The rain was coming down in sheets now. Clara stood outside the heavy oak doors of the manor, the check clutched in her wet hand.
It was enough money to save her mother. It was enough to walk away.
But she couldn't.
Her phone buzzed. It was a news alert. Vanguard Merger on Shaky Ground due to Rumored Data Breach.
He had leaked the rumor himself. He was sabotaging his own deal just to corner her. If she walked away now, she would be the scapegoat. He would destroy her reputation. She would never work in finance again.
She turned around and pounded on the door.
It opened. Sebastian was standing there, leaning against the doorframe, looking bored.
"Forget something else?"
Clara walked past him, dripping water onto the pristine marble foyer. She marched into the library, grabbed the pen from his desk, and signed the marriage contract.
She threw the pen down. "Done. I own you for a year."
Sebastian picked up the paper. He checked the signature. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. It didn't reach his eyes.
"Technically," he said, "I own you."
He pressed a button on the intercom. "Mrs. Higgins, show my wife to the guest suite. And burn those clothes. She looks like a drowned rat."
The guest suite was larger than her entire childhood home. A hot bath was drawn. On the bed lay a silk nightgown that looked like it cost more than a car.
Clara scrubbed herself in the tub, trying to wash away the feeling of his kiss. It still lingered on her lips, a phantom burn.
She put on the nightgown. It fit perfectly. Too perfectly.
She stepped out into the bedroom. Sebastian was sitting in the armchair in the corner, watching her.
Clara crossed her arms over her chest. "The contract... it didn't specify... conjugal duties."
Sebastian stood up. He walked toward her. Clara backed up until her legs hit the edge of the bed.
"Relax, Clara," he said dryly. "I don't force women."
He reached out. Clara flinched.
He simply took her shoulders and turned her around. His cold fingers brushed her spine as he pulled her hair out from under the collar of the gown.
"I have patience," he whispered to the back of her head. "Sleep. We have a press conference at 9:00 AM."
He walked to the door. Before he left, his phone rang. He answered it on speaker.
"Seb, you crazy bastard," a male voice laughed. It was Julian, his lawyer and best friend. "Did you actually catch the little sparrow?"
Sebastian looked at Clara, his eyes dark.
"She's not a sparrow, Julian," he said. "She's my wife. And if anyone looks at her wrong, I'll bury them."
He slammed the door shut.
