The first thing Justina Ashes noticed wasn't the sheets or the view of the city glittering like diamonds beneath the penthouse windows.
It was the silk.
Smooth, cold, cutting gently into the delicate skin of her wrists where they were tied above her head. The headboard was carved from dark wood, polished to a gleam, and the ties looped tight enough to make her pulse thrum in her fingertips. She tested them once foolishly, instinctively and they only cinched tighter.
Her breath caught.
The second thing she noticed was him.
Carson Wills.
He sat across the room like a dark king at his throne, one ankle crossed over the other knee, a glass of whiskey turning lazy circles in his hand. His tailored shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, cuffs rolled back, exposing strong forearms marked by veins. His gaze was the most dangerous thing in the room piercing ice-blue eyes locked on her like she was prey, like he'd been waiting for this moment all his life.
The billionaire. The ruthless CEO who owned half of Manhattan's skyline. The man whose shadow had fallen over her family years ago, destroying her father's company, leaving their name in ashes.
And the very man she had come here tonight to destroy.
Only now she was tied to his bed instead.
Her lips parted to speak, but her voice cracked dry in her throat. Carson leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, the glass dangling from his fingers. He was calm, almost relaxed—yet his stillness was worse than any shouting.
"Good evening, Miss Ashes." His voice was low, rich, smooth as velvet stretched over steel. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced… though I should thank you. You've saved me the trouble of hunting you down."
Her stomach tightened. He knew her name.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice a husky whisper. She shifted against the ties, arching her back slightly, trying not to let the panic show. "Untie me, Mr. Wills. This is… this is insane."
Carson's lips curved not into a smile, but into something sharper. "Insane? No, Justina. What's insane is thinking you could break into my home, hack into my files, and not expect consequences."
Her blood froze.
He knew.
Justina's mind raced back through the night the stealthy entry through the service elevator, the codes she'd cracked, the flash drive hidden in the lining of her bra. All of it had been planned, precise. She hadn't thought anyone would catch her.
But Carson Wills hadn't gotten to the top of the world by being blind.
Her jaw tightened. "You have no proof."
Carson rose, slow and deliberate, every inch of his tall frame radiating power. He set the whiskey glass down on the nightstand beside her, close enough that the amber liquid reflected in her eyes. He leaned over her, placing one hand on the headboard above her tied wrists. His scent hit her smoke, cedar, something darker that made her pulse jump.
"I don't need proof." His mouth hovered near her ear, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. "I caught you in my bed, sweetheart. That's enough."
Her body betrayed her. A shiver rolled down her spine, heat pooling low in her belly even as she clenched her teeth against it. Damn him. Damn the way his nearness stirred something she hated to admit an ache, a spark she couldn't suppress.
"I don't know what you want from me," she whispered.
Carson chuckled softly, the sound sending goosebumps across her skin. He leaned back just enough to look at her face, his gaze sharp. "Oh, I think you do."
He let his eyes trail down her body her little black dress clinging to every curve, hem riding high from the struggle, stockings torn at the thigh. Justina's cheeks flamed. She hated the way his eyes devoured her, hated that part of her thrilled beneath it.
Carson's finger traced the line of her collarbone, feather-light, before stopping at the neckline of her dress. "You came here for my secrets. But I think you'll find mine aren't locked away in files. They're right here. Flesh and blood."
Justina's breath hitched.
He tilted his head, studying her like she was both puzzle and temptation. "Do you know what fascinates me, Miss Ashes? The audacity. You could have run, could have begged, could have hidden. But instead, you tied yourself to my world the moment you stepped into it. You thought you were in control. You thought you could play with fire."
His eyes darkened, voice dropping to a growl.
"Now you're mine to burn."
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her mind screaming no, her body whispering yes. She swallowed hard, forcing strength into her voice.
"You think tying me here makes you powerful?" she said, her tone laced with defiance. "All it does is prove how scared you are. You're terrified someone might see the cracks in your empire."
Carson's jaw tightened, but his lips curled. For the first time, he smiled not with amusement, but with appreciation. "There she is. The fire I've heard about. You're right, Justina. I am terrified."
She blinked, stunned.
He leaned close again, whispering against her lips. "But not of you."
Their mouths almost brushed, heat thrumming between them, and Justina's heart slammed against her ribs. She had to fight it had to remember why she was here. Her brother. Her family. The truth. Carson Wills was the enemy.
And yet…
Her body strained against the ties, not to escape but because part of her wanted to pull him closer.
