He didn't look at me like a man who once loved me.
He looked at me like a wolf who'd finally finally found the sheep that got away.
And I hated the fact it made my pulse quicken.
"I didn't come here to remember the past," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
"No?" His eyes glittered, sharp as broken glass. "Funny, because that's all I've been doing since you texted me. High school. You laughing in my face. You saying I'd never be good enough for you, and your family ruining mine.
I swallowed hard. My mouth was dry, but I forced the words out. "I was stupid."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His voice dropped low, intimate, but cutting. "No. You were being honest. That's the difference between you and me—I never lied about what I wanted."
Heat crawled up my throat. He was right, damn him. He asked me out once, honest and brave. And I turned him into a joke. And still, he dated my best friend afterward, like a knife in my back.
I lifted my chin, summoning every shred of pride I had left. "This isn't about the past. I need your help."
That pulled a laugh from him. Low, dark, and far too amused. "My help. Christ." He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "The little heiress finally admits she needs something from the poor kid she humiliated. Do you realizeev how sweet this moment is for me?"
His words burned, but I didn't flinch. "Laugh all you want. You think I'd be here if I had any other option?"
His gaze sharpened, the amusement fading. "Then tell me why you're really here."
The words tasted like blood as they left me. "I need a husband."
The silence afterwards was heavy.
His brow lifted, and for the first time tonight, his lips curved into something that might've abeen a smile, but it wasn't kind. "A husband," he repeated slowly, savoring the word like it was a weapon. "And you thought of me."
My nails dug into the leather seat beneath the table. "I don't have time to explain everything. My father...."
"Ah." He leaned back, satisfaction flickering across his face. "Daddy's pulling the strings again. Let me guess….marry rich or get cut out of the will?"
The air stuck in my throat. He'd hit the mark without hesitation.
"I don't care what you think of me," I whispered. "I don't care if you hate me. But I need this. And you…" My voice cracked, and I swallowed it down. "You're the only one I know who could stand up to them."
For a moment, he just stared. His eyes dragged over me, not like a lover but like a man calculating the value of something expensive but flawed.
Finally, he spoke. "You're asking me to marry you, Raine."
The words hung between us, searing into my skin.
"Yes."
He tilted his head, studying me like he could peel me open and see everything I was hiding. "Do you realize what you're offering me, princess?"
"I'm not offering you anything and don't call me princess anymore."
"Don't lie to me." His voice cut sharp, cold. "You're desperate. That means you'll agree to anything I want. And I want everything."
My chest tightened. The way he said it low and certian, made my stomach twist with both fear and something I didn't want to name.
I forced my voice steady. "Then name your price."
His smile was slow, dangerous. "My price? Oh, sweetheart, you don't want to hear it."
"Try me."
He leaned closer, his hand brushing the table, his scent clean, sharp, expensive curling into my lungs until it made me dizzy. His eyes locked on mine, unblinking, unyielding.
"If you become my wife," he murmured, voice like a promise and a threat all at once, "you don't just wear my ring. You wear my leash. You're mine. Every hour. Every breath. Every inch of you belongs to me."
My heart slammed against my ribs. My throat was dry, but I didn't look away.
Because in that moment, I realized something terrifying.
I wasn't just afraid of what he'd do to me.
I was afraid of how much I wanted to let him.