Chapter 5 No.5

Clara stood in the sterile hallway of the hospital, watching through the glass as doctors swarmed around her mother. The machines beeped in a chaotic rhythm.

She needed the money. She needed to sign.

But first, she had a massive problem.

The Vanguard contract. The original copy with the wet signatures-the only copy that was legally binding for the merger-was missing. She had taken it home to proofread two nights ago.

She retraced her steps. The party. The hotel.

She must have left the file folder in Suite 1501.

If that contract was lost or leaked, the deal would collapse. Sterling Group would lose millions. Clara would be fired, sued, and possibly jailed for corporate negligence.

She couldn't call him. She had to go there.

She took a cab to the address listed on the company directory for Sebastian's private residence. It wasn't an apartment. It was an estate in the Hamptons. He had flown there by helicopter after work; she had to take a three-hour train ride and a cab.

It was raining when she arrived. The gate was massive, iron, and intimidating.

She pressed the buzzer. "Clara Miller. I... I left something."

The gate clicked open instantly.

She walked up the long driveway, soaked to the bone. The front door opened before she reached it. A butler ushered her into a library that smelled of old paper and scotch.

Sebastian was there. He was wearing a silk robe, deep navy, tied loosely at the waist. He held a glass of amber liquid in one hand and a blue folder in the other.

The Vanguard contract.

"Breaking and entering?" he asked, swirling his drink.

"I didn't break in. You let me in," Clara shivered. "That's company property. I need it."

"This?" He tapped the folder against his leg. "This is evidence of gross incompetence. You left confidential merger documents in a hotel room."

"I was distracted!"

"By what? My sheets?"

Clara flushed. "Please. Give it to me."

"Sign the marriage agreement," he said calmly. "And I'll forget this ever happened."

"I can't," Clara blurted out. Panic made her irrational. She couldn't be bought. She couldn't be the substitute. "I have a boyfriend."

The room temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.

Sebastian set the glass down. The sound echoed in the large room.

"A boyfriend," he repeated. His voice was dangerously soft.

"Yes," Clara lied, her heart hammering. "He... he teaches at a community college. Mark. His name is Mark. We're very happy. He wouldn't like this."

Sebastian moved. He was across the room in two strides. He grabbed her by the waist and slammed her back against the heavy oak desk.

"Mark?" He leaned in, his nose brushing hers. "Does Mark touch you?"

"Yes," Clara squeaked.

"Does he know you moan when your neck is kissed?"

Clara gasped.

"Liar," Sebastian hissed.

He crushed his mouth to hers. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a claiming. He bit her lower lip, forcing her mouth open, his tongue sweeping inside with an arrogance that made her knees buckle. He tasted of whiskey and rage.

Clara tried to push him away, but her hands just curled into the silk of his robe. Her body betrayed her; she melted against him.

He pulled back abruptly, breathing hard. His eyes were wild.

"Your body doesn't seem to remember Mark," he sneered.

He opened the desk drawer and pulled out a check. He slammed it into her hand.

"One million dollars," he said. "Take it. Pay for your mother. And get out."

Clara looked at the check. It was heavy in her hand.

"But the contract..."

"The contract stays," he said. "And if you don't sign the marriage papers by tomorrow, your Mark is going to find himself very unlucky."