward the private, VIP exit of the shopping center. The security guards at the doors didn't look at us; they bowed deeply as we passed.

We stepped into the covered, private driveway.

"I know this is incredibly rude, and I promise I have a valid reason," the man said, turning me gently to face him.

Before I could protest, He waved his fingers through my damp hair, brushing a stray lock behind my ear. It felt like a paternal gesture, something I hadn't experienced in a lifetime. But as his hand pulled away, I noticed his fingers subtly retain a few strands of my hair that had caught in his signet ring.

He didn't hide it. He turned slightly toward a towering man dressed in a black suit standing precisely two steps behind him.

"See that you run it right away. Direct priority to the lab."

"Yes, Mr. Rekho," the guard responded instantly, bowing his head.

"Please, can we sit in the car?" the older man Rekho asked, turning back to me, his eyes searching my face with a terrifying intensity. "You are pale, Eliana. You are shivering."

"I shouldn't..." I began, turning my head toward the driveway.

And then, I gasped.

Standing in the center of the VIP lane was a vehicle that didn't look real. It was a sleek, midnight-black Macgrovani hyper-luxury sedan, custom-built, its carbon-fiber body gleaming under the security lights. A coach-built masterpiece worth about 500 million dollars. There were only three in existence globally.

What the hell? Who the hell was this man?

Before my brain could process the sheer absurdity of the wealth standing before me, my legs gave out completely.

"Eliana!" Rekho caught me before I hit the pavement.

Without a word, he lifted me effortlessly into his arms, ignoring the fact that my wet, blood-stained sweater was ruining his multi-thousand-dollar suit. He carried me directly into the back seat of the Macgrovani.

The moment the tension left my body, the dam broke.

A sob tore from my throat, violent and uncontrollable. I curled into myself on the wide leather seat, burying my face in my hands. The betrayal, the slaps from Carmen, Miguel's cold eyes, Henrietta’s bloody arm, the fact that I had given up a piece of my own body for a man who viewed me as a spare part it all crashed down on me at once.

Rekho simply pulled a thick, cashmere blanket over my shoulders and drew me into his side. He wrapped a strong, protective arm around me, letting me cry into his chest.

Somehow, unreasonably, I felt entirely safe in his arms.

"Let it out, child," Rekho murmured, his hand gently resting on my shoulder, deliberately avoiding my stomach as if he already knew I was fragile. "You're safe now. No one is going to touch you."

I told him about Miguel.

I must have drifted into a state of semi-consciousness, because the next thing I knew, the car had stopped. The door opened, and Rekho helped me step out.

I looked up, and my breath caught again.Miguel’s mansion look like a guest house. It was a massive, historic villa surrounded by high stone walls, towering gates, and immaculate gardens.

"Come," Rekho said softly, keeping his arm firmly around my waist as he led me through the grand double doors into a sprawling, marble-floored foyer.

A young man was sitting on a sofa in the center of the living room.

He was devastatingly handsome the kind of sharp, aristocratic beauty that looked straight out of a high-fashion luxury magazine. He had thick, dark hair brushed back, a sharp jawline covered in a shadow of stubble, and intense, grey eyes that were currently glued to a sleek silver laptop resting on his lap. He wore a crisp white shirt with the top three buttons undone, revealing a hint of his chest.

Rekho stopped abruptly in his tracks, his brow furrowing as he looked at the young man.

"Aren't you sick?" Rekho asked, his tone a mix of stern authority and genuine fatherly concern. "Why are you working?"

"I’m fine, father.”

His voice had a flawless british accent. He stood up, and I realized he was incredibly tall easily six foot three, with a powerful, athletic build that commanded the entire room.

Rekho let out a soft sigh, turning slightly to me. "I’m so sorry, dear. That is Craig, my son."

Craig finally turned his grey eyes toward us. He looked at his father, then his gaze slid over to me. His expression didn't change. It remained completely aloof, cold, and entirely unbothered. He looked at my soaked sweater, my pale face, and my blood-stained hands as if I were a piece of stray luggage his father had picked up on the road.

He completely ignored me. He didn't say hello. He didn't ask who I was.

"The security detail said you went to the commercial center," Craig said to his father, his British accent clipping the words perfectly. "I didn't realize you were bringing home company."

"We will discuss it later," Rekho said firmly. He turned to a head maid who had quickly appeared in the hall. "Martha, get her settled into the master suite immediately. Run a warm bath, prepare the finest linen, and have the doctor come up to check her side. She is injured."

"Right away, sir," Martha said, bowing.

