"A... wife?"
The word hung in the silent air of the suite, heavy and absurd. Elena stared at Julian, searching for a flicker of mockery in his grey eyes. There was none. There was only that dark, bottomless hunger that made her skin prickle with heat.
"You need money," Julian said, his voice smooth, devoid of the jagged edge it held a moment ago. He stepped back, the loss of his body heat leaving her shivering in the air-conditioned room. "And I need a spouse. My board of directors is... old fashioned. They believe a family man is a stable man. I need to secure a merger by the end of the month, and a wedding ring is the final requirement."
He walked over to a sleek black desk near the window, the city skyline sprawling behind him like a glittering kingdom he owned. He opened a drawer and pulled out a thick folder.
"It's already drawn up," he said, tossing the file onto the glass coffee table between them. It landed with a heavy thud that echoed like a gavel stroke.
Elena looked at the folder, then back at him. "You knew I was coming."
"I know everything that happens in this city, Elena. especially when the daughter of my greatest rival starts visiting loan sharks."
He loosened his tie, the silk sliding through his fingers with a serpentine hiss. "Five million dollars transfers to your account the moment the ink is dry. Your brother walks free. Your family home is saved."
Elena's heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. It was everything she needed. It was salvation.
But looking at Julian—at the predatory way he stood, leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching her like a wolf watching a lamb—she knew the cost would be far higher than five million.
"And the terms?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Simple." Julian pushed off the desk and stalked toward her again. The air grew thin. "One year. You play the part of the devoted wife in public. You smile. You host. You wear my ring."
"And in private?"
Julian stopped. He was close enough now that she could see the flecks of silver in his iris.
"In private," he murmured, his gaze dropping to the pulse fluttering wildly at the base of her throat, "you belong to me."
He didn't touch her, but he might as well have. His eyes traced the curve of her body, lingering on her breasts, her waist, her hips. Elena felt a flush rise up her neck, her nipples hardening against the lace of her bra under his scrutiny. It was humiliating. It was electrifying.
"Clause 4," Julian said softly. "Conjugal duties are mandatory. I don't sleep in a cold bed, Elena. And I don't share."
He reached out, his hand wrapping around her upper arm. His grip was firm, possessing. He pulled her gently but inexorably toward the table.
"Sign it."
Elena looked down at the paper. The words swam before her eyes. Marriage Contract. Julian Kincaid. Elena Vane.
If she signed this, she was selling her body to a man rumored to have ice in his veins. A man who destroyed companies for sport.
But Leo needs you.
With a trembling hand, she reached for the gold fountain pen lying on the table. The metal was cold against her sweating palm.
Julian moved behind her.
She froze. She could feel the solid wall of his chest against her back. He was surrounding her, his presence a suffocating, masculine cloud of sandalwood and musk. He placed one hand on the table, right next to the contract, boxing her in.
"Hesitation is expensive, Elena," he whispered, his lips brushing the sensitive skin below her ear.
A violent shiver racked her body. His breath was hot, moist, and dangerously inviting. A deep, liquid heat pooled in her lower belly, a heavy ache that made her thighs clench involuntarily.
"I..." She choked on the word.
"Do it," he commanded, a low growl vibrating against her spine. "Give yourself to me."
Elena squeezed her eyes shut. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff. She took a breath, opened her eyes, and pressed the pen to the paper.
She signed.
The scratch of the pen sounded loud in the room. She dropped the pen, breathless, feeling as if she had just signed away her soul.
"Done," she whispered.
"Good."
Julian didn't move away. Instead, he turned her around, pinning her between his hard body and the edge of the table.
"Now," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, husky pitch. "We seal the deal."
Before she could react, his hand tangled into her hair, tilting her head back. He didn't ask. He didn't hesitate.
He crushed his mouth to hers.
It wasn't a kiss; it was a conquest. His lips were demanding, hot and firm, molding hers to his will. Elena gasped, and he used the opportunity to invade, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her.
It was overwhelming. He tasted of scotch and dark desire. Elena's hands flew up to push him away, but instead, they clutched the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer. Her brain screamed danger, but her body was melting, dissolving into the sheer power of him.
He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her lips, and ground his hips against hers. Through the layers of clothing, she felt the hard ridge of his arousal. He was already hard. For her.
The realization sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core.
Julian broke the kiss abruptly, leaving her gasping, her lips swollen and wet. He looked down at her, his eyes wild, his chest heaving.
"Pack your bags, Mrs. Kincaid," he rasped, wiping a smudge of her lipstick from his mouth with his thumb. "Tonight, you move into my penthouse. And tonight..."
He leaned in, his voice a dark promise that made her knees buckle.
"...we test that bedroom clause."