He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. "Luke King."

When my brows were this close to touching my hair, I knew I was in trouble.

Luke's identity is a mystery to me.

I saw his name from magazine. The ruthless, powerful, and boringly attractive lord of Empire Capital. He rose from nothing , leaving competitors and colleagues in his wake. Anyone in his way was killed without ceremony or emotion.

A marriage contract stared at me. It's his.

How come? I asked. We needed a catch. No way Luke King needed an arranged marriage to get married. He made money and fucked girls.

Dad turned away.

"You don't have to do this. This is a condition of his support."

"He'll save your life, and all he wants is to marry a woman he's never met?"

I nudged the contract, wondering if it was rigged to explode.

The contract in front of me felt heavy, as if it had its own gravitational pull that could derail my entire life.

"How is Mom now?" Then I asked.

He looked at his hands. Using his fingers, he pulled and kneaded.

"She is awful. But she didn't tell you because she didn't want you to worry."

He hesitated for a moment.

"He wants to see you first," my dad said.

"He said to come by whenever. It's always open. He wants to make sure you meet his wife needs."

My stomach was pinched by a cold fist.

"This is nuts,"

"I'll see him," I said.

I wanted to punch my father when I saw his relief. He destroyed my mother's life without thought, and now he wanted to destroy mine by using me as a pawn.

Well. My mom loved me, but I wasn't her. I left the coffee shop without telling my dad goodbye.

Empire Capital stood on Financial , as did most of its sister companies, which all had interchangeable names with dominant connotations.

I walked up to the receptionist desk, sleek and alone in the dark gray slate floor. Behind it, a receptionist typed on a keyboard and viewed a thin white monitor.

A minute passed before she looked at me.  As I stood still, flecks fell to the spotless floor.

Good. I wasn't going to be the perfect wife Mr. King wanted, and I showed it.

Finally, she looked at me. The perfect nose wrinkled.

"May I help? "she asked.

"Yes, I said. I want to talk to Luke King. He's expecting me," I said .

She blinked and I felt bad.

"Joyce. "

"Oh!" She widened her eyes. "Sure, Ms. I'll tell them you're here."

That's... odd. In my experience, powerful rich men set their own schedules, and others had to follow.

"Thanks, I said. "

While she quickly punched numbers into her computer's numberpad, I looked for a seat.

She grins at me.

"Yes, top floor."

"Thanks," I said lamely. I skirted the desk and receptionist and headed to the elevators. When I pushed the button for the top doors, they opened immediately. I enter.

My stomach dropped as they closed behind me.

Now that I was in the elevator and headed to see Luke King, my nerves failed. I should have ripped up the contract, thrown it at my father, and not come

The elevator stopped and the doors opened.

The top story of the building was white marble and gilded, and the ground floor was corrosion resistant and granite. In a business setting, the chandelier illuminates, expensive mahogany desk, and white marble floor stand out.

I assumed Mr. King's assistant was standing behind the desk and bowed to me. Bowing. My dim memories of my father's offices are of stately grandeur, not spa-weekend gaudiness.

"Ms. Green"He pointed to a pair of twin double doors on the right.

I lifted my chin despite stomach butterflies. As I passed him and entered, I enjoyed seeing his startled face.

Behind the doors was another foyer. This space was sparsely decorated with a large aquarium and zen fountains. Two frosted glass doors stood opposite me.

I inhaled and opened the door.

Luke King stared out a window at the France skyline. He turned when I entered and watched as I entered his office.

I didn't look. Depressingly, he was as stunning in person as he was on magazine covers. His dark hair was perfectly coiffed, and his eyes were bright green. The light fell on them beautifully, as if the world were made to highlight his beauty. His full, sensual lips framed his high cheekbones and straight, powerful nose. His chin was diamond-cutting. He had the body to match his comfortable yet GQ attire.

Holy shit, he's hot.

Hormones! I hadn't gotten laid in six months since I broke up with Gino .

"We're getting married?" He just stared at me.

My words fell like silverware between us. As he stared, I realized he was no ordinary looking man. Even across the room, I could feel his magnetic pull. It was intense and terrifying. His personality far outweighed his beauty, even when he wasn't moving.

Finally he smiled. He greeted .

I wanted to sit down. He had a sinful voice.This was a voice you could turn up loud and sit on your speakers to. I'd never done that...

Shaking myself, I focused. "Yes, I said. Hello." I turned away and studied his office to avoid him.

Nothing was in it. One end of the room had his desk, chair, and computer, and the other had two sofas .

I had the wild idea that Luke King was like dumb old Gino, but with charisma.

He was still. Still smiling, he stared at me.

I said, "Looking is free, but touching costs money."

Slowly, he cocked his head. "Nothing's free, he said."

If he had been anyone else, the words would have been laughable, but the way he said it, screamed that he had given them serious thought and said them after a long struggle to find the truth.

I swallowed and kept calm. Despite my will, my heart raced. I wasn't sure why, but he broke his silence.

Slowly, he walked toward me around the desk.

When he approached, I reminded myself why I was there. I doubted it was sex.

This thought broke the strange spell he had cast on me, and for a moment I was free of his gravitational pull.