Carson's eyes flicked to her parted lips, then back to her eyes. For one heartbeat, something raw flashed there loneliness, maybe even pain. Then it was gone, replaced by ruthless control.
He straightened, stepping back, leaving her breathless. "Here's what's going to happen. You're not leaving this penthouse until I decide you can. And if you think I won't find out exactly why you're here, you underestimate me."
Justina glared, forcing steel into her voice. "You won't break me."
Carson smirked. "Sweetheart… breaking you was never the goal." His gaze raked over her body again, slow and deliberate. "Owning you, however… that might be interesting."
Her skin prickled, her pulse betraying her fury. She yanked at the silk ties again, her voice sharp. "You don't own me. You never will."
The silence stretched between them, thick as smoke. The city lights spilled through the glass wall, casting Carson Wills in gold and shadow. He was too composed, too controlled, as if tying her to his bed wasn't an act of impulse but a calculated strategy.
That terrified her more than the silk biting into her wrists.
Because men who acted on impulse could be manipulated. Men who planned? They were impossible to outsmart.
Justina swallowed the knot in her throat. "You think this gives you leverage," she said, forcing her voice into a cool whisper. "But what happens when people find out you're holding a woman hostage in your penthouse?"
Carson's laugh was low, almost indulgent. "Hostage?" He paced to the side, his steps measured. "You came to me, sweetheart. My security cameras caught every second of it the elevator, the codes, the files you almost stole. Do you know what the press would call you if I released that footage?"
Her stomach sank. She knew.
"A thief." His eyes glittered as he stopped at the edge of the bed. "An intruder. A liar. A woman who tried to take down a man with more money, more lawyers, more power than she'll ever touch. Who do you think they'll believe?"
The truth burned in her chest. He was right. She had no protection, no allies. The world adored Carson Wills or feared him, which was worse.
She wet her lips, desperation threading through her anger. "Why me? Out of all the people who want to bring you down, why focus on me?"
Carson leaned forward, bracing one hand on the mattress beside her hip. The proximity was dizzying, his shadow falling over her, the faint heat of his body licking at her skin.
"Because you're bold enough to try," he murmured, his voice like dark silk. "And bold women are dangerous. They're also… fascinating."
His eyes roved over her face, lingering at her mouth, then dipping lower to the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
His gaze pinned her like a blade. For a moment, Justina couldn't decide if he wanted to punish her or devour her.
Her throat went dry. "Fascinating isn't the word I'd use."
Carson smirked. "You'll learn I never use the right word. I use the word that makes people stumble." His fingers brushed her jaw, a ghost of a touch that still managed to sear her nerves. "Like you're stumbling now, Ms. Ashes."
Her surname on his tongue made her flinch. She hadn't told him. Which meant he'd already dug into her life, peeled away layers she thought were hidden.
She hated him for it.
She hated herself more for the flicker of heat in her stomach at the sound of his voice.
She yanked against the silk, her wrists twisting. "You don't know me."
"Oh, I know more than you think." His tone was casual, but his eyes—those sharp, merciless eyes burned with knowledge. "The girl who clawed her way out of nowhere. Who worked tables, kitchens, any job that kept her afloat. Who taught herself coding because she couldn't afford college but had a brain too sharp to waste. The girl who hides scars with a chef's apron by day and breaks into billionaire penthouses by night."
Her heart stuttered.He did know her.
Her life, her carefully shielded, fractured, desperate life laid bare on his lips.
"Stop." The word came out a plea, not a command.
Carson tilted his head, studying her like art. "Why? Afraid I'll remind you who you really are?"
"I know who I am."
"Do you?" His mouth curved in something dangerous, half-smile, half-snarl. "Because the woman I see tied to my bed, still spitting fire at me isn't just a thief. She's hungry. She's desperate. And she's mine, whether she admits it yet or not."
Her breath hitched. Not at the word thief. At the word mine.
Her body betrayed her, heat pooling low in her belly. She squeezed her eyes shut, furious with herself. No man had ever undone her this quickly, this violently.
And Carson Wills was the last man she should feel anything for.He moved closer, the mattress dipping under his weight. She smelled him clean linen, faint cologne, and something darker, sharper.
"You came here to expose me," he whispered, his lips a breath away from her ear. "But maybe it's you who's been exposed."
She trembled. Not from fear. From the unbearable closeness of him, the way every nerve screamed in anticipation.
"I should hate you," she breathed.
"You do." His lips brushed her earlobe, a taunt. "And that's why you'll never forget me."
