The laughter outside the door faded, leaving Justina's heart hammering in its wake. She had never felt so caught between worlds,the predator's lair and the echo of a child's innocence.
Carson had told her to stay.So of course, she slipped to the door.
Her palm pressed to the wood, every muscle in her body poised like a thief's. The muffled voices came clearer now Carson's low baritone and the boy's higher, unguarded tone. There was no menace in it. Only warmth.
"You'll have schoolwork in the morning," Carson said. His voice… softer, unarmored. She'd never heard him like that.
"But you promised chess tonight," the boy protested, laughing as though he wasn't afraid of this man who terrified entire boardrooms.
Chess. Promises. Laughter.
The billionaire devil was raising a child like he was nothing more than a man.
Justina pressed harder to the door, torn between disbelief and a pang she didn't want to name.
"Tomorrow," Carson said firmly, though not unkindly. Then the sound of footsteps, closer, heavier Carson returning.
She scrambled back to the bed, perching on the edge like she hadn't moved, but her pulse betrayed her. She could still hear that laughter like an echo inside her chest.
The door opened. Carson stepped inside, and in that moment Justina understood something chilling,he knew. He saw the shift in her eyes, the way her breath came too quick, the tremor she hadn't hidden well enough.
"You heard him." It wasn't a question.
She crossed her arms, lifting her chin. "So you weren't lying. Congratulations, you have a heart after all."
His smile was slow, dangerous. "You think Nathaniel is proof I'm human?"
Her jaw clenched. "Isn't he?"
Carson stalked closer, each step deliberate. "He's proof that everything I do, including keeping you here, isn't about games. It's survival."
The word cut into her. She wanted to scoff, to call his bluff. But his eyes, stormy, unflinching, stopped her.
"You'll meet him tomorrow," he said finally, standing over her. "But understand this, Justina. If you try to use him against me, I won't forgive it. And forgiveness is the only luxury keeping you breathing right now."
His fingers caught her chin, tilting her face up. The gesture was both intimate and suffocating, his thumb grazing the corner of her mouth like he was memorizing the shape of her defiance.
"You belong to me," he whispered. "And tomorrow, he'll know it too."
Heat flooded her veins rage, fear, desire, all tangled. She wanted to slap him, kiss him, destroy him, and escape all at once.
Instead, she smiled a razor's smile. "Careful, Carson. You might end up belonging to me."
For the first time, his breath caught.
The door shut behind Carson, and the silence he left behind was different this time. Not suffocating. Not heavy. Something else.
It was the echo of that boy's laughter.
Justina paced the room, her bare feet soundless against the plush carpet. She hated that her body still remembered the silk on her skin, the heat of Carson's touch, the way his voice dipped when he whispered her name. But the sound of Nathaniel had unsettled her more than Carson ever could.
Because laughter like that didn't survive in cages. It came from safety, from love. And men like Carson Wills weren't supposed to be capable of either.
She stopped by the glass wall, her reflection framed against the city. A woman in borrowed shadows. A thief, a survivor, a liar. She had come here ready to rip the empire out from under a billionaire's feet.
And now? She was being fed roasted duck and promises of meeting his nephew.
Her lips curved in a bitter smile. "What the hell are you doing, Justina?" she whispered to herself.
The door opened again, and her pulse jumped. Carson didn't knock he never did. He filled the doorway, a silhouette of dominance, dark shirt unbuttoned at the throat. The arrogance was still there, but his eyes were sharper, more watchful, as though he knew she'd been listening.
"You heard him," he said flatly.
"I did." She crossed her arms, feigning composure. "So you weren't lying."
Carson stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He didn't storm or threaten. He prowled. His presence was heavy enough to press against her chest.
"You think Nathaniel proves I'm soft," he murmured, his tone quiet but razor-edged. "He doesn't. He proves I have more to lose. And that makes me more dangerous than you realize."
Her throat tightened. "Dangerous to who? Him? Me? Or yourself?"
The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile. He closed the distance, lifting his hand to her face. His fingers brushed her jaw, a light, almost reverent touch that contradicted his words.
"You're trembling," he said.
"I'm furious."
"Same thing, with you." His thumb grazed the corner of her lips, slow, deliberate. "You burn too hot to separate one from the other."
