Carmel glanced down at his watch. The minute hand had crept halfway around the dial, yet no one had emerged from the villa compound.

Impatient, he rolled down the window to peer outside.

Scorching heat rushed in at once, shattering the cold air inside the car. A low, gruff order snapped from the back seat: "Roll it up."

The voice was quiet, laced with a sharp, unyielding edge, and carried an unmistakable air of authority.

Carmel tensed at the sound, twisting around anxiously. He obediently slammed the window back up, but couldn't help muttering under his breath.

"Frazer, if this were your sister, you wouldn't be so calm! I was supposed to be here two days ago, but you made me go pick you up-resulting in us being delayed all the way until today! My dad just gave me a serious dressing-down over the phone and laid down an ultimatum: I've got to bring her home tonight, or else she'll never set foot in this house again. He even said that if I don't get it done, he'll come pick her up himself..."

Hill Frazier hadn't slept in three days. His head throbbed, and Carmel's chattering sounded like a power drill drilling into his skull. He suppressed the cold fury simmering in his eyes, leaned back, and lifted his lids to cast a blank glance at the young man in the front. His voice was hoarse and low.

"She's also my fiancée."

Those four simple words plunged the car into dead silence.

Three generations back, the Carmel family had built a respectable fortune.

But next to the Frazier family, it was nothing but a drop in the ocean. Carmel had grown up with Hill in the same elite compound, yet over the years, he'd come to realize the chasm between them-between himself, and the unstoppable force that was Hill Frazier.

Of this generation, the Fraziers doted on none more than the man in the back seat, a figure whose name struck fear into the heart of every high-society circle.

If his own grandfather hadn't shared a life-or-death bond with the Frazier patriarch-leaving the family owing a debt of honor-this engagement would never have fallen to his little cousin...

Worry flickered in Carmel's eyes.

His little cousin had been lost for over a decade. From what he'd dug up, she was ordinary in every way-hardly a match for a man like Hill Frazier.

"She's out!"

Carmel's worries vanished in an instant. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a figure slowly walking down the asphalt road leading from the villas.

"That's her. I'll go check."

Carmel called a quick warning to the back, unbuckled his seatbelt, and practically leaped out of the car.

In the bright sunlight, the slender figure drew closer.

The first thing that caught his eye was a pair of legs-slender, pale, perfectly proportioned, and straight.

Unbelievably fair.

Carmel was used to beautiful women-he'd mingled with A-listers and socialites for years-but he still froze, staring dumbfounded.

The girl approaching was barely eighteen. Her skin was so translucent it glowed in the sun, the faint pink of her capillaries visible beneath the surface. She had a porcelain face, pitch-black eyes, and lashes long as a feather duster-three parts cold detachment, three parts pure innocence, and a hint of untamed wildness that slipped out unconsciously.

Even with all the beauties he'd met, Carmel couldn't help thinking: Stunning.

Who doesn't fall for good looks and charm? Carmel stepped forward with a bright smile, offering to take her belongings as he spoke up warmly. "Ainsley, right? I'm Carmel, your cousin. Just call me Carmel."

Ainsley lifted her gaze to him. Carmel was tall and strikingly handsome, with narrow, almond-shaped eyes that curved naturally into a friendly, disarming smile. He carried an air of nobility, yet there was an unmistakable hint of playful irreverence about him.

Huh. She thought she'd seen that face somewhere before.

Ainsley was slightly face-blind; she never bothered remembering people who didn't matter. She sifted through the faces of everyone she knew in her mind, came up empty, and dropped the thought entirely.

"Yeah. Hi, I'm Ainsley," she greeted him politely. She looked docile enough-at least, that was how Carmel saw her.

"Grandpa has trouble walking, so he sent me to pick you up instead. He'll be a little late. Your dad and my dad already booked a restaurant; they're probably there by now. Let's head over first."

Carmel kept smiling as he talked, reaching out to take her bag.

"Ainsley, I've got a friend in the car. He'll join us for dinner-you don't mind, do you?"

Ainsley dodged his hand subtly, keeping a full step behind him the entire time. Her voice was hoarse and casual, but each word was crisp and clear: "I don't mind."

Carmel stared at his empty hand, frozen for a split second. He glanced at the seemingly frail young cousin beside him in surprise, a flicker of confusion crossing his eyes.

How had she moved that fast? He hadn't even seen her dodge him.

Carmel brushed it off as a fluke and thought nothing more of it. He reached the car and held open the back passenger door.

"It's sweltering out here. Get in the car first."

Ainsley narrowed her eyes at the Rolls-Royce glinting under the sunlight, then looked away.

This was a car even her former adoptive father, Preston Thomas, couldn't afford. Just who were her biological family?

The second she slid into the car, cold air washed over her, chasing away the outdoor heat. Ainsley's gaze locked onto the so-called "friend" waiting inside.

The man leaned lazily against the plush leather seat, his presence seeming to suck all the oxygen out of the vehicle, radiating an oppressive, intimidating aura.

Hill Frazier wore a flawlessly tailored dark custom suit, his long legs crossed at the knee, a confidential corporate file resting on his lap.

He didn't utter a single word. He just stared at her, his gaze sliding slowly from the tip of her hair down to her pale lips.

