For several long minutes, the only sound in the VIP suite was Audra's ragged, uneven breathing. Jakobe remained standing in the dark shadow near the window, deliberately slowing his own breathing to make absolutely no noise.

As the initial shock of the humiliation faded, Audra's survival instincts kicked back in. She assumed Jakobe had left; any normal billionaire who heard his wife being instructed to whore herself out for corporate funding would have walked out in pure disgust.

To be sure, she turned her head toward the center of the room.

"Mr. Hartman?" she called out softly. "Are you still there?"

Jakobe looked at her blindfolded face. Driven by a dark, twisted curiosity, he kept his mouth shut, not making a sound.

Hearing no response, Audra let out a massive exhale, her rigid shoulders finally slumping forward. She fumbled with her phone and turned it back on. The moment it connected to the network, three missed call alerts from Herminia pinged loudly. Audra knew her mother; if she didn't call back and provide a satisfactory lie, Herminia would march into the clinic and cause a massive scene.

Clearing her throat, Audra dialed her mother's number. She had to play the game.

The line connected. Before Herminia could start screaming, Audra completely changed her voice, forcing a sickeningly sweet, breathless tone into her throat.

"Mom, stop calling me," Audra cooed into the phone. "Jakobe is right here with me."

In the corner of the room, Jakobe raised one dark eyebrow, a dangerous spark of amusement flaring in his eyes.

Audra kept acting to the empty room. "Yes, he's taking amazing care of me. He upgraded me to the penthouse suite and canceled all his Wall Street meetings just to sit by my bed."

Herminia's voice crackled through the earpiece, suddenly sounding greedy and pleased. To sell the lie, Audra turned her head slightly toward the empty space next to the bed, softening her voice into a pathetic, loving whisper. "Isn't that right, honey?"

The room remained dead silent.

"Mom, he's reading emails right now," Audra quickly spoke back into the phone. "He hates being interrupted."

Jakobe crossed his arms over his chest, standing perfectly still as he watched his wife deliver an Oscar-worthy performance to thin air.

Audra pushed the lie even further to secure her safety. "About the capital injection... Jakobe said he would consider it. He said he just wants me to be happy." The words tasted like ash in her mouth. It made her physically sick to pretend to be a gold-digger, but she had to survive.

Herminia finally sounded satisfied. She told Audra to keep him hooked, then hung up.

The second the call ended, the fake smile vanished from Audra's face. Pure exhaustion washed over her. She tossed the phone onto the blanket and buried her face in her hands, letting out a miserable, broken sigh. She thought she was safe.

Then, from the dark corner of the room, a low, deep chuckle vibrated through the air. The sound hit Audra like a physical bullet.

"So," Jakobe's low, resonant voice, laced with cold amusement, drifted across the room. "In Mrs. Hartman's mind, I am a foolish king who throws away capital just to make his wife smile?"

Audra's blood froze solid. She whipped her head toward the sound, her mouth falling open in pure horror.

"You... you didn't leave?" Her voice cracked violently.

Jakobe stepped out of the shadows. The slow, deliberate click of his leather shoes against the floor sounded like a countdown to her execution.

"If I left, how could I enjoy such a spectacular performance?" he asked. He walked right up to the edge of the bed and leaned down, his warm breath brushing against her ear.

"Tell me, honey," Jakobe whispered, throwing her fake pet name right back at her. "What else do you need me to pretend to do?"

Jakobe's whispered word—honey—exploded against Audra's ear. A violent rush of heat flooded her face, her cheeks and the tips of her ears burning a deep, humiliating red. She wanted the expensive carpet to open up and swallow her whole. Her hands grabbed the edge of the blanket, her knuckles turning completely white.

"I... I was just saying that to get my mother off my back," Audra stammered, her voice barely a squeak. "It meant nothing."

Jakobe straightened his posture and looked down at her. She was curled in on herself like a frightened turtle. The dark amusement in his eyes slowly faded into something heavier. He didn't push her verbally; he knew her defensive walls were currently pushed to their absolute breaking point.

Turning away from the bed, Jakobe walked over to the marble wet bar on the other side of the suite. Audra heard his footsteps walking away and her chest deflated, thinking he was finally leaving in disgust. But then, she heard the clink of glass, followed by the sound of water pouring from a pitcher.

He walked back to the bed, his footsteps slow and deliberate.

"Sit up," he commanded. His tone wasn't harsh, but it left zero room for argument.

Audra instinctively straightened her spine, lifting her chin so her bandaged eyes faced his general direction. He held out the glass of water. Audra reached her hand out, but because she couldn't see, her fingers grasped at empty air, missing the glass entirely.

Jakobe watched her clumsy, desperate movements and let out a quiet breath. Instead of moving the glass to her hand, he reached out with his free left hand and grabbed her wrist.

Audra's entire body jolted. The heat of his palm burned right through her cool skin, sending a shockwave directly into her nervous system. This was the first time, aside from the accident in the hallway, that they were touching—real, deliberate, non-contractual physical contact.

Jakobe didn't let go. He guided her trembling hand forward until her fingers pressed against the cold, smooth glass. His long, rough fingers brushed against the back of her knuckles, the friction sending a terrifying shiver down her spine.

She panicked, trying to grab the glass and pull her hand back, but it was heavier than she expected. It tilted, water sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

Jakobe moved instantly. He brought his right hand up and wrapped both of his large hands completely around hers, stabilizing the glass.

"Don't move," he said, his voice suddenly thick and raspy. "Do you want to soak the bed?"

Audra froze perfectly still, not daring to breathe. She let him hold her hands, let him guide the rim of the glass to her lips. She tipped her head forward and took a small sip of the water, entirely dependent on his physical guidance. The water soothed her dry throat, but the air in the room felt dangerously thin; she couldn't get enough oxygen.

Jakobe looked down, his eyes locked onto her soft, pink lips parting to drink the water. His Adam's apple bobbed hard against his throat. A red warning light flashed in his brain. This was wrong. The prenup clearly stated no emotional entanglement, yet here he was, feeding his wife water like a devoted husband.

Audra pulled her head back slightly. "Thank you. I'm done."

Jakobe snapped out of his trance, letting go of her hands abruptly. The sudden loss of his body heat made her shiver. He placed the glass on the nightstand with a stiff, uncoordinated movement and shoved both of his hands deep into his trouser pockets, desperately trying to rub away the lingering softness of her skin against his fingertips.

Neither of them spoke. But in the heavy silence, a dangerous, electric tension began to violently multiply.