Adelia forced her legs to move. She smoothed down her dress, wiped the stray tear from her cheek, and walked back into the banquet hall on unsteady feet. Her fingers were ice cold, and she pressed them against her sides to stop them from shaking.

The moment she stepped through the doors, the atmosphere shifted. The crowd had parted, forming a path toward the raised stage at the far end of the room. A single spotlight cut through the dim lighting, illuminating the center of the stage.

Kain stood there, his hand clasped firmly around Baylee Lawrence's. Baylee was radiant in a gown of shimmering silver, her blonde hair swept up in an elegant twist. Her smile was perfect, practiced, and utterly triumphant.

On her left hand, the diamond caught the light. It was massive, a glittering rock that screamed old money and new promises.

Augustus McMahon, the family patriarch, stepped up to the microphone. "It is my great honor," he boomed, his voice thick with pride, "to announce the engagement of my grandson, Kain, to the lovely Baylee Lawrence."

The room erupted. Guests rose to their feet, applause thundering through the space. Flashbulbs went off like strobe lights, capturing the perfect couple, the perfect moment.

Adelia stood frozen in the corner. Her heart felt like it had been hit by a sledgehammer, but not with grief. With relief.

A wave of lightness washed over her, so intense it made her dizzy. She looked at the couple on stage-Kain, tall and handsome in his tuxedo; Baylee, beautiful and beaming. They looked like a magazine cover. They looked like a future.

Which meant her nightmare was over.

Kain was engaged. He was going to marry a woman of his own class, a woman his family approved of. That meant this-whatever this twisted thing between them was-had to end. No more secret meetings. No more threats. No more being dragged into dark corridors.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. A bitter smile touched her lips. She was free.

As the final speeches wrapped up and the crowd began to disperse, Adelia made her move. She didn't look toward the stage. She didn't wait for the congratulations or the toasts. She walked straight for the exit.

She wasn't going to the penthouse. Not tonight. Not ever again.

She pushed through the revolving doors and stepped out into the cool autumn night. The air smelled of exhaust fumes and roasted nuts from a nearby cart. It was the smell of the city, the smell of freedom.

She hurried to the curb, raising her hand to the doorman. "Taxi, please."

"Right away, ma'am."

She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see Kain looming in the doorway. But the entrance was clear. She was going to make it. She was going to get in that cab, go back to her apartment, and never look back.

A black Cadillac Escalade glided silently to the curb, cutting off the taxi that had been pulling over. The tinted rear window rolled down with a soft hum.

The face of Kain's head of security stared back at her. His expression was blank, polite, and utterly immovable.

"Miss Davidson," he said. "Please get in."

Adelia took a step back, her heart leaping into her throat. "No. I'm taking a cab."

The security door opened, and a large man stepped out. He didn't touch her, but he positioned himself between her and the waiting taxi, his bulk blocking her path. His movements were efficient, trained.

People on the sidewalk were starting to stare. A couple in evening wear whispered to each other, their eyes darting between Adelia and the SUV. The last thing she needed was a scene. The last thing she needed was for someone to recognize her, to start asking questions.

She bit her lip so hard she tasted copper. She had no choice.

She reached for the handle of the Escalade's rear door and yanked it open. The interior was dark, lit only by the glow of the city lights filtering through the tinted glass.

Kain sat in the far corner, his long legs stretched out. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone. He held a folder open on his lap, his eyes scanning the documents inside.

He didn't look up. He didn't even blink.

Adelia slid into the seat beside him. The door slammed shut behind her, and the heavy thunk of the automatic locks engaging echoed in the silence. They were sealed in.

The car pulled away from the curb, merging seamlessly into the Manhattan traffic. The noise of the city-the honking horns, the wailing sirens-faded to a distant hum, cut off by the thick glass and armored doors.

Adelia stared straight ahead, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. The brief flicker of hope she had felt was gone, extinguished like a candle in a hurricane. That fleeting illusion of freedom, the desperate belief that his engagement meant an end to her nightmare, was crushed instantly by the iron band of his arm.

"Why aren't you with your fiancée?" she asked, her voice tight.

Kain finally moved. He closed the folder and set it aside. Then he turned his head, his cold blue eyes sweeping over her face, taking in her rigid posture, her clenched jaw.

"And what did you think?" he countered, his voice low and mocking. "That an engagement changes something?"

Adelia shivered. There was no guilt in his tone. No hesitation. Just the same cold certainty that always made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff.

He reached out. His hand closed around her arm, his grip unbreakable. He pulled her across the leather seat, dragging her until she was pressed against his side. He forced her head down onto his shoulder, his arm wrapping around her like a shackle.