"You're rude," I said. "You want to marry me but haven't asked my advice. "

My words only made him tighten his eyes. At the spot where most people stop and respect personal space, he took two more steps.

I could smell him as he loomed over me. Cool and calm, like ice, but with the rich tang of his skin. A man's odor.

Already racing, my heart sped up. Blood pressure rose. It was inches away. If my tits were bigger, I could've inhaled and brushed them on his chest.

I vaguely thought, This is not going well. Slippery. Other ideas emerged, like kiss him!

A smile returned, and he lifted an arm. I thought he was going to crush me, so my heart leapt.

He pointed to my left, though.

"Sit."

I attempted to calm down. My heart was racing. I wasn't sure why he suddenly moved, but he did.

He walked slowly around the desk to me. He walked gracefully.

As he neared, I reminded myself why I was there.

This idea broke the peculiar spell he had cast over me, and for a moment I was free from his gravitational pull. His fragrance surrounded me. It was chilly and peaceful, like ice, but had his skin's deep flavor. Manscent.

My heartbeat doubled. My heartbeat quickened. We were inches apart. If my tits were bigger, I could have brushed them against his chest.

He smiled and raised his arm. My heart soared when I believed he'd crush me.

But he merely pointed left.

I whirled, smacked his shoulder and stomped to the couch. I had to conceal a gasp, his touch shot electric impulses through me.

I flopped down on his superbly equipped couch and rested one flip-flopped foot on the table. I liked my chipped toenail polish.

Luke King was still. He surveyed me coolly from his office's center.

He squinted at me. I sat awkwardly on his couch, horny. Finally, he walked over.

Instead of sitting on the opposite couch, he sat next to me and crossed his legs, revealing his suit pants' beautiful lines.

I didn't want to show him I was uncomfortable, so I fished the contract from my handbag.

"So...?" I threatened him with the contract. If he'd been sitting across from me like a normal person, it would have been more effective. Instead, I flapped it beneath his nose.

He smiled again, propped one arm on the couch, and inclined his head.

He answered, "It's a wedding contract."

"I thought your father would tell you"

His body heat spread between us. My shoulder almost touched his chest, and I wished I'd worn a light skirt because I was sure his knee touched mine, but my clay-stained pants were too thick to feel it. My tingling knee sent tremors up my leg. They curled around my thighs' heated apex.

I tried to ignore it. "Yes, but why?"

"And you'll take on my father's terrible debt?"

He pursed his lips, a delicious action. My eyes were pulled to them anyhow. I wanted to drag my tongue down his mouth's seam to open it and battle with his. I licked my lips while staring at his face. I squeezed my tongue behind my teeth and raised my eyes as I realized my mistake.

He looked at me coolly. "Your dad's debt isn't insurmountable," he said. His company has name and contacts. He grabbed the document from me almost absently, his fingers slipping over mine. Over my heartbeat, I heard myself gasp.

Exactly. He dropped the contract and turned to me. His attention landed on my hair, a birdsnest of dark chestnut curls I couldn't control and piled haphazardly on top of my head.

His fingers tangled the hair. It was like he was twisting me up, over, and under. My skin scorched and my lips ached for his kiss. I sought to understand my belly's need.

"You get my father's firm and me.!"

Luke King nuzzled my hair. Even I found this excessive.

I stumbled and grabbed the contract.

First, he seemed astonished. "See whether we're sexually compatible," he said.

"That's presumptuous." My legs shook, but I didn't want to appear weak.

When he grimaced, a line formed between his brows.

"Why would you marry if you didn't sexually desire me?" he asked.

"Getting such things out of the way early may prevent regrettable decisions." He raised his chin and surveyed me. His gaze was like a blowtorch, melting my skin and bones. "I think we'll match well."

I couldn't imagine this man wanting me. I must keep focused.

"I don't need love or affection. As per the contract, a wife would suit my demands."

"Why did you think I'd agree?"

He frowned. "You can analyze the benefits," he continued.

I raged. I said, "Fuck you."

"I know a lot about you," he answered coolly. "You like knitting but abandon projects often. You leave harsh anonymous remarks on other artists' websites. I know you feel horrible enough to anonymously criticize."

"Wh-what? You... stalked me?"

He seemed confused, as though he didn't understand why I asked. " Yes, " he replied.

" If we marry, I should know who I'm marrying."

OMG. OMG. OMG. He knew what?

Luke King pierced me. Everything was his.

"You'd have time to focus on your art, too. No more shoving your products down the stairs because you have to move."

I suffocated. It hurt. Ouch!

As he got closer, I retreated until I struck a floor-to-ceiling window and flattened myself against it.

He touched my cheek, throat, and breasts.

"I thought you would find a couple stipulations in the contract... distasteful," he replied. His voice was dreamy, but I couldn't hear him over the blood in my head.

" Given how much you desire me."

"No," I answered.

His eyelashes moved. When he discovered my nipple, he wrapped his thumb and forefinger around it.

"What did you say?" he inquired.

"I don't want you."

He twisted my nipple.

