ARIA

I make it to the elevator before the first sob breaks free.

My hands shake so violently that I can barely press the button. The doors slide open, and I stumble inside, grateful it's empty. The moment they close, I collapse against the wall and let the tears come.

Three years.

Three years of my life have been a lie.

Every moment, every kiss, every whispered "I love you"... all of it was a lie. A calculated, deliberate lie designed to destroy me from the inside out.

My phone buzzes in my purse. I wanted to ignore it and throw the damn thing in the trash. But some masochistic part of me needs to see.

It's a text from Vivienne.

You should see your face in the photos I took. Finally, you look as broken as I've always felt. How does it feel to lose, Aria?

Photos. She took photos of me standing in that doorway, watching my life implode.

Another text comes through. This one is from Marcus.

The engagement is obviously off. I'll have my assistant retrieve the ring. Don't bother showing up to work on Monday—I've already spoken to Richard about your position. Apparently, your promotion was contingent on my recommendation. Funny how that works.

The phone slips from my numb fingers.

My promotion. He's taking that too.

Of course he is. Why leave me with anything?

The elevator doors open in the parking garage. I don't remember pressing the button or even remembering walking. My body is operating on autopilot while my mind splinters into pieces.

My car is where I left it. A lifetime ago, when I was still stupid enough to believe in love and loyalty and happily ever after.

I slide into the driver's seat and just sit there, staring at nothing.

Marcus works for Ashford Global. One of the most powerful companies in the city. He's a VP, reports directly to...

My stomach turns.

Dante Ashford. The Dante Ashford. Billionaire CEO whose face appears in Forbes with regularity. Only attributed with the adjectives "ruthless," "brilliant," and "dangerous."

Marcus bragged about his connection to Ashford constantly. Used it to open doors, secure meetings, and leverage deals. And if Marcus is talking to Richard about my position, then he's already poisoning the well at my firm.

Everything I worked for. Everything I built through late nights and sacrifice and pure determination.

Gone.

I should go home and put in a call to Elise, my best friend. I need to start making plans for finding a new job, a new apartment, and a new life.

But I don't want to be practical right now.

I want to hurt the way I'm hurting.

I just want to forget this pain.

I want to stop being perfect, responsible Aria, who always does the right thing and gets destroyed for it anyway.

My hands are steadier when I start the car. I know exactly where I'm going.

Velvet Room.

The high-end bar where Marcus once mentioned his boss holds court in the VIP section. Where the drinks cost more than my rent and the crowd is Manhattan's elite.

I want to drown. And if I'm going to drown, I might as well do it somewhere that matches how far I've fallen.

The valet takes my keys with barely a glance at my tear-stained face. Money buys discretion, and this place reeks of money.

Inside, Velvet Room lives up to its name. Plush seating, low lighting, and expensive art on the walls. The kind of place where people close million-dollar deals over cocktails and think nothing of spending a month's salary on a bottle of wine.

I don't belong here.

But then again, I don't belong anywhere right now.

The bartender is handsome in that professional, untouchable way. He takes one look at my face and pours two shots without asking.

I down them both.

"Another," I say.

He hesitates. "Maybe we should..."

"Another." My voice cracks. "Please."

He pours one more, then shakes his head. "I'm sorry, miss. The boss's orders. I can't serve you more."

"Your boss doesn't know me."

"Maybe not." He nods toward the upper level, where the VIP section overlooks the main bar. "But he's watching."

I follow his gaze.

And freeze.

There's a man in the VIP lounge. He's seated in a leather chair that looks more like a throne, one leg crossed over the other. Even from here, I can see he's tall. Powerfully built. His suit probably costs more than my car.

But it's his eyes that stop my breath.

Ice blue. Piercing and fixed directly on me with the intensity of a predator spotting prey.

Dante Ashford.

I know it's him even though I've never seen him in person. You don't work in this city without knowing what the devil looks like.

And he's staring at me like he can see through skin and bone straight to my shattered soul.

"Who the hell is your boss?" I ask, even though I already know.

The bartender doesn't need to answer.

Something reckless and desperate takes over. I'm already destroyed. What more can happen?

So I do the stupidest thing I've done all night.

I march toward the stairs leading to the VIP section.

Security moves to intercept me, but a subtle gesture from above stops them. They part like water, letting me pass.

My heart pounds with each step. By the time I reach the top, I'm breathless.

The VIP lounge is even more opulent than below. Private, intimate. And there he is.

Dante Ashford.

Up close, he's devastating. Sharp features. Dark hair with hints of grey at the temples. That suit molded to his body like a second skin. Everything about him screams power and control and danger.

But it's his eyes that hold me captive; they are cold, assessing, and somehow, hungry.

I open my mouth to speak.

And that's when I see her.

A beautiful blonde on her knees between his legs. Her head is moving in a rhythm that makes my face burn.

I should leave. Should run. This is mortifying.

But I can't move.

Because Dante Ashford isn't looking at the woman servicing him.

He's looking at me.

And then he says my name.

"Aria Sinclair."