It wasn't an embrace. It was a reclamation. It was the way a man handles an object that belongs to him.

"The rules haven't changed," he murmured into her hair. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble. "You're still mine."

Adelia shoved against Kain's shoulder with all her strength. Her palms pushed into the hard muscle beneath his suit jacket, desperate to put even an inch of space between them.

"I'm ending this," she declared, her voice louder than she intended, fueled by a surge of adrenaline. "Tonight. Do you hear me? It's over."

Kain didn't move. He simply leaned back against the seat, his eyes half-closed, watching her struggle with an expression of mild amusement. He looked like a man watching a kitten batting at a ball of yarn.

"Are you?" he drawled. "Because from where I was standing, your eyes were on me all night."

The words hit their mark. Heat flooded Adelia's cheeks. She had been watching him. She couldn't help it. It was like staring at a car crash-you knew you shouldn't look, but you couldn't tear your eyes away.

"That was disgust," she snapped, the lie tasting sour on her tongue.

Kain's smile widened. He reached out, his hand moving with that deceptive laziness that always preceded violence. His fingers found the side of her neck, sliding slowly down from her ear to her collarbone.

He knew exactly where to touch. His fingertips traced a path along her sensitive skin, pressing lightly against the spot just below her ear that made her breath catch.

Adelia stiffened. She tried to pull away, but her body betrayed her. A shiver ran down her spine, and she held her breath, fighting the wave of heat that threatened to consume her.

Suddenly, a delivery bike shot out from a side street. The driver laid on the horn, the sound cutting through the quiet of the car.

The chauffeur slammed on the brakes. The massive vehicle lurched to a stop, the tires squealing against the asphalt.

The force of the stop threw Adelia forward. She lost her balance, her hands slipping from Kain's chest. She pitched forward, straight into his lap.

Her hands landed flat on his chest, her fingers splaying over the fine wool of his suit. Her legs tangled with his, her knees pressing into the leather seat on either side of his hips.

Kain's arms came up instantly. He wrapped them around her waist, locking her in place. He turned the accident into an embrace, pulling her tight against his body so that every inch of her was pressed against every inch of him.

In the darkness of the car, their breath mingled. The air between them crackled, the temperature skyrocketing. Adelia could feel the hard thud of his heart beneath her palm, or maybe that was her own heart, beating so fast it made her head spin.

She scrambled to sit up, panic clawing at her throat. "Let me go-"

His arms tightened like iron bands. He held her fast, refusing to let her retreat even an inch. He lowered his head, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

"Your body," he whispered, his voice a low, sandpaper rasp, "is a lot more honest than your mouth."

Shame and anger burned in Adelia's chest, hot and acidic. Her eyes stung with tears she refused to shed. She pounded her fists against his chest, hitting him as hard as she could.

"Let me go!" she cried.

Kain didn't loosen his grip. If anything, he pulled her closer. One hand released her waist to grip her chin, forcing her face up to his.

He didn't hesitate. He crushed his mouth down on hers.

It wasn't a kiss. It was a punishment. It was a brand. His lips were hard and demanding, taking everything and giving nothing. He bit down on her lower lip, not gently, and the sharp taste of copper filled her mouth.

Adelia struggled, her hands pushing against his chest, her head trying to turn away. But his hand held her jaw in a vise, and his body was an immovable wall. She was trapped, overwhelmed by the scent of him, the taste of him, the sheer force of his will.

The car began to move again, picking up speed. Behind the partition, the driver silently pressed a button. The privacy screen slid up, sealing the back seat into a soundproof cocoon.

Kain broke the kiss. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his chest heaving, his eyes dark with a hunger that terrified her.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice cold and sharp. "As long as I don't let go, You will always be mine."

His thumb stroked her bruised lip, a gesture that was almost tender if not for the steel in his eyes.

"Dead or alive," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Someone else's wife or mine. You. Are. Mine."

Adelia slumped against the seat, the fight draining out of her. The tears she had been holding back finally spilled over, tracking silently down her cheeks.

She stared at the privacy screen, at the dark glass that separated her from the rest of the world. She was in a glass box, speeding through the city, completely alone with a man who owned her body and soul.

Running was impossible. Fighting was useless.

She was never going to escape.

The car ride that night left a filthy brand, searing every passing minute that followed. When the summons to the Hamptons arrived-or rather, the command-Adelia knew she wasn't even granted the right to hide away and lick her wounds. The Hamptons weekend arrived with a deceptive tranquility. The ocean breeze carried the scent of salt and blooming hydrangeas, and the McMahon estate was buzzing with activity. White tents dotted the manicured lawn, and waiters in crisp uniforms wove through the crowd with silver trays.

