The harsh morning light sliced through the broken plastic blinds, hitting Gena right in the eyes. She woke up with a start, realizing she had slept the entire night curled tightly against Claudio's chest. She scrambled off the bed as if she had been burned.
Claudio woke at her sudden movement. He sat up slowly, wincing slightly, but his eyes were clear and sharp. The vulnerability of the night before was completely gone, replaced by the calculating gaze of a predator.
His custom phone, sitting on the nightstand, began to vibrate violently. He picked it up. His assistant, Dexter, was on the other end, his voice loud enough for Gena to hear.
"Mr. Pierce, the tabloids got wind of the shootout last night. They're saying you were involved in a gang war. The company stock is taking a hit, and your father is threatening to strip your board seat."
Claudio's face turned to stone. His brain processed the crisis in seconds. His dark eyes slowly shifted from the wall and locked onto Gena, who was folding the blanket on the floor.
He hung up the phone. He stood up, buttoned his ruined shirt over his bandaged torso, the torn fabric giving him a rakish, dangerous look. The aura of a billionaire CEO filled the tiny room.
"I need a cover story," Claudio said, his voice all business. "You are going to be my girlfriend. We were out together last night, and we got caught in the crossfire of a random mugging. You corroborate my story, and I pay you."
Gena stopped folding the blanket. She stood up, her face completely unreadable. "What do I get out of this?"
Claudio smirked, assuming she was just like every other woman he dealt with. He pulled a checkbook from his jacket, signed his name, and held out the blank check. "Write whatever number makes you happy."
Gena walked over, took the check from his fingers, crumpled it into a tight ball, and threw it into the trash can. She looked him dead in the eye, her gaze sharp enough to cut glass.
"I don't want your money," Gena said, her voice dropping to a low, intense register. "I want you to take me into the Pierce family's inner circle. I want to attend every dinner, every gala. And I want your absolute protection."
Claudio's smirk vanished. He studied the girl standing in front of him. "Why does a girl from Flushing want to walk into a shark tank like my family?"
"Because the people who sold me to that loan shark belong to your world," Gena lied smoothly, her nails digging into her palms. "I want to watch them burn, and I need a ladder to reach them."
Claudio stared at her for a long moment. He didn't fully believe her, but the raw, violent ambition in her eyes was undeniable. She was the perfect shield.
Claudio held out his right hand. Gena gripped it firmly. In that cramped, filthy bedroom, a contract was forged.
Thirty minutes later, a heavy knock rattled the apartment door. Dexter stood in the hallway, flanked by two massive bodyguards carrying several large garment bags.
Bulah and Leland cowered in the kitchen, terrified by the men in black suits.
Dexter handed Claudio a fresh, tailored suit. He then handed Gena three bags stamped with luxury logos.
Gena took the bags into the tiny bathroom. She stripped off her cheap clothes and pulled on a custom-tailored, black velvet Tom Ford gown. The fabric clung to her curves like a second skin. She applied the high-end makeup quickly, her hands moving with practiced ease.
When Gena opened the bathroom door and stepped out, the air in the room seemed to stop.
Claudio, who had been adjusting his cufflinks in front of a cheap full-length mirror hanging on the bedroom wall, turned and looked at her. His eyes widened slightly, a flash of genuine shock breaking through his cold exterior. The girl from the slums was gone. The woman standing before him radiated a dark, aristocratic elegance that put actual heiresses to shame.
Claudio walked up to her, his gaze intense. He pulled a heavy diamond necklace from a velvet box. He stepped behind her and fastened the clasp at the nape of her neck. His warm fingertips brushed against her cold collarbone, sending a shiver down her spine.
"Once we walk through the doors of my family's house, there is no turning back," Claudio whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. He gestured with his chin toward the cheap full-length mirror. "Look at us."
Gena looked at their reflection. The image was jarring—two predators in flawless attire, set against the backdrop of a peeling, mildew-stained wall. A cold, terrifying smile touched her lips. Let them try, she thought. I've already been torn apart.
They walked out of the apartment, completely ignoring the slack-jawed stares of her adoptive parents.
A massive, black Rolls-Royce Phantom sat idling on the dirty street. A bodyguard opened the heavy door.
Gena lifted the hem of her velvet gown and slid into the plush leather seat with perfect grace. Claudio sat beside her.
Dexter handed Gena an iPad with the guest list for the family dinner they were attending tonight.
Gena scrolled down. The very first name on the list was Hubert Pierce.
Her fingers clamped onto the edges of the iPad so hard her knuckles turned white. Her stomach twisted into a violent knot.
The Rolls-Royce pulled away from the curb, gliding smoothly toward the destination. The game had begun.