ARIA

His voice is dark velvet. Smooth and rich and absolutely commanding.

The blonde pauses, looking up in confusion. But Dante's gaze never wavers from mine.

"Leave us." He ordered 

The blonde protests. "But..."

One look from those ice-blue eyes and she scrambles to her feet, straightening her dress and fleeing without another word.

Dante stands in one fluid motion. He's even taller than I thought. At least six-five. He towers over me as he closes the distance between us, and I suddenly understand why people describe him as dangerous.

He adjusts himself with zero shame, buttons his pants, and stalks toward me like I'm something he's decided to acquire.

"You wanted to see me, Miss Sinclair?"

My mouth has gone completely dry.

"How do you know my name?"

His lips curve into something that's not quite a smile. "I know everything about you, Aria. Your promotion to Senior Director. Your engagement to Marcus Kane. Your twin sister, Vivienne."

The room tilts again. "How..."

"And I know exactly what happened two hours ago in Marcus's apartment."

The ground drops out from under me.

He knows. Dante Ashford knows that I walked in on my fiancé fucking my sister. Knows about the betrayal, the humiliation, everything.

"Marcus works for me," he continues, circling me slowly. "And I know he's been embezzling from my company while fucking your twin sister."

"Why..." I have to clear my throat. "Why are you telling me this?"

He stops directly in front of me, so close I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. This close, I can smell his cologne that screams "expensive" and "intoxicating" in different languages.

"Because you came here to drown your sorrows, Aria. And I'm going to tell you that won't work."

"Then what will?"

"Revenge."

The word hangs between us like a promise.

Or a threat.

"What are you talking about?"

His hand comes up, and I think he's going to touch me. Instead, he traces the air a breath away from my jaw, not quite making contact but close enough that I feel the heat of his skin.

"Marry me," he says. "Be my wife. And I'll give you everything you need to destroy them in front of everyone who matters."

I must be drunker than I thought. "You're insane."

"Say yes, Aria."

"I don't even know you."

"You know enough." He steps even closer, and now I'm backed against the railing overlooking the bar below. "You know I have the power to crush Marcus's career. The influence to turn your sister into a social pariah. The resources to make sure they spend the rest of their lives regretting what they did to you."

His words sink into my skin like poison. Sweet, tempting poison.

"Why would you do this?"

For a moment, something flickers in those cold eyes. Something almost like heat.

"Because I want you," he says simply. "And I always get what I want."

He's circling me again, and I feel like prey being stalked.

"We'll have the wedding of the century," he continues. "In three weeks. Marcus and Vivienne will be there, forced to watch you marry a billionaire. Watch you become untouchable. Watch you win."

Three weeks. He's talking about marrying a stranger in three weeks.

"This is crazy," I whisper.

"Then walk away." His voice is silk and steel. "Go home. Cry into your pillow and let them win. Let Marcus keep your promotion and your dignity. While Vivienne celebrates destroying you."

Every word is a knife, expertly placed.

"Or..." He stops in front of me again. "Stay. Say yes. Take what you're owed."

I should walk away and run away from this dangerous man with his dangerous offer.

But I'm so tired of being good and responsible and being the twin who always does the right thing and gets punished for it.

Something breaks open inside me. Something reckless and desperate and done with being a victim.

"I have one condition," I hear myself say.

His eyebrow raises. "Name it."

The words come out before I can stop them. Before I can think. Before I can remember all the reasons this is a terrible idea.

"Take my virginity. Tonight. Right now. I don't want it anymore."

Dante Ashford's eyes flare with heat that makes my entire body ignite.

"I don't want them to have that victory," I continue, my voice stronger now. "I don't want Marcus to be my first. I don't want to give him anything else. If we're doing this...if I'm saying yes to your insane plan...then we start now, before I regret it tomorrow."

For a long moment, he just stares at me. Then his hand finally makes contact, gripping my jaw with firm, possessive fingers.

"You're sure about this, Aria?"

No. I'm not sure about anything.

But I'm done being careful.

"I'm sure."

His thumb brushes my bottom lip. "Understand something. I don't make love. I fuck. I'm dominant. Demanding. It will be on my terms, my way. And I won't be gentle with you."

My breath catches. "Then don't be gentle."

"You'll regret this."

Maybe. Probably.

But right now, the only thing I regret is three years wasted on a man who never loved me.

"I already regret waiting," I tell him. "Take me upstairs."

Dante's eyes go absolutely dark. He releases my jaw and steps back, pulling out his phone. A quick text, and then he's extending his hand to me.

"Safe word is daddy," he says. "Use it if you need to stop. Do you understand?"

I place my hand in his. His fingers close around mine, warm and strong and completely in control.

"I understand."

"Good." He pulls me toward a private elevator I hadn't noticed. "Because once we start this, Aria, there's no going back. You'll be mine. In every way."

The elevator doors close behind us.

And I realize I just made a deal with the devil.

But maybe that's exactly what I need. I need someone ruthless enough to burn my enemies to ash.