Painful pleasure raced from my nipple to my clit. My legs buckled when I screamed. Nervous hands dropped purse and contract.

Luke King said, "Don't lie."

He stroked his fingers over my body but avoided my flesh, as if it might hurt him. His kisses traveled over my sweater, waist, and hip. His hands found the delicate wrinkles where my ass met my thighs. He scratched my legs with dull fingernails. They were hardly noticeable through my jeans.

I wanted to put his face in my crotch. I wanted his mouth and cock. I hovered my hands near his hair and ears, frightened to touch him.

His nose grazed my hip and jeans. He stopped at my thighs and inhaled.

He leaned on the glass behind me. His lips caressed my ear and he went closer until I felt his cock in his pants against my belly.

He said, "I can smell you."

"Your pussy begs me to fuck it." His furnace-hot body hovered over mine, and his erection pushed against my stomach.

"Sign the deal and get whatever you want." He massaged his cock over me, almost touching my pussy. My underwear was drenched with juice. His lips brushed my throat, stopping my heart.

Where he touched me, flames licked my flesh. I grasped his shoulders. Under his white linen shirt, he had strong planes and tremendous muscle. My hands clinched as he ran his fingertips along my sweater's hem. Then, slowly, he slipped them under and caressed my stomach.

I tried to stop him. He wouldn't stop.

He pressed his palm on my abdomen and slid his hand under my jeans' waistband and elastic.

I drooped and shoved his hand. He split my outer lips and slid his fingers along my slit, but he didn't touch my swelling clit.

His fingers were coated in my juices. His other two fingers skimmed my slit, but didn't touch.

I tried to trap him with my hips, but he avoided me. He murmured into my skin and scraped his teeth on my collarbone.

He muttered, "Beg me to take you." His voice shook my bones. "Beg me to fuck you on the couch."

I spoke before thinking. I whispered, "Yes."

"Please."

I left my dignity behind as I grabbed my handbag and contract. I didn't straighten my hair before bursting through the double glass doors. Instead, I went for the wooden doors and burst through them.

As I ran to the elevator, I shuffled clumsily. The doors opened when I slammed my hand on the button. I fell in, and they started to fall.

My clitch was exposed as I reached inside my pants and parted my pussy lips. While one hand slithered beneath my ragged sweater and bra strap, I stroked my fingertip furiously in rapid circles to stimulate the nerve endings. To satiate my hunger, I gripped my breasts and tapped my nipple. It seemed as if my body was on fire as my legs collapsed and I lurched against the railing. Sobbing, I let out an audible gasp as my cheeks became heated and flushed.

As I drew fluid from my slippery folds across my clit, my hips collapsed. I startled as I envisioned Luke King's huge, rough hands grabbing hold of me in the dark. When the waves of pleasure slammed into me and threatened to draw me into a deep, hungry ocean, my back arched and I screamed.

My whole body seemed to contract during my orgasm, my hungry passage squeezing around nothing. Insufficient. Insufficient. I couldn't fuck him. I almost sobbed with disappointment as my body spasmed.

Before I could pull my hand out of my pants, the elevator doors opened.

In the foyer, businessmen waited. and I just managed to escape.

In an elevator, I masturbated.

Gulping, I wiped my sticky fingers on the inside of my sweater and left.

I took three wrong turns in the lunch crowd before finding the bus station. I buried my face in my hands and tried to think when I boarded . My fingers smelled like my own juices, reminding me of my salacious behavior. When I got home, my feelings were slim pickings

The next morning, I was nursing a hangover in a lawyer's office.

I was still drunk...

After my encounter with Luke King and embarrassing elevator display, I felt dazed and useless.

I sat down, opened the contract, and read for 10 minutes. I'm a mature problem-solver. My father left me ten voicemails during my meeting with Luke King, which I deleted.

I needed a lawyer, so I went. I wanted to know if it was binding, If I sign.

I had to look up a few to make sure they were correct.

I shifted in my chair as I stared at the contract in my lap. It was illegal. 95 percent sure. If I didn't "play the submissive" in 75 percent of our sexual encounters, he couldn't sue me. Perhaps. He'd keep track? A vision of King bending me over a table and fucking me while recording it made me giggle, then set my cheeks on fire when I remembered he had told me to beg him to fuck me that way.

I liked having a female lawyer. My needs were important.

"GREEN?"

A handsome paralegal stood in the doorway.

I slung my purse and contract over my shoulder. I entered unsteadily.

Lawyers annoyed me. My law-studying friends aren't lawyers. Most became baristas instead of lawyers. My father used the law to exploit people whose only crime was ignorance, need, or poverty.

So I entered Ms. Stock's office with trepidation, and when she smiled and shook my hand, my brain screamed.It's a trap!

"Hello, Ms. Green. "She said. She lacked lawyer's bearings. Her iron-colored hair was white-streaked, and her eyes were dark.

"What, your fiance?"

"Yes. I'm his bride."

She frowned. "Wanna wed him?"

"We had many issues."

Finally, she motioned for me to sit, and I gratefully did. She read the contract opposite me.

She folded her hands over the contract. She was confused. Still recovering from last night's abuse, my stomach clenched and I shrank.