The interior of King's estate was a study in isolation. Black marble floors, white walls, grey furniture. It was beautiful and completely devoid of life.

King led her up a floating staircase to a massive bedroom. The entire far wall was glass, looking out over the churning black Atlantic Ocean.

"You'll stay here," King said. "This is the master suite."

Adeline blinked. "Where is the guest room?"

King turned, unbuttoning his jacket. "You're not staying in the guest room. We are allies. I need to monitor my asset."

Heat rose in Adeline's cheeks. "But..."

"Why so shy?" King stepped closer, looming over her. "You weren't shy in my bathroom this morning."

He pulled a thick document from his briefcase and dropped it on the bed. "Sign it."

Adeline picked it up. Strategic Consulting Service Agreement.

She flipped through the pages. The legal jargon was dense, but the meaning was clear. She would provide information; he would provide protection and resources.

Her finger stopped at the final clause.

Clause 14: The Consultant agrees to maintain absolute availability and proximity to the Client for the duration of the project, to facilitate real-time strategic response and ensure seamless execution of high-stress negotiations.

"This is clever," Adeline looked up. "It's a leash, written by a lawyer."

King removed his cufflinks, tossing them onto the nightstand. "Clarity prevents misunderstandings. And I expect you to be available for every meeting, planned or otherwise."

He gestured toward the door. "You can refuse. The front gate is a mile that way. It's still raining."

Adeline looked at the dark ocean. She thought of Preston's face when he shoved her into the mud. She thought of Carmella's smug text messages.

She had no leverage. She had nothing.

She picked up the heavy Montblanc pen from the bedside table. Her hand shook, but she signed her name. The ink looked like black blood on the white paper.

King smiled. It was the smile of a wolf that had just cornered a lamb. He took the paper.

"Contract active. Irrevocable."

He pointed to the bathroom. "Clause one: Go wash. Scrub that filth off my investment."

Adeline walked into the bathroom. A massive stone tub was already filled with steaming water. Silas was efficient.

She scrubbed her skin until it was pink, washing away the mud, the rain, and the lingering feeling of Preston's grip. When she looked in the mirror, the girl staring back wasn't the exile anymore. She was something harder.

She wrapped herself in a black silk robe she found hanging on the door.

When she walked back into the bedroom, King was sitting on the edge of the bed, reading a file. He was wearing wire-rimmed reading glasses. It made him look deceptively civilized.

He looked up. His gaze darkened. "Come here."

Adeline walked to him. He pulled her down onto his lap.

There was no storm outside to mask the sound of her breathing this time.

King kissed her. It started slow, tasting of toothpaste and whiskey, then deepened into something starving. His hands roamed over the silk, possessive and heavy.

"Will you destroy them?" Adeline whispered against his lips.

King bit her lower lip, hard enough to sting. "I will leave them with nothing. Consider it a dowry."

That night, Adeline slept in the center of the massive bed, wrapped in King's arms. She didn't dream of Utah. She dreamed of burning buildings.

Monday morning at Wagner Capital was a religious experience for the finance world. The lobby was a cathedral of money.

King's Maybach pulled up to the curb. Flashbulbs erupted like strobe lights.

King stepped out, buttoning his jacket. He reached back in and helped Adeline out.

She wasn't wearing Chanel today. She was wearing a deep navy suit King had commissioned for her over the weekend. It was sharp, aggressive, and screamed authority.

Reporters shouted questions. "Mr. Wagner! Is the hostile takeover rumor true?"

King ignored them. He kept his hand firmly on the small of Adeline's back, guiding her through the glass doors. The physical contact was a statement louder than any press release.

They rode the private elevator to the top floor. The boardroom doors opened.

Preston was sitting at the head of the table, laughing with a board member. He looked comfortable. Safe.

When he saw Adeline, his laugh died.

"Adeline?" He stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "This is a closed board meeting. Security!"

"Sit down, Preston," King said. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the room like a whip. "She is my Special Advisor."

Adeline walked past Preston. She didn't look at him. She sat in the chair to the right of the head of the table-King's right hand.

King took his seat. He didn't waste time with pleasantries. He slid a thick binder across the polished mahogany table.

"Before we discuss the acquisition," King said, "we need to address a compliance issue."

The screen on the wall flickered to life. Spreadsheets appeared. Red numbers highlighted in neon.

"These are the financials for the Macau project," King said. "There is a twenty-million-dollar discrepancy."

The board members murmured. Preston began to sweat.

"That's... that's a clerical error!" Preston stammered. "Uncle King, you can't bring this up here..."

"I gave you a chance, Preston," King said coldly. "Friday night."

Adeline cleared her throat. Every eye in the room turned to her.

She opened her folder. "I have a supplementary document regarding the cash flow," she said, her voice cool and practiced. They had rehearsed this for hours in the Hamptons.

She slid a paper toward the center of the table. "These are wire transfers from the Macau shell company to a private account held by the Venetian Casino. The account was opened using a passport under the name Preston Wagner. I acquired these through a contact I made in Utah-someone who specializes in asset recovery from offshore gambling havens."

Preston slammed his hands on the table. "You bitch! You're lying! You hacked me!"

"Watch your tone," King snapped. The menace in his voice made a board member flinch.

"In light of this gross misconduct," King addressed the board, "I move to suspend Preston Wagner from all duties pending an internal investigation."

"Seconded," said the CFO immediately.

"All in favor?"

Every hand went up.

Security guards stepped forward. "Mr. Wagner, please come with us."

Preston looked at Adeline as they dragged him out. His eyes were wide with shock and hatred. "You'll regret this! Carmella will destroy you!"

The doors closed. Silence returned.

Adeline felt a rush of dizziness. It was the adrenaline. It was the first time she had ever tasted blood.

King leaned toward her, his voice a low murmur only she could hear. "How does it feel?"

"Like flying," she whispered.

"Don't get high yet," King said, opening the next file. "That was the appetizer. Carmella is the main course."