ADDISON

Four days.

The number was a drumbeat in my head, a constant, panicked rhythm counting down my doom. Five days since the suffocating dinner, and I had precisely forty-eight hours left to produce a human shield wealthier and more powerful than Feign Paxton.

My "research" had been a spectacular failure. The list from Devin was a graveyard of maybes and no-chances. The tech bro, the London-based heir, the notoriously rude old money... all dead ends. The only viable, terrifying option was Bane Killian, the womanizer. My brother had, in a last-ditch effort, actually set up a date with him for tomorrow night. The thought made my skin crawl.

Which is why I was currently lurking around the Castino's lobby like a total creep for the fifth day in a row. My target: Axel Rex. I'd spent hours perched on a plush velvet bench, pretending to read a magazine while my eyes were glued to the private elevator bank that led to the penthouses. I'd seen no one who even remotely matched his description.

Giving up for the night, I trudged toward the elevators, my heels clicking a sad rhythm on the marble floor. I pressed the call button and stepped inside, leaning against the mirrored wall with a sigh of defeat. Just as the doors began to slide shut, a large, masculine hand shot through the gap, making them bounce back open.

My heart leaped into my throat.

And then he stepped in.

Axel Rex.

In person, he was... more. So much more. The photos didn't capture the sheer presence of the man. He seemed to suck all the air and light out of the elevator, leaving only a charged, heavy silence. He was taller than I'd imagined, his shoulders impossibly broad in a perfectly tailored black suit that cost more than my car. His eyes, that deep, forest green, flicked to me for a half-second, a silent acknowledgment, before he turned and pressed the button for the PH-the Penthouse.

The doors closed. We were alone.

I tried to be cool, to be the confident model the world saw. But my palms were sweating. I could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the faint, expensive scent of his cologne-sandalwood and something wild, like a storm on the horizon.

This is it. Say something. Anything.

But my mind was a perfect, terrified blank. The elevator began its smooth, silent ascent.

Then, with a sickening, violent lurch, it jolted to a halt. The lights flickered wildly before settling into an dim, emergency amber glow. A blaring alarm cut through the silence for a moment, then stopped, leaving a ringing quiet that was somehow worse.

I gasped, stumbling backward into the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs. This wasn't happening.

"Are you hurt?"

His voice was a low, calm rumble, so at odds with my panic. He was standing perfectly still, his posture relaxed, as if elevator malfunctions were a normal part of his day.

"N-no," I stammered, clutching my purse like a lifeline. "I'm fine. Just... startled."

"The backup system will engage. It will just be a moment," he said, his voice utterly sure. He pulled out his phone, typed a brief message with an unnerving calm, and then slid it back into his pocket. His gaze returned to me, intense and unnervingly focused.

The silence stretched, thick and awkward. My phone, clutched in my hand, lit up with a notification. A text from Devin.

Don't forget. Dinner with Bane tomorrow. 8 PM. Don't be late.

I felt a wave of nausea. My eyes flicked back to the screen, the countdown clock in my head screaming.

"Trouble in paradise?"

His question startled me. I looked up to find him watching me, a faint, unreadable curiosity in his green eyes.

"No," I said, a little too quickly. I let out a shaky breath, deciding on a sliver of the truth. "No, it's just... my brother. He set me up on a date. For tomorrow."

"I see." He leaned a shoulder against the mirrored wall, making the small space feel even smaller. "I thought you didn't date much. Weren't you with someone else recently? Feign Paxton."

The air left my lungs. How did he know that? For a second, it felt creepy, but then I dismissed it. Of course he knew. I was a public figure. Our "relationship" had been in all the society columns. "We broke up," I said, the words tasting bitter. "And now I need to find a new boyfriend, or my parents will... well, let's just say it won't be pleasant."

The words just tumbled out, fueled by claustrophobia and desperation. "They've given me a week to find someone... better." I made air quotes around the word, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Someone wealthier, more influential. Or else I have to go crawling back to him." I shook my head, muttering more to myself than to him, "At this point, I'd take a fake boyfriend. Anything just to get my mother's eyes off me for a while."

I hadn't meant to say that last part out loud. I braced myself for his pity, or worse, his disdain.