Her chest rose sharply, traitorously, and she hated him for noticing.
Carson leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Tomorrow, you'll meet him. And when you do, remember he's mine. Like you are."
Her restraint snapped. She shoved him back with both hands, her fury a shield against the fire in her veins. "I don't belong to you."
Carson didn't stumble. He caught her wrists instead, pulling them above her head in one swift, practiced motion. Her back hit the glass wall with a muted thud, the city glowing behind her like a stage.
"Don't you?" His body pressed just close enough for her to feel the strength in him, the restrained hunger. "Tell me you don't feel it too."
She glared up at him, chest heaving. "All I feel is the urge to break you."
His lips hovered a breath from hers. "Then do it, Justina. Break me."
Her pulse thundered against the glass, a wild drumbeat she couldn't silence. Carson's body caged hers, not with brute force but with sheer presence, the heat of him searing her through the thin barrier of air.
He hadn't kissed her. Not yet. That was worse. He lingered close enough for her to taste the electricity in the space between them, close enough that her lips tingled in anticipation, furious with herself for wanting what she swore she didn't.
"Move," she whispered, her voice shaking with a betrayal of need.
Carson's smile was a predator's slow, indulgent. "Say 'please.'"
Her nostrils flared. "I'd rather choke."
"Careful." His head dipped lower, his mouth brushing the line of her jaw, slow and devastating. "I like the sound of you begging."
Her knees weakened. She wanted to scream, to shove him away, but her body burned where his lips grazed, where his hands pinned her wrists like silk had earlier.
"Let me go," she demanded.
"No," he said, matter-of-fact. His lips touched her throat, heat sparking down her skin. "Because I don't think you want me to."
Her eyes squeezed shut. Damn him. Damn him for being right, for peeling back the armor she'd spent years building.
She twisted, and this time her lips collided with his not soft, not tender. It was a clash, an explosion. She kissed him like she wanted to devour him, like she wanted to bite. And Carson… Carson kissed her back with the same feral hunger, as if he'd been starving.
A sound tore from her throat, half fury, half moan, and his grip on her wrists tightened. The city lights blurred behind her, their heat and shadows the only reality.
When he finally broke the kiss, both of them were breathing hard.
Carson's forehead rested against hers, his voice hoarse. "Tell me again you don't belong to me."
Her lips trembled, but her glare was steady. "I don't."
"Liar." His smile was dangerous, but softer somehow. He released her wrists, his hands trailing down her arms with deliberate slowness, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
She staggered a step back, trying to reclaim her breath, her reason.
"You think this means anything?" she hissed. "It doesn't. You're still the man I came here to destroy."
Carson straightened, fixing his cuffs with calm precision, as though her kiss hadn't unraveled him too. "Good try but remember…" His eyes locked onto hers, dark and certain. "Everything you do inside these walls, you do on my terms."
And then he left her again, the air between them still quivering from the kiss that shouldn't have happened.
Justina slid down the glass wall, knees pulling to her chest, lips swollen from the battle she'd lost and hated herself for enjoying.
She should've felt victory for resisting him. Instead, she felt scorched.
And tomorrow, she'd face the boy who might unravel Carson's armor completely.
The boy who might recognize her for who she really was.
Morning came too quickly.
Justina hadn't slept, though the bed was softer than clouds and scented faintly of Carson's cologne. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt his mouth on hers again hard, consuming, forbidden.
By the time the door opened, her resolve was already frayed.
Carson stepped inside, composed in a tailored navy suit. He carried the scent of control with him, as though the night before had been nothing more than business.
"Come," he ordered.
She bristled. "Where?"
His lips curved, but his eyes were flat. "To meet Nathaniel. You'll behave, Justina. Or you'll regret it."
Her pulse spiked at the warning, but she followed, her bare feet whispering over the marble floors as he led her through the penthouse. The place was vast, decadent, all glass and steel and impossible wealth. But the hallway they entered now was softer warm rugs, bookshelves, framed sketches in childish lines.
A boy's space.Carson opened the last door, and there he was.
Nathaniel.
Twelve, maybe thirteen. Tousled dark hair, sharp brown eyes that carried too much awareness for his age. He sat cross-legged on the floor, chessboard spread out before him.