When his mouth finally claimed hers, it wasn't tender. It was a war. His lips demanded, devoured. She fought back, teeth clashing, tongue refusing to yield. He groaned a deep, primal sound as if her resistance thrilled him more than surrender ever could.
The kiss was fire and fury, heat exploding in her veins. She arched against the bonds, her body aching to touch, to claw, to push him away and pull him closer at once.
When he broke away, both of them were breathing hard.
Carson's eyes blazed. "See? Hate tastes a lot like hunger."
Justina's chest heaved. "Untie me."
His smirk returned, sharper this time. "Not yet. I like you better like this. It's the first time you've stopped running."
She froze.
Running.
The word cut deeper than his kiss, deeper than his gaze. Because he didn't know couldn't know that she had been running. From a past that still hunted her, from a man whose blood tied her fate in chains.
If Carson dug too far, if he uncovered that truth…..No. She couldn't let it happen.
She forced steel into her voice. "You don't know the first thing about me, Carson."
His grin was infuriating. "Challenge accepted."
The city stretched endlessly behind him, neon and starlight glittering like temptation. But in this room, on this bed, Justina knew the real danger wasn't out there.
It was him.
And the silk around her wrists wasn't just a restraint.
It was a promise.
The silk rubbed against her wrists again, the knot tightening every time she struggled. The sensation wasn't just confining it was intimate, maddening, as though his very control had seeped into the fabric.
She hated it.
She craved it.
Her heart hammered so violently that she was sure he could hear it. Carson's hand rested lightly on the bedspread beside her thigh, but the weight of his presence pressed on her chest like gravity itself.
"You think you've trapped me," she whispered, her voice trembling despite her attempt at steel. "But this is only temporary. I don't break."
Carson's lips curved, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Everyone breaks, Justina. The difference is what they reveal when they do. Some beg. Some betray. Some…" His gaze traveled slowly down her body, deliberate, scorching. "…discover who they really are."
Her skin prickled with unwanted heat. She pulled against the bonds again, her breath coming quicker.
"Untie me," she demanded, though her tone lacked the conviction she wanted.
He chuckled, low and rich, like velvet dragged over glass. "You don't want me to."
Her eyes flashed. "Don't tell me what I want."
Carson leaned in, his mouth hovering inches above hers. "Then prove it. Say you don't feel this. Say you don't want me close."
The air between them vibrated. Justina opened her mouth, ready to spit venom, but the words lodged in her throat. Because her body betrayed her…..her chest rising, her lips parting, the heat spiraling lower with every second of his nearness.
His smirk deepened. "Exactly."
Her pulse thundered in her ears. She turned her face away, desperate for air, desperate for distance. The view of the city through the glass wall blurred, neon lights melting into one another like a fever dream.
She'd prepared herself for this night for codes, for silence, for the chance to finally expose Carson Wills for the manipulator he was. She had not prepared herself for him.
Not for the sharpness of his mind, or the heat of his body, or the way he seemed to strip her bare without ever loosening a single knot.
"Why are you doing this?" she rasped. "If you have all the power, why tie me here like some… trophy?"
Carson's expression hardened, his smirk vanishing as his eyes darkened. "Because power isn't enough. Control is. And you, Justina Ashes, are the first woman who's dared to steal mine."
His confession startled her. For a second, she glimpsed something behind the billionaire mask not arrogance, not cruelty, but hunger. A man used to ruling every boardroom, every deal, every whispered rumor. A man who had never been challenged until her.
And that terrified him.
The realization hit her like a jolt. If she wanted to survive this wanted to keep her secrets safe she couldn't just resist him. She had to understand him.
Carson's hand lifted, brushing over her collarbone with maddening slowness. The touch wasn't rough, wasn't even forceful. It was worse. It was deliberate, reverent, as though he were memorizing her skin.
"You're trembling," he murmured.
"I'm furious," she shot back.
His laugh was soft, dangerous. "Fury tastes a lot like desire."
And then his mouth was on her neck, hot and claiming. Justina gasped, her body arching despite her fury. Every nerve screamed to resist, but her body betrayed her with shivers of raw heat.
She hated him for it.
She hated herself more.
But beneath the desire, beneath the suffocating attraction, another truth clawed at her chest: if Carson dug deeper, if he unraveled all her secrets, he'd learn the one thing she couldn't afford him to know.
That she wasn't just a thief.
She was the sister of his dead best friend.
And if he discovered that?
The game between them would no longer be seduction.
It would be war.