Chapter 3

The Maybach glided out of the parking garage and merged seamlessly into the chaotic Manhattan traffic. Inside the cabin, a thick, soundproof partition rolled up, completely separating the rear seats from the driver and L. Thorne.

Eleanore curled her knees to her chest, pressing herself into the far corner of the leather seat. The drug was making her skin feel too tight, her blood too hot. She tugged at the collar of Alexander's oversized suit jacket, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Alexander reached into the built-in console cooler. He pulled out a bottle of chilled water, twisted the cap off with one hand, and held it out to her.

Eleanore took it with shaking hands. She brought it to her lips and drank greedily. A drop of water escaped the corner of her mouth, sliding down her pale neck and disappearing into the dark fabric of the jacket.

Alexander's eyes tracked the drop of water. His Adam's apple bobbed once, a sharp, rigid movement.

The ice water shocked her system, bringing a small sliver of clarity back to her brain.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice raspy.

Alexander leaned back against the seat. He crossed one long leg over the other, resting his hands on his knee. He looked at her with the cold, calculating gaze of a man evaluating an asset.

"Marriage," he said.

The word dropped into the quiet car like a bomb.

Eleanore let out a weak, incredulous laugh. "You're insane. You're Alexander Briggs. Why would you marry a bankrupt pariah?"

Alexander leaned forward, his massive frame invading her personal space. The scent of cedar and expensive tobacco wrapped around her.

"Because Johan Conway wants you," Alexander said, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "And I want to break him."

He reached over and tapped a button on the armrest. A small screen slid out from the console, displaying a complex web of corporate ownership structures.

"I am currently executing a hostile takeover of Conway Group," Alexander explained, his tone completely devoid of emotion. "Johan's position on the board is fragile. If I take the woman he is publicly obsessed with, he will lose his mind. He will make mistakes. And I will gut his company."

Eleanore stared at the glowing screen. A cold shiver ran down her spine. He was using her as a weapon. It was ruthless. It was cruel.

The Maybach slowed down, descending into the private underground garage of the Briggs Tower. The car stopped.

Alexander opened the door and stepped out. He didn't wait for Thorne. He walked around to her side and opened her door, offering his hand. It looked like a gentlemanly gesture, but the hard set of his jaw made it clear it was an order.

She took his hand. His palm was hot and calloused.L. Thorne got to the office ahead of time.

He led her to a private executive elevator that shot them straight to the top floor. The doors opened to a massive, glass-walled office that overlooked the glittering skyline of New York City.

L. Thorne was already standing by the massive oak desk. He placed a thick, leather-bound folder on the surface and stepped back.

Alexander unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down behind the desk. He gestured toward the folder with his chin. "Read it."

Eleanore walked on unsteady legs toward the desk. She opened the folder.

Prenuptial Agreement and Three-Month Partnership Terms.

She scanned the pages, her eyes widening at the clinical precision of the clauses.

"Three months," Alexander stated, watching her face intently. "You will live with me. You will act the part of a devoted wife in public. In ninety days, we file for a quiet divorce."

Eleanore gripped the edge of the desk. "And what do I get?"

"I pay off the remaining three million dollars of your father's debt tomorrow morning," Alexander said smoothly. "And I build a wall around you that Johan Conway can never cross."

The offer was staggering. Three months of playing pretend, and she would be entirely free. No debt. No Johan.

Her fingers trembled as she traced the edge of the paper. "What if Johan tries to force his way to me? He's violent."

Alexander pulled a silver lighter and a cigar from his desk drawer. He lit it, taking a slow drag. The thick smoke curled around his face, masking the sudden, terrifying darkness in his eyes.

"As long as you carry the name Briggs," Alexander said, his voice dropping an octave, "no one on this earth will dare touch a single hair on your head."

Eleanore's heart gave a violent thump. For three years, she had lived in constant fear of Johan's temper. The absolute, terrifying protection Alexander offered was the most intoxicating thing she had ever heard.

She picked up the heavy Montblanc pen resting beside the document. She thought of Johan's twisted face in the hotel room.

She didn't read the rest of the fine print. She pressed the pen to the paper and signed her name.

Alexander watched the ink flow from the pen. A muscle in his jaw twitched. A flash of something wild and triumphant crossed his eyes, gone so fast Eleanore thought she imagined it.

He stood up, took his copy of the agreement, and locked it inside a steel wall safe. The heavy metal door slammed shut with a final, echoing thud.

He walked back to the desk and picked up her signed copy. He ran his thumb slowly over her signature.

"Deal," Alexander said. He looked over at Thorne. "Have the car brought back around."

Eleanore frowned, confusion cutting through her exhaustion. "Where are we going at this hour?"

Alexander's lips curved into a sharp, predatory smile. "To get you your freedom, Eleanore. We're going to City Hall."