Adelia stepped out of the black town car, her knees unsteady. The driver had been insistent-Kain's orders-and she hadn't had the strength to argue. She wore a simple gray dress, the neckline high, the hemline long. She wanted to disappear.

The butler led her across the stone patio toward the lawn. As she stepped onto the grass, the conversation seemed to ripple and then still. Heads turned. Eyes followed her.

She kept her gaze down, focusing on the perfectly manicured grass beneath her feet.

Baylee Lawrence stood at the center of a cluster of socialites, her arm looped through Kain's. She was stunning in a flowing white sundress, her engagement ring catching the afternoon sun like a beacon.

When she saw Adelia, Baylee's smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Then it widened, becoming even more brilliant, even more perfect.

"Adelia!" Baylee called out, her voice dripping with synthetic warmth. She detached herself from Kain and glided across the lawn. "Darling, I'm so glad you could make it. You've been hiding away for too long."

Adelia forced her lips into a stiff line. "Thank you for having me."

"It must be so hard for you," Baylee said, reaching out to pat Adelia's arm. Her touch was light, but her eyes were sharp. "Being a widow and all. You really should get out more. It's not healthy to mope."

Adelia's stomach churned. She wanted to slap the perfect smile right off the other woman's face. Instead, she took a slow breath. "I'll keep that in mind."

Kain stood a few feet away, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He watched the exchange with a blank expression, offering no help, no defense. But Adelia could feel his gaze on her, a physical weight that pressed against her skin, hot and demanding.

Dinner was announced, and the guests moved toward the long tables set up under the tents. Adelia found her place card at the far end of the table, as far from the head as possible. She was exiled to the Siberia of the McMahon social hierarchy.

Baylee took her seat at Kain's right hand. She leaned in close, whispering something in his ear, her fingers brushing his shoulder as she poured him more wine.

Adelia picked up her knife and fork. She cut into her steak, the motion mechanical. She didn't taste the food. It was like eating cardboard. Her stomach was in knots, a tight ball of anxiety that made it hard to swallow.

At the head of the table, the family elders began to question Baylee about the wedding plans. Baylee lapped up the attention, detailing the venue, the florist, the guest list. Every few minutes, she would glance down the table at Adelia, a small, satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

A sharp pain lanced through Adelia's abdomen. She dropped her knife and fork, the silverware clattering against the porcelain.

"Excuse me," she murmured, pushing her chair back. She didn't wait for a response. She hurried away from the table, her heels clicking on the stone pathway.

She found the bathroom inside the house and splashed cold water on her face. She looked at herself in the mirror-pale, drawn, exhausted. She looked like a ghost.

She took a deep breath and stepped back into the hallway. She collided with a solid chest.

"Whoa, there," a male voice said. It was one of the distant McMahon cousins, a man with a leer that made her skin crawl. "Running away, little widow? Jealous of the new queen bee?"

Adelia stepped back, her eyes flashing. "Excuse me."

She tried to walk around him, but he shifted his weight, blocking her path. "Come on, don't be like that. I could show you a good time. Take your mind off things."

"Back off," she said, her voice cold. She pushed past him, her shoulder knocking his as she strode down the hall.

She was halfway to the door when a hand shot out, grabbing her arm. She was yanked sideways, pulled through a doorway into a dimly lit parlor.

The door slammed shut behind her. Kain stood between her and the exit, his chest heaving, his eyes blazing.

"Were you just flirting with him?" he demanded, his voice a low growl.

Adelia stared at him in disbelief. "Are you serious? He cornered me."

Kain closed the distance between them in two strides. He backed her up against the wall, his hand reaching up to grip the back of her neck. His fingers dug into her skin, holding her in place.

"I told you," he said, his face inches from hers, "not to draw attention to yourself."

His eyes were wild, a dark, possessive fire burning in their depths. He looked like a man who had been pushed to the edge.

"Kain-" she started.

"Shut up," he snapped. "You are mine. You don't talk to them. You don't look at them."

From the hallway, Baylee's voice drifted through the closed door. "Kain? Are you in here? The guests are asking for you."

Kain's grip on her neck tightened for a second. Then, just as quickly, he released her. He stepped back, his expression smoothing over, the mask of the civilized heir sliding back into place.

He adjusted his collar, shot her one last warning glare, and opened the door.

"Right here," he said to Baylee, his voice perfectly calm. "Just checking on a draft."

He walked out, leaving Adelia alone in the dark room. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath.

She was trapped. And the storm was only getting started.