Chapter 9 - The Blood on the Ledger
The storm outside had reached hurricane proportions by midnight, hurling sheets of freezing rain against the reinforced glass of the west wing bedroom.
I sat on the edge of the massive mahogany four-poster bed, staring at my hands. The sapphire ring on my finger gleamed coldly under the bedside lamp, a permanent reminder of the cage I had willingly stepped into.
Nolan was in custody. Pryce was in Florida. The Russians were circling. And a corrupt lieutenant had our names in a federal file.
The door clicked open, and Dominic walked in.
He had discarded his jacket and tie, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He looked exhausted—not with the weakness of ordinary men, but with the bone-deep fatigue of a king who hadn't slept a full night in a decade.
He walked over to the armchair by the window, poured a glass of amber bourbon, and sat down without looking at me.
"Is the house secure?" I asked quietly.
"The perimeter is doubled. Miller won't be back tonight—he knows I wasn't bluffing about the sharks," Dominic said, taking a slow sip of the bourbon.
He looked up, his grey eyes fixing on mine. "Your brother gave the police a signed statement claiming I forced you into the marriage at gunpoint."
"Nolan would sell our mother’s grave if it bought him another week of freedom," I said bitterly, pulling my knees up to my chest. "I'm sorry, Dominic. I brought this rot into your house. If you want to annul the marriage, cut ties with Hart Atlantic, and hand me over to Miller... I won't fight you."
Silence filled the room, heavy and absolute, save for the howling wind against the cliffs.
Dominic set his glass down on the table with a sharp clack. He stood up, walked across the room, and sat down on the edge of the bed right in front of me.
He reached out, his warm, calloused fingers gripping my chin, forcing me to look up at him.
"An annulment?" Dominic’s voice was dangerously low, vibrating with a fierce, possessive intensity. "You think I married you for a shipping terminal, Evelyn?"
"Didn't you?" I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs. "You said love was a luxury for people who don't run empires."
"I lied," Dominic said.
The two words dropped into the quiet room like a falling anvil.
"When your father brought you to my office five years ago, before any of this debt, before Pryce, before the cartel... I looked at you across a crowded room and knew that someday, by blood or by contract, you would bear my name."
May you like
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing my forehead, his breath warm against my skin.
"I didn't steal you from Malcolm Pryce to save Hart Atlantic, Evelyn. I used Hart Atlantic as an excuse to steal you from a world that was going to destroy you. And if the Russians, the police, or your brother want to take you away from me... they will have to burn this entire coastline to the ground."