Instead, he was silent for a long moment, just studying me. I felt like a specimen under a microscope.

"I see," he said again, his voice thoughtful. Then, he straightened up. "I'll do it."

I blinked. "What?"

"I will be your fake boyfriend, Ms. Amber." He said it with the same finality as when he'd declared the backup system would engage. "It would be an advantage. And for your family's criteria... I am not a millionaire. I am a billionaire. I assume that will be 'good enough'?"

My mouth fell open. I just stared at him, sure I had hallucinated from the lack of oxygen. "R-really?"

He gave a single, firm nod.

The hope that surged in me was so violent it was almost painful. But I was still an accountant at heart. There was always a price. "What... what would you want in return?"

"Simple," he said, a ghost of a smile touching his lips, there and gone so fast I might have imagined it. "You will be my plus-one to various events. I am tired of the rumors-Axel Rex is too ruthless, too solitary, he can't keep a partner. Being seen with you would be... good for my public image."

It made a cold, corporate sense. A mutually beneficial transaction. Just like I'd proposed.

Just then, the elevator jolted back to life, the lights flickering on brightly before we continued our smooth ascent as if nothing had happened.

"Okay," I said, my voice stronger now. "Okay, but we need rules."

The doors pinged open on my floor. He placed a hand over the door sensor, holding them open. His gaze was unwavering. "Name them."

"First, the arrangement lasts for two months. That's it."

"Agreed."

"Second,no sex. Nothing intimate. This is strictly business."

A faint,almost imperceptible shadow crossed his features, but he nodded. "Of course."

"And third,"I took a deep breath. "We can both still see other people. Since it's not real."

For a long moment, he just looked at me, his green eyes seeming to see right through to my soul. The silence stretched, and I wondered if I'd pushed too far.

"Those terms are acceptable," he finally said, his voice a low hum.

A dizzying wave of relief washed over me. "Okay. Then... we have a deal."

"We have a deal," he repeated.

I stepped out into my hallway, my legs feeling like jelly. As the elevator doors began to close, I saw him still standing there, a powerful, immovable figure in the center of the small space, his intense eyes locked on me until the very last second.

?

ADDISON

Two days left. The deal I'd made in that stalled elevator felt less like a rescue and more like a dream I'd stupidly believed. Maybe he'd been oxygen-deprived and just agreed to get me to stop talking. Maybe I had been too open to him, I mean what kind of girl tells a man she just met almost everything about herself. Maybe Axel Rex had already forgotten I existed.

I was staring into the hopeless abyss of my coffee cup when the intercom buzzed, sharp and insistent. My heart jumped. I walked over, my bare feet cold on the floor. "Yes?"

"Package for you, Ms. Amber. From Mr. Rex's office."

The world tilted. I managed to mutter a "thank you," and leaned against the wall, my legs suddenly weak.

A moment later, my doorman was placing a long, elegant white box in my hands. It was heavy. I carried it to my dining table like it might explode, my fingers trembling as I lifted the lid.

Inside, nestled in tissue paper as black as midnight, were flowers. But not just any flowers. They were the most dramatic, dangerous-looking flowers I had ever seen. Deep, blood-red roses, so dark they were almost black, mixed with strange, elegant black lilies that looked like they'd been grown in moonlight. There was no sweet, gentle scent. It was something richer, spicier. It smelled like power.

There was a simple, thick card nestled among the stems. No handwritten note. Just crisp, typed words.

Our first public appearance is tonight.

The Vanguard Charity Gala.

A car will collect you at 7 PM.

Wear something that makes you feel powerful.

- A.R.

Tonight. It was happening. Tonight.

The panic morphed into a different, more frantic energy. I snatched my phone and called the only person who could handle this.

"Jules," I breathed the second she answered. "Code red. I need you. Now."

An hour later, my bedroom looked like a tornado had hit a very expensive boutique. Dresses were flung across my bed, my chairs, the floor. Silk, satin, sequins-a rainbow of desperation.

"Powerful, he says," Jules muttered, holding up a slinky silver dress. "What does that even mean? CEO powerful or assassin powerful?"

