"Is this swill?" Finn spat, pushing the teacup away so hard it rattled against the saucer. "I thought the Clemons family had taste. Apparently, bankruptcy takes everything, including the ability to brew tea."

Clay turned a shade of purple usually reserved for bruised fruit. "My apologies, Mr. Blackburn. I'll have the staff-"

"Forget it," Finn waved a gloved hand dismissively. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick document, slapping it onto the coffee table. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the silent room. "Sign. The funds transfer upon signature."

Alivia stood frozen near the fireplace, clutching the handle of a worn, vintage leather suitcase-her mother's. Its scuffed corners told more of a story than anything new ever could. She could feel the bodyguard's presence behind her like a heat source. She hadn't dared to look at him since the tea incident. Her mind was a chaotic whirlpool.

The voice. The smell. Why is the bodyguard the man from the hotel?

Clay didn't even read the first page. He flipped to the back, uncapped his fountain pen, and scribbled his name. He was selling his daughter for a liquidity injection, and he looked relieved.

"And the girl?" Finn asked, leaning back, his eyes raking over Alivia with deliberate, exaggerated lewdness. "Come here. Let me see what I bought."

Alivia's stomach churned. She didn't move.

"Alivia!" Clay hissed. He grabbed her shoulder and shoved her forward. "Show some respect!"

She stumbled, the heels of her worn-out boots skidding on the hardwood. She was going to fall right into Finn's lap.

A hard arm banded across her stomach, arresting her momentum instantly.

She was hauled back against a chest that felt like a steel plate. The bodyguard. Again.

This time, he didn't release her immediately. He held her there, his arm a solid bar across her midsection, her back pressed against him. She could feel the slow, powerful thud of his heart against her shoulder blades.

"She's not a dog," the bodyguard said.

The room went dead silent.

Clay looked affronted. "Excuse me? You're just the help. Speak when spoken to."

Finn, surprisingly, didn't reprimand his employee. He just smirked. "He gets protective of my property. Don't mind him."

The bodyguard leaned down. His lips brushed the shell of Alivia's ear.

"Breathe," he commanded. It was barely a sound, just a vibration of air. "They can't hurt you anymore."

Alivia looked up at him, her eyes wide behind her glasses. He wasn't looking at her. He was staring at Clay with a look of such concentrated malice that Alivia feared for her father's life.

"Right," Finn stood up, dusting off his suit. "We're done here. Grab your trash bag, sweetheart. We're leaving."

"Alivia," Brenda called out, her voice dripping with fake syrup. "Be a good wife. Don't embarrass us."

Alivia looked at the people who had raised her. The father who sold her. The stepmother who hated her. The sister who tormented her.

She felt the bodyguard's hand shift to the small of her back. A gentle, guiding pressure.

"Let's go," he said.

And for the first time in her life, Alivia obeyed a command without hesitation. Not because she was afraid, but because the man issuing it was the only thing standing between her and the abyss.

She walked out the front door, the cool autumn air hitting her face. She climbed into the back of the middle Escalade.

The bodyguard didn't get in the front. He climbed into the back seat, right next to her.

Finn took the jump seat opposite them.

As the heavy door slammed shut, sealing them in, Alivia pressed herself against the window, as far away from both men as possible.

She was trapped.

The convoy rolled out of the iron gates of the Clemons estate. As soon as they hit the main road, a mechanical whir filled the cabin. The privacy partition between the driver and the passenger compartment slid up, locking into place.

Silence descended.

Alivia watched, paralyzed, as the dynamic in the car shifted instantly.

The "husband," Finn, slumped in his seat, ripping off the leather gloves. "Jesus, Boss. That guy is a slimeball. I wanted to punch him."

"Boss?" Alivia whispered.

Next to her, the bodyguard moved.

He reached up and pulled the earpiece from his ear, letting it dangle. Then, he took off the aviator sunglasses.

Alivia stopped breathing.

Eyes. The bluest eyes she had ever seen. Like the center of a gas flame. They were framed by thick, dark lashes that made his gaze intense, almost predatory.

He wasn't just handsome. He was devastating.

He unbuttoned his tactical jacket, revealing a bespoke dress shirt underneath that strained against his shoulders.

Finn opened a mini-fridge and handed a bottle of Evian to the bodyguard. "Water, Gideon?"

Gideon.

Alivia's head snapped toward him. "You..."

Gideon Blackburn took a sip of water, his throat working. He turned those blue eyes on her. The intensity was physical, like a weight on her chest.

"You're not the bodyguard," she said, her voice trembling.

"No," he said. His voice was smooth now, the pain from the migraine gone, leaving only authority.

"And he..." She pointed at Finn.

"Finn Thomas. My COO," Gideon said calmly.

"But... the rumors. The monster. The bald..." Alivia gestured vaguely at Finn's receding hairline.

Finn chuckled. "Hey, I'm sensitive about the hair."

"Why?" Alivia demanded. Anger began to override her fear. "Why the lie?"

