Julian Sterling's gaze was as impersonal as if he were looking at a piece of furniture.
Bare feet silent on the plush carpet, he crossed to the bed. Without a word, he picked up a small vial and a glass of water from the nightstand and tossed them onto the mattress.
The label was stark white with black letters: Morning—After Pill.
"Take it," he said. His voice was a low rumble, cold and sharp.
A tremor ran through Chloe's body, but her eyes remained unnervingly calm. This composure was new, forged in betrayal. The old Chloe would have been a mess of shame and fear. The new Chloe watched him, her mind racing.
His gaze narrowed slightly, a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps—passing through his cold eyes at her lack of reaction.
She picked up the small white pill. Without hesitation, she put it in her mouth and swallowed, her eyes locked on his the entire time.
Her swift obedience seemed to surprise him even more. The scrutiny in his gaze intensified.
After placing the empty glass back on the nightstand, Chloe lifted her chin, her direct stare a challenge.
He stood over her, a towering, intimidating presence. "Aren't you going to ask why you're here?"
A humorless smile touched her lips. "Drugged by my dear stepsister, Kaitlyn Hayes, and delivered to your bed. Am I wrong?"
Her blunt admission hung in the air between them. He had expected tears, denials, hysterics. Not this cold acceptance.
His silence was her confirmation.
The names were acid in her throat. Kaitlyn. Arthur. They didn't just want her dead; they wanted to destroy her. She knew, with chilling certainty, that she couldn't fight them alone.
But this man... this man was different. Julian Sterling was a name that even David and Arthur spoke with caution. He was a predator at the top of the food chain.
She needed a weapon.
A wild, audacious idea took root.
The covers were thrown back. Her bare legs hit the cool air as she swung them over the side of the bed and stood. The silk shirt she wore ended high on her thighs, a stark visual of her vulnerability.
She closed the distance between them until only inches remained. She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. A cold knot tightened in her stomach, but her voice was clear and steady when she spoke.
"Julian Sterling. Marry me."
For the first time, a crack appeared in his icy composure. He looked at her as if she had just started speaking another language.
He narrowed his eyes, a dangerous glint appearing in their depths. "Do you have any idea what you're saying? You're supposed to be marrying Arthur Walton tomorrow."
Chloe's laugh was brittle. "A man who schemes to have me drugged and thrown into another man's bed doesn't deserve to be my husband."
She took another small step closer. "And you... you ruined me. Don't you think you should take some responsibility?"
He actually chuckled at that, a low, humorless sound that didn't reach his eyes. "Responsibility? Chloe Beaumont—Hayes, who do you think you are?"
His arrogance didn't faze her. This was just business.
"You're competing with the Walton family for the East Side development project," she stated, her voice cool. "Marry me, the sole heiress to Beaumont Industries, and you get the ultimate leverage."
She let that sink in.
"And I need a husband to get away from Arthur and make the Hayes family pay. We both get what we want."
Her logic, her absolute calm, the burning intensity in her eyes—it was a combination he had never seen. He looked at her, truly looked at her for the first time, and a flicker of genuine interest ignited in the cold depths of his gaze.