"I don't know!" I wailed, pulling a pale pink gown over my head. "It's Axel Rex. It probably means 'don't embarrass me.'"

I looked in the mirror. The pink was soft, pretty. It was the kind of dress my mother would approve of. It made me look like a piece of expensive candy.

"No," Jules said, reading my mind. "That's 'controlled' powerful. He didn't say controlled. He said powerful." She dove back into the pile and emerged with a garment bag I'd forgotten about. She unzipped it with a dramatic flourish.

Inside was a dress I'd bought on a whim and never had the courage to wear. It was a deep emerald green, the exact color of his eyes. It was sleeveless, with a high neckline that was both modest and severe, but the back was completely open, dipping low. The fabric was heavy, liquid silk that clung in a way that was both elegant and a little bit dangerous.

"This one," Jules declared.

I put it on. I looked in the mirror. The woman staring back wasn't the scared girl from the dinner table or the panicked mess in the elevator. She was someone else. Someone who belonged on the arm of a man like Axel Rex.

"Yeah," I whispered. "This one."

---

The black McLaren car was silent and smooth as a shark. By the time we pulled up to the museum where the gala was being held, my hands were ice-cold. The red carpet was a blur of flashing lights and shouted questions. I fixed my model smile in place, a mask I knew how to wear.

Then I felt a hand on the small of my back.

I jumped, turning to find him there. Axel. In a tuxedo that was clearly not rented, but forged onto his body. His eyes did a quick, head-to-toe sweep of me, pausing for a fraction of a second on the green of my dress. Something unreadable flickered in his gaze.

"You look... appropriate," he said, his voice low.

It wasn't a compliment, not really. But from him, it felt like one. "Thank you," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "So do you."

He kept his hand on my back as we walked, a firm, warm pressure that felt less like an affection and more like a brand. A claim. He didn't stop for the press, didn't smile. He just moved through the crowd, and it parted for him like the Red Sea.

Inside, the gala was a whirl of champagne and diamonds. He introduced me to people, his tone always the same. "This is Addison Amber." Not "my girlfriend." Not "my date." Just my name, with a weight behind it that made people pay attention.

For a little while, I almost forgot it was fake. The way he'd lean down to hear me over the music, the way his hand never left my back or arm. It felt real. And that was the most dangerous part.

Then I saw him. Feign Paxton. He was standing near the bar, his face like thunder, a glass of whiskey clenched in his hand. Our eyes met across the room, and the hatred in his was a physical force.

I instinctively flinched, my step faltering. Axel's hand tightened on my back instantly.

"Addison," Feign spat, stepping into our path. He was already a little drunk. "Moving up in the world, I see. Or just trading one controller for another?"

Before I could form a word, Axel shifted slightly, putting his body subtly between me and Feign. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to.

"Paxton," Axel said, the single word dripping with frost. "You're in our way."

Feign, emboldened by alcohol, puffed out his chest. "I was just talking to my ex-girlfriend."

"She is not your anything," Axel replied, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, yet it cut through the party noise. "And if you value your business, and your health, you will turn around and walk away. Now."

The threat wasn't loud or dramatic. It was absolute. I saw the color drain from Feign's face. He looked from Axel's cold, dead-eyed expression to me, and for the first time, I saw real fear in his eyes. He muttered something under his breath and stumbled back, disappearing into the crowd.

Axel turned back to me, his hand returning to my back. "Shall we?" he asked, as if he'd just commented on the weather.

In that moment, surrounded by a hundred people, I felt completely alone with him. The noise of the party faded into a distant hum. All I could see were his green eyes, all I could feel was the solid, terrifying warmth of his hand. He wasn't just playing a part. He was like a king, and he'd just defended his territory. And for a terrifying, thrilling second, I was glad to be in it.

ADDISON

The silence in the back of the town car was a living thing. It was thick and heavy, pressing in on me from all sides, it was suffocating. Outside, the city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white, but inside, it felt like we were frozen in time. I could still feel the heat of his hand on my back, a brand that hadn't faded. I could still see the pure, cold fury on Axel's face when he'd looked at Feign. It was murderous in all forms.