"Because I wanted to see who I was buying," Gideon said. He leaned forward, invading her personal space. "And I wanted to see if you were like them."

"And?"

"You're not."

The car slowed, turning into an underground garage in Tribeca. They bypassed the lobby, taking a private elevator that opened directly into a penthouse that spanned the entire 55th floor.

The view was staggering. Manhattan lay spread out below them like a bed of diamonds.

But Gideon didn't look at the view. He backed Alivia up until her legs hit the edge of a velvet sofa.

"Welcome home," he said.

"This is crazy," Alivia shook her head. "I can't... I don't know who you are."

"I told you last night," Gideon stepped closer. He reached out.

Alivia flinched, expecting a blow.

Gideon paused. His jaw tightened. "I will never hit you, Alivia. Do you understand?"

He reached out again, slower this time. His fingers hooked around the stems of her thick, black glasses.

"And you don't need to hide from me."

He pulled the glasses off her face and tossed them onto the sofa.

Alivia felt naked. Exposed. Without the frames, her face was open to him.

Gideon stared at her. His gaze dropped to her mouth, then back to her eyes.

"I am Gideon Blackburn," he said, his voice low and rough. "I am your husband. And in this house, there is only one rule."

He placed his hands on the sofa back, caging her in.

"Never lie to me."

Alivia looked up at him, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. This man was dangerous. More dangerous than the monster she had imagined, because the monster she could hate.

This man... this man she could want.

"I won't," she whispered.

"Good." Gideon pushed off the sofa. "Alfred will show you to your room. Dinner is at eight."

He turned and walked toward a set of double doors, his stride long and commanding.

Alivia let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, her knees finally giving way as she sank onto the velvet cushions.

The bathtub was carved from a single piece of black marble. It was deep enough to drown in.

Alivia sank until the water lapped at her chin. The heat soaked into her bones, but it couldn't melt the knot of tension in her stomach.

She raised her hand, staring at the water dripping from her fingers. No bruises. No marks.

She climbed out, wrapping herself in a towel that was softer than anything she had ever owned. On the vanity, a set of silk pajamas lay folded. Pearl white. Her size.

She dressed quickly and hurried into the bedroom, diving under the duvet. She fumbled for her phone and dialed Arianna.

"Liv!" Arianna's face filled the screen. "Oh my god, are you okay? Blink twice if you need a SWAT team."

"I'm... I'm okay," Alivia whispered, pulling the blanket over her head. "Ari, you won't believe it."

"Did he hurt you? Is he hideous?"

"No. He's... he's gorgeous."

Arianna's jaw dropped. "What? Are you suffering from Stockholm Syndrome already?"

"I'm serious. He's young. He looks like... like a god, Ari. It was all a lie. The rumors, everything."

"Wait, so you're telling me you're married to a hot billionaire who lives in a penthouse?"

"It's not that simple. He's terrifying. He looks at me like he's trying to solve a puzzle."

Suddenly, a soft chime sounded from a sleek intercom panel on the wall near her door. Alivia jumped, nearly dropping her phone.

Gideon's voice, calm and clear, filled the room. "Finish your call."

Alivia scrambled to sit up, her heart pounding. How did he know? "My... my friend. Arianna."

"I know," the voice from the intercom replied, a hint of impatience in it. "Come to the study when you are done. Now."

The intercom went silent.

Alivia grabbed the phone and whispered, "I have to go," before hanging up on a stunned Arianna.

She walked barefoot down the hallway. The floor was heated. Everything in this house was designed for comfort, yet it felt like a fortress.

The study doors were heavy oak. She pushed them open.

Gideon was sitting behind a desk that looked like it belonged in the Oval Office. He was still wearing his white dress shirt, top button undone, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms.

He didn't look up from his tablet. He slid a black metal card across the mahogany surface.

It spun and stopped right at the edge, in front of her.

"Take it."

Alivia looked at the card. An American Express Centurion. The Black Card.

"I don't need money," she said. "I have my allowance from-"

"Your father cut you off the moment you signed the contract," Gideon said flatly. "And you are a Blackburn now. My wife does not count pennies."

"I can't accept this. It's too much."

Gideon finally looked up. His eyes were cold. "It's not a request. It's a requirement. You need clothes. You need books. You need to exist in this city without looking like a refugee."

Alivia flinched at the word.

Gideon stood up. He walked around the desk.

"And one more thing." He stopped in front of her. "Stop calling me 'Mr. Blackburn' in your head."

"I didn't say it out loud."

"I can hear it in your hesitation." He reached out, tucking a stray lock of damp hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her jaw. "Call me Husband."

Alivia's face burned. "I... I can't."

"Try."

His thumb brushed her lower lip. The sensation was maddening.

"Husband," she squeaked.

Gideon's eyes darkened. A flash of satisfaction crossed his face.

"Better," he murmured. "Go to sleep. You have school tomorrow."

He turned his back on her, dismissing her as easily as he had summoned her.

Alivia grabbed the card and fled the room, her heart racing so fast she thought it might explode.