I spent the next few hours in a daze. The Corinthian Hotel wasn't just a building; it was a statement, a monument to control, power, and fear. Every polished surface, every glint of glass and steel seemed to remind me that I was now trapped in a world that ran on its own ruthless rules. And at the center of it all… Adrian Vassari.
My little brother. His image burned in my mind—the terror in his eyes when he'd been photographed, hands bound, pleading without words. That alone should have made me compliant. But it didn't. Anger, bitter and raw, coiled around my chest. Fear was there, yes, but it was tethered to something darker: resentment. Adrian had cornered me, humiliated me, forced me into this grotesque role. And yet… somehow, he had done it without lifting a hand.
A knock at the door startled me.
"Miss Hale," a voice said—polished, professional. The same one from before. "Dinner is ready."
I followed the guard silently, each step a reminder that this place wasn't mine. The private dining room smelled faintly of citrus and spice. A single table, set for two, waited under a crystal chandelier. Adrian was already seated. Glasses of deep red wine reflected the soft lighting.
He didn't speak at first. He didn't need to. The weight of his presence filled the room.
"You've been quiet," he said finally. His tone was smooth, detached. Dangerous.
I didn't answer.
He lifted his glass, swirling the liquid like it were blood. "You know," he continued, "I've been watching you since the moment you signed that contract. Careful, calculating… terrified. All in one, and yet… not broken."
I met his gaze. "I'm not here to entertain you."
"Of course not." He smirked faintly. "You're here to survive."
Survive. The word was a knife twisting in my gut.
Dinner was served, each course exquisitely prepared. But I couldn't eat. My stomach had turned to stone. Every movement I made, every breath I took, was weighed down by the thought of my brother. He was out there, somewhere, scared. And I had no idea what Adrian had planned for the next thirty days—or how far he was willing to go to ensure my compliance.
"You'll need to learn quickly," he said after a long silence, breaking off a piece of bread. "The public will see us as husband and wife. You smile, you attend, you nod. That's your role. Nothing more. You slip up… I don't tolerate mistakes."
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep my voice steady. "And my brother? You said he's alive. For now. How long?"
Adrian set down his fork, leaning back slightly. "That depends on you." His grey eyes bore into mine, cold and calculating. "Do not test me."
I wanted to scream. To throw the silverware across the room. Instead, I whispered, "You're a monster."
A flicker of something—amusement? irritation?—passed over his face. "Perhaps. But monsters survive. And if you want your brother to survive, you'll need to learn how to… play along."
We ate in silence after that. The clinking of cutlery against plates was deafening.
Later, I was shown to the suite I'd now be calling home. It was large, impossibly lavish, but it felt like a gilded cage. I dropped my bag on the floor and sank onto the edge of the king-sized bed, my head in my hands.
Thirty days. One month to navigate a world I didn't belong in. To sit beside a man I hated. And to keep my brother alive.
I didn't know how I was going to do it.
A knock at the door jolted me upright.
"Miss Hale."
It was Adrian again. He stepped in, closing the door behind him. "It's late," he said softly. "But we need to start preparing for tomorrow."
I rose slowly, instinctively pulling my robe tighter around me.
He approached, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him. And yet, there was no aggression. Only control. "I want you ready," he said, voice low, rough. "Every movement, every expression, every word… perfect."
I felt a spark of defiance rise. "And if I'm not?"
"You will be." He placed a hand on the back of a chair near me, leaning in just enough that his shadow stretched across me. "Because mistakes have consequences."
I swallowed. Fear, yes. But something else lurked beneath it—something I didn't want to name.
"You're going to hate me," he murmured, almost a whisper.
I wanted to tell him I already did.
But instead, I said nothing.
He turned and left as quietly as he had come, leaving me alone with the weight of the contract on my finger and the knowledge that the next thirty days would test everything I thought I knew about myself… and about him.