I had to say something. The quiet was going to make me scream.

"Thank you," I started, my voice sounding too loud. "For what you did back there with Feign. You really didn't have to... I mean, the threat was a little..."

"It wasn't a threat," he said, his voice a low rumble. He wasn't even looking at me, his profile a sharp, dark cut-out against the window. "It was a fact. I would have done what I said and so much more Addison, I'm not your typical gentleman."

A shiver went down my spine. It was the way he said it. So sure. So final. Like he was just stating that the sky was blue or that water was wet. He wasn't boasting; he was just telling the truth. "Yeah, I know that now."

"Smart girl." He said, and somehow it felt like the best compliment ever, people have called me hot, beautiful, gorgeous but hearing a compliment from him felt so good. What the hell was wrong with me?

"How did you know?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of my fear. "How did you know that would work?"

He finally turned his head, and those green eyes pinned me in place. "Does it bother you? The way I handled it?"

I thought about it. I really thought about it. The memory of Feign's face, the fear that had replaced his anger. "It was scary," I admitted, being honest. "But it was also a relief. A big one. So, no. It doesn't bother me."

He gave a single, slow nod, as if my answer was important. "In my world, Addison, showing weakness is not an option. That applies to you now, too."

His world. The words hung in the air. What world was that? The world of billionaires? It felt like something more.

The car pulled up to the Castino, smooth as ever. The driver came around to open my door, and I stepped out into the cool night air, expecting Axel to just drive away. But he didn't. His door opened too, and he got out.

"I'll see you to your place," he said, falling into step beside me.

We walked through the glittering, empty lobby, our footsteps echoing. The night doorman gave a respectful nod, his eyes wide with curiosity. The whole city would know by morning.

We reached the bank of private elevators and I pressed the call button. The tension was back, that strange, electric feeling that seemed to buzz between us whenever we were close. I turned to him, wanting to say something else, to break the weirdness, to break the silence. I wasn't the typical yapper, but around him, I just felt I had to talk to speak to him every time. It was a pull towards him that felt and scary at the same.

Without really thinking, I reached out and placed my hand on his forearm, where his sleeve was rolled up.

I yanked my hand back instantly. "Oh my god!"

His skin wasn't just warm. It was hot. Like he had a raging fever.

"Axel, are you sick? You're burning up!" I said, my concern instantly overriding everything else. I reached out again, more carefully this time, pressing the back of my hand to his neck. It was like touching a radiator, he stared down at my hand on his neck, looking back into my eyes. Oh shit! "I'm sorry I was a bit worried, I didn't mean to touch you like t-that... Anyway, you have a fever. A really bad one. Why didn't you say something? We should go to a hospital."

He looked down at where my hand had been, then back at my face. His expression was unreadable. "I don't have a fever."

"What do you mean you don't have a fever?" I exclaimed, my voice rising. "Your temperature is through the roof! Why the hell is it that high? If you're sick, you should be in bed, not at a party!"

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I have a naturally high body temperature. It's... normal for me."

I stared at him, baffled. "Naturally high? How is that even possible?"

He looked away, back towards the lobby entrance, his posture stiff. "It gets higher when I'm angry."

The statement was so absurd, so completely unexpected, that a startled laugh burst out of me. "What? You're kidding, right? Like a human thermometer? When you're angry, you just... what, boil over?"

He turned his head, and his gaze slammed into me. There was no humor in his eyes. None. Just a deep, aching intensity that shut down my laughter instantly. It was a look that said the conversation was over. A look that said I had just stepped over a line I couldn't see.

"It's not a joke," he said, his voice flat and final.

The elevator arrived with a soft ping. The doors slid open.

"Goodnight, Addison," he said. He didn't move to get in with me. He just stood there, a hot, angry, mysterious statue, waiting for me to leave.

"Goodnight," I whispered, stepping backward into the elevator.

As the doors closed, I saw him still standing there, watching me, his hands clenched at his sides. The last thing I saw was the fierce, hot light in his green eyes, and I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that he hadn't been lying. He wasn't sick. Why on earth was his temperature that high?

Something was very, very different about Axel Rex. And I had no idea what I had just gotten myself into.