"No, please," I protested weakly, taking a step back from Rekho. "I can't stay here. I don't even know you. I just need a cab to a motel"

"Eliana," Rekho said, his voice incredibly soft but unyielding. "Look at me. You are bleeding through your clothes. You have nowhere to go. Let my staff care for you tonight. You don't have to worry about anything. I promise."

"Thank you," I whispered.

.

The maid brought me to a room that was larger than my entire apartment. A massive king-sized bed with silk sheets sat in the center. A fire was already crackling in the hearth. Martha helped me into the adjoining marble bathroom, where a deep, steaming tub filled with lavender oils was waiting.

"I can handle it from here, thank you.”

She smiled warmly and left a pair of silk pajamas on the counter before stepping out.

I cleaned myself as best as I could without submerging the wound, the warm water soothing my aching muscles. After drying off, I wrapped a fresh, clean bandage from the medical kit Martha had left, then pulled on the oversized silk pajamas. They were incredibly soft against my bruised skin.

I stepped back into the bedroom, intending to climb into the bed and disappear into sleep.

Instead, I froze.

Craig was standing by the French doors leading to the balcony. He had a glass of amber liquid in his hand, swirling it slowly. The firelight cast long, sharp shadows across his aristocratic face.

My heart skipped a beat, a sudden rush of heat hitting my cheeks. "What... what are you doing in here?"

"My father told me everything.” I swallowed hard, clutching the silk fabric of my shirt tightly over my chest. "He shouldn't have. It's none of your business."

“Are you okay?”

"I don't need your pity, Craig," I said, my voice shaking as he got closer. I backed up until the back of my legs hit the edge of the mattress.

He didn't stop until he was standing directly in front of me. The scent of his expensive woodsmoke cologne and high-end liquor filled my senses, making my head spin. Up close, he was even more intimidating. His jaw was clenched, his eyes dark with a strange, simmering anger.

"I don't pity you, Eliana," Craig whispered, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned down slightly, bringing his face inches from mine."I find it utterly pathetic that a man was stupid enough to let a woman like you go."

"You don't know anything about my husband," I whispered, my voice barely a breath.

Bang.

Craig stepped back instantly, his mask of cold indifference slipping back over his face in a split second.

Rekho stood in the doorway. He was panting, his silver hair slightly disheveled, his hands trembling violently as he held a piece of white paper.

"Father?" Craig asked.

"The lab just called back," Rekho choked out, his voice breaking completely as he looked into my eyes. "The DNA test... it's a ninety-nine point nine percent match."

"You're my daughter," he cried. "Eliana... you're my long-lost daughter."

Eliana

It had been exactly seven days.

Seven days since I dragged my bleeding, broken body out of Miguel’s mansion and into the freezing rain. Seven days since my entire reality shattered.

And seven days since Rekho, the most powerful billionaire, looked at the birthmark on my neck and realized I was the daughter he had been mourning for twenty-five years.

My wounds from the kidney surgery were finally healing, I looked at my reflection and barely recognized the woman staring back.

Martha, the head maid, had brought in a team of elite Parisian stylists. I was wearing a custom-made, midnight-black gown.

A soft knock echoed through the room.

"Come in.”

Over the past week, I had learned everything about the man standing before me. Craig wasn't Rekho’s biological son; he had been adopted from an orphanage in London when he was ten. But he didn't coast on the Rekho name. Craig had built his own massive empire from the ground up.

"The cars are downstairs," Craig said.

"Rekho is waiting in the main foyer. He wants to make sure the press is completely"

Craig stopped.

He froze mid-sentence, his hand still resting on the brass doorknob. His grey eyes slowly dragged up the length of my body, tracing the slit of my dress, lingering on the curve of my waist, before finally locking onto my face.

Then, just as quickly, the heavy iron mask slammed back into place.

"You look..." Craig cleared his throat softly, looking away toward the window. "You look presentable, Eliana. Let's go."

"Thank you, Craig," I whispered, hiding the sudden rush of heat in my cheeks.

Tonight was the annual Rekho Global Summit, an exclusive gala where the elite of the elite gathered to grovel for investments.

When we stepped into the massive, gold-gilded ballroom, the sheer scale of the wealth was suffocating. Thousands of crystal chandeliers hung from the painted ceilings. Waiters carried trays of champagne that cost more than a car.

Rekho held my hand tightly, his chest puffed with absolute pride.

"Smile, my darling," Arthur murmured, kissing my cheek. "Tonight, they all bow to you."

"Eliana, I want you to meet Bella," Arthur said, gesturing to a stunning woman in a red dress.

I gasped softly. It was Bella, the A-list Hollywood actress I had adored for years.

"Oh, darling, look at you!" Bella smiled warmly, taking my hands. "Arthur hasn't stopped talking about you all week. You look absolutely devastating."

