Chapter 3

Hours later, the penthouse was still silent. Carolyn sat on the white leather sofa in the living room, a thick stack of papers spread across the glass coffee table in front of her. The cohabitation agreement.

Her fingers, still trembling slightly, traced the cold, typed words. Clause 7: The party of the second part (Carolyn Lindsey) shall not interfere with the social engagements of the party of the first part (Chandler Finch). Clause 12: The party of the second part must be available upon request, at all times.

It was a contract for a possession, not a person. But it was better than the damp basement she'd been locked in before. It was a start.

The soft chime of the elevator announced his return. Carolyn's heart gave a nervous flutter. She looked up as Chandler strode into the living room. He carried the faint, cloying scent of a hospital-disinfectant mixed with Eugenia's signature gardenia perfume.

His steps faltered when he saw her. He had clearly expected to come home to a scene of destruction. Instead, he found her sitting quietly, bathed in the soft light of a lamp, reading the very document that defined her captivity.

Carolyn raised her head. Her eyes were calm, devoid of the fire he was used to. She didn't ask where he'd been. She didn't scream about Eugenia. She simply stood up.

"I'll sign it."

She picked up the heavy fountain pen from the table. On the final page, below his arrogant, slashing signature, she wrote her own. The strokes were neat, deliberate, and final.

He crossed the room in three long strides and plucked the pen from her fingers. His eyes scanned her face, searching, probing. "So compliant all of a sudden? What's your new angle, Carolyn?"

She let out a small, bitter laugh, dropping her gaze to the floor. "What's the point of having an angle anymore? You wanted a dog on a leash. Fine. I'll be your dog."

The words hung in the air between them. A muscle in his jaw twitched. He hated that. He hated her defeated compliance more than her fiery resistance. It made him feel exactly like the monster she was accusing him of being.

"You'd better mean that," he sneered, turning away from her. He walked toward the open-plan kitchen to get a glass of water, his shoulders tense.

Carolyn's pulse quickened. Her heart leaped into her throat. Earlier that afternoon, she had glimpsed Temperance, Eugenia's ever-watchful personal maid, slipping through the hallway with a small paper bag. The woman was quiet, obedient, and served her mistress's whims without question. Temperance should have planted it by now. Would he see it? Her gaze couldn't help but dart toward the kitchen trash can.

Chandler stopped dead by the stainless-steel trash can. His entire body went rigid. His gaze was fixed on something inside it.

It was a small, torn cardboard box from a pack of birth control pills. A few of the tiny white tablets had spilled out, stark against the dark trash.

The temperature in the room plummeted.

He turned his head slowly, his eyes locking onto hers. They were no longer cold; they were burning with a terrifying, possessive rage.

"What," he began, his voice a low, guttural growl, "is this?"

Carolyn feigned a look of panic. It wasn't hard. The memory of his rage was real enough. This was Eugenia's work, she knew. Her maid, Temperance, must have planted it, a perfect little trap.

"I... that was from before..." she stammered, playing the part of a woman caught in a lie. Her fumbled excuse was all the confirmation he needed.

He stalked toward her, closing the distance in an instant. His hand shot out and clamped around her jaw, forcing her head back. "Whose baby are you trying to have? Vince Kowalski's?"

The name Vince, his business rival and her supposed lover, was the match to the gasoline. The jealousy in his eyes was a raw, wild thing. It was terrifying. It was magnificent.

Tears, real and hot, welled in her eyes. She shook her head frantically. "No! I'm not trying to have anyone's baby!"

"Then you're trying to use a pregnancy to get away from me?" His fingers tightened, his expression murderous. "Dream on."

He released her so abruptly she stumbled. He spun around and kicked a nearby dining chair, sending it crashing against the wall. The sound exploded in the silent apartment.

Carolyn flinched, but her eyes remained fixed on him. This was her chance. She had to use his fury.

He stormed to the trash can and, without a shred of hesitation, plunged his hand inside. He came out with a fistful of the small white pills.

He squeezed his hand shut, his knuckles white. The pills turned to dust, a fine white powder sifting through his fingers and onto the pristine floor.

"As long as you are mine, you will not have anyone's child," he bit out, his voice thick with a chilling possessiveness. "Unless it's mine."

Carolyn watched the powder settle. A cold, triumphant smile touched her heart, but not her lips. Checkmate, Eugenia.

She moved toward him, her steps silent. She came up behind his stiff, furious form and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek between his shoulder blades.

He flinched as if electrocuted, his whole body tensing to throw her off. But she held on tight.

"Then you've destroyed the pills," she whispered, her voice a soft, seductive murmur against his back. "So I won't take them anymore. Okay?"