The weight of that stare was crushing. Ainsley's chest tightened sharply with a surge of danger, and she instinctively shifted her hips, pressing her back firmly against the car door.

Carmel settled into the driver's seat, shifted into gear, and glanced at Ainsley through the rearview mirror. "This is my friend, Hill."

Her mind raced, sifting through every piece of information she had on powerful figures in Washington D.C., trying to match the name "Hill" to a face. She came up with nothing.

Carmel pulled the heavy luxury car onto the main road.

Hill held her gaze for three agonizing seconds.

"You look much thinner than you did in the photos."

Ainsley snapped her head up, every muscle in her body tensing. "What photos?"

Hill leaned forward slightly, invading her personal space, stopping just inches from her face. She could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with her own.

He lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper, meant for her ears only: "Your photo. As your fiancé, I should know all information about you."

Ainsley's pupils shrank to pinpricks.

Her spine went ramrod straight, her body rigid as a cat cornered by a wolf. She stared straight into Hill's face.

Scattered phrases from her biological father's phone call replayed rapidly in her mind-yet not a single word had ever been mentioned about an engagement.

"I don't need a fiancé," Ainsley scoffed. "I can get back to my family just fine on my own."

Hill did not take offense at the slight.

Instead, a low, dark chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. The physical vibration carried across the narrow space between them.

He leaned back slowly against the leather seat, casually re-establishing physical distance while maintaining absolute, dominant control of the space around them.

"This engagement was agreed upon by your grandfather and my family," Hill stated, his tone flat and matter-of-fact. "It is absolutely binding."

Carmel turned the steering wheel in the front seat.

"It's true," Carmel chimed in. "He really is your fiancé."

Ainsley snapped her head around, jaw clenched tight, refusing to acknowledge the absurd engagement.

The Rolls-Royce glided smoothly into the very heart of Washington D.C.

The scenery outside shifted rapidly, from ordinary city blocks to imposing, heavily guarded federal buildings.

The black Rolls-Royce Wraith slowed to a quiet, steady stop at the end of the red carpet outside The Capital Club.

Four valets with immaculate white gloves rushed forward at once.

The head valet bowed deeply and pulled open the heavy rear car door.

Hill stepped out first, his long legs settling onto the pavement.

He turned, pressing his broad palm flat against the roof of the car to shield the door frame from the cold rain. The gesture was aggressively possessive.

Ainsley took a deep breath.

She stepped out of the car. The stiletto heels she'd fished from her bag clicked sharply against the pavement. The hem of her black silk dress wrapped around her legs in the chilly night wind.

Carmel tossed the heavy car keys to a valet, then circled around to Ainsley's right side.

The three of them walked side by side toward the gilded revolving doors.

Inside the vast, crystal-lit lobby, Preston Thomas's suit was soaked through with sweat.

He leaned over the marble front desk, arguing aggressively with the general manager.

Katharina stood a few feet away, clad in a custom pink Chanel dress. She clung tightly to Kade's arm, looking deeply annoyed by the delay.

Eleanor plopped down heavily on a nearby velvet sofa, complaining loudly that the club's reservation system showed no respect for new money.

Preston slammed his hand down on the marble counter.

"I'm Preston Thomas of the Thomas family! I demand you find us a private booth by the window immediately!"

The manager folded his hands perfectly behind his back. His smile was polite, yet hard as steel.

"My sincere apologies, sir. But every private booth is booked tonight by our top VIP members."

Katharina felt the stares of the other guests. Her face burned with embarrassment.

She stepped forward and tugged gently at Preston's sleeve. "Dad, please. The main dining room is fine."

At that exact moment, the massive revolving doors swung open.

A chill autumn wind swept into the warm lobby.

Katharina turned her head instinctively toward the entrance, eager to see which top VIP had just arrived.

Her gaze swept past the towering Roman columns.

And locked directly onto the girl in the black silk dress.

Katharina's pupils blew wide. Her jaw literally dropped.

The girl exuding an air of absolute, untouchable elegance was Ainsley. The same Ainsley they had thoroughly cast into the dirt barely thirty minutes prior.

Kade followed Katharina's gaze.

His entire body froze. His eyes locked onto Ainsley's bare shoulders and the flawless cut of her silk dress. A raw, undeniable glint of pure desire flashed in Kade's eyes.

Eleanor saw her too.

The old woman gasped so sharply she knocked over a crystal lemon water glass on the table. The cup shattered on the floor.

Preston spun around violently.

When he saw Ainsley standing there, he immediately assumed she'd tracked them down to beg for cash and publicly ruin their reputation.

She stood motionless, watching her former adoptive father approach her.

Hill positioned himself half a step behind Ainsley's left shoulder.

He narrowed his eyes. A terrifying, lethal darkness began to pool in his black pupils.

Carmel shoves his hands into his pockets and let out a loud, mocking whistle, ready to watch the carnage unfold.

Preston stopped two feet away from Ainsley.

"Did you regret it and come back begging for money?" Preston snapped.

Katharina quickly tugged Kade toward her. She hid behind his shoulder, using him as a shield, while shooting Ainsley a venomous glare.

"Ainsley," Katharina purred, her voice dripping with false, saccharine pity. "If you're that desperate for a meal and cash, we could buy you a plate. But please don't embarrass us at a place like this."