"Thank you, it's an honor to meet you," I smiled, feeling a genuine spark of happiness.

Through it all, I could feel Craig. Every time I turned my head, those piercing grey eyes were already on me, watching, protecting, consuming.

"I'm going to get a glass of water," I told Rekho gently.

"Take the private corridor to the left, dear," he replied.

I slipped away from the crowd, craving just two minutes of silence.

"What the hell are you doing here, Eliana?"

I froze. My blood ran ice-cold.

I turned around slowly.

Miguel stood there, dressed in a sharp tuxedo. And clinging to his arm like a parasite was Henrietta, dripping in the diamonds that my kidney had effectively paid for.

Of course he was here. Miguel’s company was hemorrhaging money. He was desperate for a contract with the Rekho conglomerate to save his failing margins.

"I asked you a question," Miguel demanded, his dark eyes flashing with arrogance as he stepped closer. "How did you get past security? Are you stalking me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Miguel," I said, my voice dead calm. The fear I thought I would feel was completely gone. Looking at him now, he just looked small.

"What is the meaning of all this?" Miguel sneered, gesturing aggressively to my custom gown and the diamond necklace resting against my collarbone. "Did you steal those? Are you tricking some old, rich fool into paying your bills now? I knew you were cheap, but this is a new low."

"Miguel, please," Henrietta whined, stepping forward and glaring at me with pure disgust. "She's just trying to cause a scene to ruin our night."

"Why can't you get over the fact that it's over, Eliana?" Miguel scoffed, puffing out his chest to feed his massive ego. "I abandoned you. I divorced you. You were nothing but a spare part for my health. Move on!"

"Seriously," Henrietta chimed in, crossing her arms. "Move on! You are pathetic. Now get out before I have the security throw you out into the street where you belong."

"Is there a problem here?"

Craig stepped out, He looked lethal.

Miguel's face instantly shifted from arrogant to completely terrified. He knew exactly who Craig was. Every businessman in the world was terrified of Craig.

"Mr. Rekho," Miguel stammered, immediately releasing Henrietta's arm. "No, sir. No problem at all. We were just... dealing with a trespasser. This woman has been harassing my fiancé."

Craig kept his eyes locked on me.

"Are you ready, Eliana?" Craig asked softly. "Petrax is walking to the podium."

"Yes," I said, stepping right past Miguel and Henrietta without giving them a second glance.

"Wait, Mr. Rekho, you know this woman?" Miguel asked, utter confusion lacing his voice.

Craig finally turned his head. He looked at Miguel the way a lion looks at a dying rat. "Keep your mouth shut, Miguel. Before I buy your pathetic little company tomorrow morning and liquidate it for sport."

Miguel turned stark pale.

Craig placed a warm hand on my lower back, guiding me back into the main ballroom.

The orchestra stopped playing. The low murmur of the thousands of guests faded into absolute silence as Petrax Rekho stepped up to the gold microphone at the center of the grand stage.

Miguel and Henrietta followed us into the room, standing at the edge of the crowd, watching closely.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Arthur’s booming voice echoed through the massive speakers. "I did not invite you here tonight to discuss mergers or stock margins."

The room held its collective breath.

"Twenty-five years ago, my heart was ripped from my chest when my infant daughter was taken from me," Arthur continued, his voice thick with emotion. Tears shined in his dark eyes. "I spent my life building this empire with empty hands. But a week ago, a miracle walked back into my life."

Rekho looked directly at me. He smiled.

"I want to introduce you all to the sole biological heir of the Rekho Conglomerate," Petrax announced loudly. "My blood. My daughter. Eliana Rekho."

A collective, deafening gasp ripped through the ballroom.

I stepped forward into the blinding spotlight. The camera flashes erupted like a violent thunderstorm. Thousands of eyes stared at me in pure shock and awe.

But I only looked at one person.

Miguel.

He was standing near the ice sculpture. His jaw was entirely unhinged. The crystal champagne glass slipped from his fingers and shattered into a hundred pieces on the marble floor. The color completely drained from his face until he looked like a corpse.

Henrietta looked like she was going to throw up. She grabbed the edge of a table, her knees literally buckling under the weight of the realization.

The plain, broke girl they threw out into the rain was the heir to an empire that could buy their entire bloodline ten times over.

The media rushed forward, shouting questions, thrusting microphones over the velvet ropes. Rekho kept a protective arm around me, smiling for the cameras.

After twenty minutes of the frenzy, Rehko leaned in. "Go catch your breath, darling. I'll handle the vultures."

I nodded and carefully made my way out of the flashing lights, heading toward the private VIP lounge.

"Eliana!"

I stopped.