Maybe I need to be claimed by someone who sees me not as perfect, responsible Aria, but as something worth possessing.

The elevator rises toward his penthouse.

ARIA

The elevator ride feels both endless and too short.

Dante hasn't released my hand. His thumb traces absent patterns on my wrist, right over my racing pulse. He has to feel how fast my heart is beating. And know how I'm terrified and reckless and possibly making the biggest mistake of my life.

But he doesn't say anything. Just watches me with those ice-blue eyes that seem to see everything I'm trying to hide.

The elevator opens directly into his penthouse.

Of course it does. Because Dante Ashford owns the entire top floor.

The space is massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows that showcase the Manhattan skyline, glittering against the night. Everything is modern, expensive, and cold. Black leather, chrome fixtures, and abstract art that probably costs more than my yearly salary.

It looks exactly like the kind of place a ruthless billionaire would live.

"Last chance to walk away," Dante says, releasing my hand.

I should take it, turn back, press that elevator button, and escape back to my safe, predictable life.

Except I don't have that life anymore. Marcus and Vivienne destroyed it two hours ago.

"I'm not walking away."

Something flickers across his face. Approval, maybe. Or hunger.

"Come with me."

He leads me through the penthouse, past the living area and gourmet kitchen, down a hallway lined with what look like original Rothkos. Every step feels surreal, like I've wandered into someone else's life.

The master bedroom is enormous. The bed alone is bigger than my entire bedroom at home. Dark wood, crisp white linens, and more of those floor-to-ceiling windows. The city spreads out below us like we're gods looking down on mortals.

"Wait here," Dante says.

He disappears into what must be a closet, leaving me standing in the middle of his bedroom with my heart trying to beat out of my chest.

What am I doing?

I'm about to have sex...lose my virginity...to a man I met twenty minutes ago. A dangerous man who just offered me a revenge marriage, like it's a business transaction.

This is insane.

But the alternative is going home alone, crawling into bed, and accepting that Vivienne and Marcus won. That they destroyed me and got to walk away laughing.

No.

I lift my chin, steeling my spine.

I'm done being the good girl who gets crushed.

Dante returns holding several lengths of black silk. My stomach flips when I realize what they are.

Restraints.

"Strip," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Slowly."

My hands tremble as I reach for the zipper of my dress. It's the one I wore to work this morning... professional, conservative, the armor of Senior Director Aria Sinclair.

Except I'm not her anymore.

I pull the zipper down slowly, letting the dress slide off my shoulders. It pools at my feet, leaving me in my bra and panties. Nothing fancy. I wasn't planning on anyone seeing them today.

The irony isn't lost on me.

"All of it," Dante says. He's leaning against the bedpost, arms crossed, watching me like I'm the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.

I reach behind to unhook my bra. My fingers fumble with the clasp. Finally, it comes free.

I let the cool air hits my skin, making my nipples harden. Or maybe that's from the way Dante's eyes track every inch of my body with predatory focus.

"Panties too."

I hook my thumbs in the waistband and slide them down, stepping out of them. Now I'm completely naked in front of this stranger, and I've never felt more exposed in my life.

Dante circles me slowly, the way a buyer might inspect a prize horse. It should make me feel objectified. Degraded.

Instead, heat pools low in my belly

"Beautiful," he murmurs, more to himself than to me. "Has anyone ever told you that, Aria? That you're beautiful?"

"People say nice things," I manage.

"I'm not talking about nice things." He stops in front of me, so close I can feel the heat radiating off his body. "I'm talking about someone worshipping every inch of your skin. Making you believe it in your bones.

No. Marcus never made me feel beautiful. He made me feel tolerated. Managed

"Get on the bed," Dante orders. "Arms above your head."

I obey, my body moving before my brain fully processes the command. The sheets are cool against my overheated skin. I stretch my arms up, gripping the headboard.

Dante follows, his weight dipping the mattress. He's still fully dressed in that expensive suit, and somehow that makes this even more intimate. He's in control. I'm exposed and vulnerable.

Completely at his mercy.

He takes my left wrist and wraps one of the silk restraints around it, securing it to the headboard. Then the right. The silk is soft but unyielding. I tug experimentally.

I'm not going anywhere.

"Remember your safe word," Dante says, his fingers trailing down my arm, across my collarbone, and between my breasts. "Daddy. Say it if you need me to stop."

"I remember."

"Good girl."

The praise shouldn't affect me the way it does. But heat floods through me, and I press my thighs together instinctively.

Dante notices. Of course he does. His lips curve into a dark smile.

"Eager already? I haven't even touched you yet.

"You are touching me."

"Not where you want me to." His hand splays across my stomach, fingers spanning the space between my hipbones. "I'm going to take my time with you, Aria. I'm going to learn every sound you make, every place that makes you gasp. And I'm going to make you come before I fuck you. Multiple times."

Oh God.

"By the time I'm inside you," he continues, his voice dropping to pure sin, "you're going to be desperate for it. Begging for me."

"I don't beg," I say, trying to sound defiant.

His smile sharpens. "You will.