Chapter 6

Mr. Shepherd and his assistants bowed and left, leaving the penthouse in absolute silence once again.

Krista walked over to the racks of clothing. Her fingertips brushed against the heavy silk and intricate hand-embroidery.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of new fabric. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, the vulnerability was gone. Her gaze hardened into cold, clear glass.

She pulled a minimalist, deep burgundy silk gown off the rack. She walked into the bathroom and let the bathrobe drop to the floor.

She pulled the dress up and zipped it. She looked in the mirror. It fit her body flawlessly, hugging every curve as if it had been tailored to her exact measurements.

She sat at the vanity and opened the expensive makeup. She applied a sharp, flawless look, using dark eyeliner and a bold red lip to mask the exhaustion in her face.

When she stood up, the broken girl from the rainstorm was gone. The queen of the Upper East Side was back.

Hours ticked by. The orange glow of the setting sun spilled across the oak floors.

At exactly 6:00 PM, the electronic lock on the front door beeped.

Jasper pushed the door open. He brought the freezing, cutthroat energy of Wall Street into the room with him.

He reached up to loosen his tie, his eyes lifting. He froze.

Krista sat on the center sofa. The burgundy silk draped over her legs. Her makeup was lethal. She looked like a goddess of war.

Jasper's lungs stopped working. A violent surge of pure obsession and possessiveness ripped through his chest.

He forced his jaw tight, burying the reaction in a fraction of a second. His eyes returned to their dead, cold state as he walked into the living room.

"I see you've made your decision," Jasper said. He sat down on the single armchair opposite her, crossing his long legs, claiming absolute authority over the space.

Krista stood up. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor as she walked over to the marble coffee table.

She slid the prenup across the smooth stone. Her signature was at the bottom.

"I agree to your terms, Mr. Stone," she said, her voice perfectly steady.

Jasper glanced at the signature. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a microscopic smirk.

"But before we make this official, I need to know one thing," Krista said, keeping her chin high.

Jasper raised his hand, gesturing for her to speak, looking like he was negotiating a billion-dollar merger.

"Why me?" Krista asked, her voice tight. She let out a dry laugh. "I am the laughing stock of the Upper East Side. A fake with dirty blood."

"You said you needed a shield. But marrying me will only bring the Stone family endless gossip and scandal."

Jasper looked at the deep-seated insecurity hiding behind her sharp eyeliner. A physical pain twisted in his gut.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, instantly closing the physical distance and suffocating her with his presence.

"Do you really think," Jasper asked, his voice dripping with absolute arrogance, "that I, Jasper Stone, need a wife's pedigree to secure my power?"

Krista's breath hitched. She was completely paralyzed by his confidence.

"As for the gossip..." Jasper sneered. "In the face of absolute power, no one in New York will dare breathe a word about my wife in my presence."

His dark eyes locked onto hers, burning with an intensity that made her skin flush.

"You only need to know one thing," he commanded. "I chose you because I want you."