Miguel was running toward me, pushing through the crowd of elite guests. His tuxedo was slightly rumpled, his hair messy. He looked completely unhinged. Desperate.

"Eliana, wait!" Miguel begged, his chest heaving as he stopped in front of me. "Please, just listen to me."

"Don't speak to me," I said coldly.

"I didn't know!" Miguel pleaded, his voice cracking. He reached out and actually grabbed my bare arm. "You didn't tell me who you were! If I had known, I never would have—"

"You never would have treated me like a spare part?" I laughed bitterly. "You're disgusting, Miguel."

Henrietta finally caught up to him. She stood a few feet away, her face bright red, looking so humiliated she couldn't even make eye contact with me.

"Please, Eliana, we can fix this," Miguel groveled, his fingers tightening on my skin. He stepped closer, trying to lower his voice. Then, he looked past me and saw Craig standing a few feet away, watching us.

Suddenly, the desperate groveling turned into toxic, irrational jealousy.

"Is this what this is?" Miguel hissed, his face twisting in fury. "You threw yourself at another man? You're sleeping with Craig now to get back at me? I'm your husband, Eliana!"

"Take your hand off me," I warned.

"You're coming with me," Miguel demanded, tugging my arm intimately, trying to assert his dominance. "We are going to talk about this"

A massive hand shot out of nowhere and clamped around Miguel's throat.

Craig didn't just push him. He lifted Miguel entirely off his feet and slammed him violently backward into a marble pillar.

"Aah!" Miguel choked, his hands clawing uselessly at Craig’s iron grip.

"I told you to keep your mouth shut," Craig growled, his British accent completely dropping into a dark, feral snarl. His grey eyes were pitch black with pure, unadulterated rage. "If you ever touch her again, if you ever breathe in her direction again, I will tear you apart with my bare hands. Do you understand?"

Miguel nodded frantically, his face turning purple.

Craig dropped him in disgust. Miguel collapsed to the floor, coughing violently while Henrietta rushed over, too terrified to speak.

Craig didn't wait. He grabbed my hand, his grip warm and possessive, and dragged me down the hallway.

"Craig, wait—" I started.

He didn't listen. He pulled me past the security guards, shoved open the heavy oak doors of a private, dimly lit VIP suite, and pulled me inside.

He kicked the door shut and locked it.

Before I could process what was happening, Craig spun me around and pinned me gently but firmly against the wall. His large hands braced on the wood on either side of my head, trapping me completely.

His chest heaved. He was breathing so heavily I could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Craig," I whispered, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs. "What are you doing?"

"I am losing my mind, Eliana," Craig rasped, leaning his forehead against mine.

His scent—expensive cologne, dark whiskey, and pure danger—wrapped around me completely. My breath hitched as his gaze dropped to my lips.

"I've never felt this way before," Craig confessed, his voice a rough, desperate whisper. He brought one hand up, his long fingers threading into my hair, tracing the sensitive skin of my jaw. "I am a rational man. I control everything. But you... why do you seem to bring out the emotions in me that I didn't even know I had?"

"We just met," I breathed, trembling under his touch.

"I don't care," he stated fiercely. His thumb brushed across my lower lip, sending a massive jolt of electricity straight to my core. "I could barely contain my emotions seeing how he touched you. Seeing him put his filthy hands on what is mine."

"Yours?" I gasped softly.

"Mine," Craig confirmed, his eyes burning into my soul.

He didn't give me a chance to argue.

Craig suddenly leaned down and crashed his lips against mine.

It wasn't gentle. It was completely consuming. It was a kiss fueled by a week of pent-up tension, jealousy, and explosive chemistry. My mind completely blanked. Every coherent thought evaporated as his tongue swept into my mouth, demanding complete surrender.

I let out a soft whimper, my hands instinctively reaching up to fist in his thick, dark hair.

Craig groaned deep in his chest at the sound. He pressed his massive body flush against mine, molding my soft curves against his hard planes. His hands roamed frantically, trailing down my neck, over my collarbone, gripping my waist tightly to pull me even closer.

The heat between us was completely out of control.

"Eliana," he breathed heavily against my lips, his kisses trailing down my jawline and sinking into the sensitive skin of my neck.

His hand found the zipper at the back of my custom gown.

With one smooth, fluid motion, he pulled it down. The black silk slipped off my shoulders, pooling slightly at my waist, exposing the lace of my lingerie.

Craig stepped back just a fraction of an inch to look at me. His eyes were dark, incredibly hungry, completely captivated by what he saw. He reached out, his warm fingers tracing the edge of the lace on my chest.

"You are so damn beautiful," he whispered thickly, leaning back in to capture my lips again.