The air in the penthouse was thick and cold, smelling of expense, leather, and absolute authority. It was the kind of cold that seeped past Evelyn’s thin coat and chilled her bones, a constant, crushing reminder of the disaster her life had become.
Humiliation was a physical weight, pressing down on her shoulders as she stood on the polished, unforgiving marble floor.
Just twenty-four hours ago, she had been Evie Hayes, a promising art student.
Now, she was nothing more than collateral, a trembling offering to the man who held the signed, damning documents that represented her family’s complete ruin.
Her father’s voice, pleading and broken, echoed in her memory—a final, desperate plea that had led her here, to this dizzying height of power and darkness. “He is the only one, Evie.
Tell him you’ll do anything.” The betrayal wasn't Adrian Volkov's; it was her own family's. They had played a game they couldn't win, and now she was the devastating price tag.
The room itself was a monument to merciless success. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city, a glittering carpet of lights that seemed to mock her low position.
Every piece of furniture looked less like a comfortable item and more like a minimalist sculpture designed to intimidate.
Evie hugged her elbows, trying to appear small, trying to disappear entirely, but the man behind the imposing black desk wouldn’t allow it.
He hadn't spoken since she entered the room, merely observing her with an intensity that felt less like human examination and more like an assessment of a valuable, yet defective, object.
Adrian Volkov.
The name itself was a whisper of terror and staggering wealth in the city’s high circles. Thirty-five, impossibly handsome in a brutal, chiseled way, he was a predator in a perfectly tailored dark suit.
His power wasn't just in his billions; it was in the icy, fathomless depths of his steel-gray eyes.
They were focused on her now, stripping away her defenses, her meager pride, and her last shreds of hope.
“Sit,” he finally commanded, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that offered no warmth, only finality.
Evie flinched, then quickly sank onto the edge of the sleek, unforgiving sofa.
“Miss Hayes,” Adrian began, picking up a thin file from his desk. His movements were slow, deliberate, each gesture radiating dominance. “You understand why you are here.”
She swallowed hard, her throat dry. “Yes, Mr. Volkov. The debt.”
“Not the debt,” he corrected, his voice sharp, making her wince. “Your father’s debt. A staggering figure, accumulated through reckless speculation, forged documents, and a truly impressive level of mismanagement.
A figure I do not intend to forgive or mitigate.” He flipped the file open, scanning the contents with cold detachment. “$250 million. A paltry sum to me, a life sentence to you.”
Evie’s eyes burned. The cruelty was surgical, clean, and exact.
“I… I know it’s enormous. But I can work. I’ll sign whatever agreement you need. I can pay you back. I’m graduating soon; I have skills…”
Adrian let out a short, humorless laugh that cut her off instantly. It was the sound of a lion scoffing at a mouse’s squeak.
“Work?” He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands. The motion revealed the solid power in his shoulders. “Your skills, Miss Hayes, are worth less than the cost of the suit I’m wearing.
Even if you worked three minimum-wage jobs for the next fifty years, you wouldn’t make a dent in the interest alone.”
The words were a hammer blow of humiliation.
Tears pricked at her eyes, but she fiercely blinked them back. She would not cry in front of this man.
“Then what do you want?” she asked, her voice trembling but steadying with a nascent spark of defiance. “What is your price?”
Adrian finally set the file down and rose slowly. The movement was a shift in the atmosphere. He was tall, dominating the space between them.
He walked around the desk, stopping directly in front of her.
The sheer proximity was suffocating. Evie unconsciously shrunk further into the sofa.
This was the moment of their first explosive meeting, not with shouts or anger, but with the terrifying, silent clash of his sheer power against her fragile existence.
“My price,” he murmured, his gaze sweeping over her face, her body, lingering for a fraction too long, sending a shiver of pure, cold dread down her spine. “Is not money.
Money is boring. I want something more personal. Something that will settle a score that has been waiting for two decades.”