He looked up and froze.
Justina froze too. Because the boy's gaze didn't just land on her. It recognized her.
"Miss Ashes?" he whispered, voice small but certain.
Carson's head snapped toward him. "You know her?"
Nathaniel nodded slowly, his eyes wide with disbelief. "She's the one… she used to bring food to the shelter. Years ago. Before…" He trailed off, his throat tightening.
Justina's chest constricted. Memories surged long nights in the cramped kitchen of the outreach center, sneaking extra meals for the children who looked too thin, too hungry. Nathaniel had been one of them. She hadn't recognized him, but now… yes. The same eyes, older now, sharper.
Her heart twisted.
Carson's gaze swung back to her, sharp as a blade. "You never told me this."
Her lips parted. "I didn't know."
Nathaniel scrambled to his feet, standing beside the man who was both his guardian and his fortress. "Uncle, she's the one I told you about. The one who made the soup that tasted like home."
The words sliced through her, a mix of warmth and dread. Because in that moment, she realized her greatest secret wasn't her plan to destroy Carson.
It was that his nephew already knew who she was.
Carson's eyes darkened with something dangerous. Not fury worse. Calculation.
"You've been in my life longer than I thought," he murmured.
His hand found the small of her back, a touch that looked casual to Nathaniel but burned like fire against her skin. "And now I want to know why."
The boy's presence didn't erase the sensual danger it heightened it. Because now, Justina wasn't just tangled with Carson. She was tangled with his family.
And there was no way out without breaking hearts.
Nathaniel bent to reset the chessboard, his young hands quick and precise, but Carson's eyes never left her.
Justina could feel him watching, studying, weighing every breath she took. The weight of his hand at her back was a brand, casual for Nathaniel's sake but commanding all the same.
"Sit," Carson murmured.
It was for Nathaniel, but she sat too on instinct, as though her body had been trained by the sound of his voice. The realization made her flush, hot with shame and something far more dangerous.
Nathaniel smiled shyly at her. "Will you play with me? Uncle always wins."
Justina forced a smile. "I'll try."
Carson leaned against the desk behind them, arms crossed, watching. Not interfering. Just… waiting.
The game began. Nathaniel was sharp, strategic for his age, his brows furrowed in concentration. Justina found herself warming to him, answering his eagerness with patience, guiding his moves. For a moment, it almost felt normal. Almost.
But every time she looked up, Carson's gaze caught hers, pinning her, reminding her that normal didn't exist here.
When Nathaniel finally yawned, Carson's hand came down on his shoulder, surprisingly gentle. "Bed," he said.
The boy protested faintly but obeyed, hugging Justina with sudden warmth before slipping out the door.
Her breath hitched at the unexpected contact, the simple trust of a child she barely knew.
And then it was just her and Carson.The door clicked shut.
He moved instantly, closing the distance in three long strides. His hand braced against the wall beside her head, trapping her without touching. His body radiated heat, his cologne and power surrounding her like smoke.
"You lied to me," he said softly.
Her throat tightened. "I didn't know it was him."
Carson's eyes bored into hers. "But you knew the shelter. You knew you were part of something that touched my life before you ever set foot in my penthouse."
She tried to hold his stare. "So what? That doesn't change anything."
His lips curved, slow and dangerous. "It changes everything. Because now I don't just want to own you, Justina. I want to understand you."
Her chest heaved. "You'll never understand me."
Carson leaned closer, his mouth brushing her ear, his voice a growl. "Then I'll break you until I do."
A shiver ran down her spine, desire and terror tangled too tightly to separate.Her lips parted, the protest dying on her tongue.
Carson's hand slipped to her waist, fingers curling possessively. "You'll stay. You'll feed me. You'll play his games. And every night, you'll come back to my bed. That's the new contract, Justina."
Her heart pounded, furious and traitorous. "And if I refuse?"
Carson's mouth curved into a cruel smile. "You won't. Because Nathaniel already trusts you. And you won't risk breaking him."
Her stomach twisted. Damn him. Damn him for using the boy as her leash.But when his lips hovered inches from hers again, she realized the real danger wasn't his threat.
It was that part of her wanted to say yes.