His words, dark and mysterious, introduced the layer of revenge. Evie looked up, confusion replacing terror. “A score? I don’t understand. My father… what did he do to you?”
“Your father,” Adrian said, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl, “was a small, insignificant piece of a much larger betrayal.
A theft that cost my family everything and nearly destroyed me. He will pay his debt to the law. You, Miss Hayes, will pay yours to me.”
He reached out, and his fingers, strong and warm despite the coldness of the man, lifted her chin, forcing her to look directly into those lethal grey eyes. The sudden, intimate touch was an electric volt—the first surge of raw, terrifying tension and unexpected attraction. Evie gasped, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“My price,” he repeated, his thumb brushing lightly across her lower lip, a gesture that was both possessive and threatening. “Is your complete, unreserved submission.
I don’t want your money. I want your presence. I want your time. I want your life under my control until I deem the debt paid.”
He stepped back, shattering the intense moment but leaving the lingering warmth of his touch on her skin. He returned to his desk, pulling out a single, pristine sheet of paper.
“I have two options for you, Evie,” he said, calling her by her first name for the first time, making it sound like a captured treasure. “Option one: I bankrupt your father’s company, seize all assets, and let the law handle his fraud. Your family will lose everything, including their freedom. Option two…”
He pushed the paper across the desk. It was a single-page document with a heavy title in bold font: CONTRACT OF DEBT SERVITUDE & TEMPORARY MATRIMONY.
Evie’s eyes widened in horror. Marriage?
“Option two,” Adrian finished, watching her reaction with cold amusement. “You sign this. You become my temporary wife, my companion, my possession, for as long as it takes me to be satisfied.
In return, the debt is paused, your father’s legal troubles vanish, and your family is secure. You save them.”
He paused, letting the magnitude of the choice settle on her. This was the moment of compulsion.
“I need a wife for business purposes—a flawless public image. You, with your sweet, innocent face and impeccable background, fit the role.
But understand this, Evie.
What happens behind closed doors will be entirely dictated by my needs.
You will live with me, you will travel with me, and you will obey every single command I issue.”
Evie felt faint. Marriage to this cold, dangerous man? A forced proximity that meant giving up her body, her freedom, everything.
But the alternative—her father in jail, her family in ruins—was unthinkable. She was the only one who could save them.
Tears finally overflowed, hot and heavy, tracing lines through the dust of her humiliation. She hated him. She hated the cruel, impossible choice. But her majboori was her master.
“How long… how long will this last?” she whispered, her voice barely a thread.
Adrian leaned forward, his expression darkening with a frightening intensity.
“Until I tell you it’s over.
And if you ever defy me, if you try to escape, if you betray me in the slightest way, I will destroy your family with such pleasure that you will wish you had taken option one.”
He dipped an expensive pen into a pot and offered it to her, the gold glinting in the light.
“Sign it, Evie. Make your choice.”
She reached for the pen, her hand shaking violently, her future dissolving into the terrifying uncertainty of his ruthless gaze. She picked up the pen, the smooth metal cold against her skin. Her life as Evie Hayes was officially over.
Just as Evie brought the pen down to the signature line, a sudden, loud sound from the outer office broke the silence. A security guard's voice, muffled and panicked, shouted something about an unauthorized breach.
Adrian's cold focus snapped instantly, replaced by a swift, lethal alertness. His hand shot across the desk, snatching the pen and paper away just an inch before her signature could be completed.
He was on his feet, pure adrenaline and danger radiating from him. He gave her a terrifying, warning look.
“Stay here. Do not move.” He grabbed a small, heavy object from his drawer—a pistol. “You have five seconds to finish that thought, Evie. Then your first lesson in obedience begins.” He pointed the gun toward the door, his eyes narrowed to slits.
What was Adrian Volkov, a civilian CEO, doing with a gun, and who was breaking into the fortress of the city’s most powerful man?
