The rain in Manhattan didn’t wash things clean; it just turned the grit of the city into a slick, suffocating coat of gray. Selene Vance stood outside the Vane Tower, her cheap coat soaked through, clutching a folder that contained the death warrant of her family’s legacy.

Ten years ago, she had walked away from Silas Vane in a rainstorm just like this. Back then, he was a boy with nothing but a brilliant mind and a chipped tooth. Today, his name was etched in chrome and glass forty stories above the street.

The elevator ride was too fast. Her stomach dropped as the doors slid open to a floor of white marble and silence.

"Mr. Vane will see you now," a blonde assistant said, her voice as clinical as a surgical strike.

Selene stepped into the office. It smelled of expensive cedar, old money, and him. Silas didn't look up from his tablet. He was broader than she remembered, his tailored charcoal suit struggling to contain the sheer physical presence of a man who spent his mornings in a boardroom and his nights in a boxing ring.

"You’re five minutes late, Selene," he said. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp that sent a traitorous shiver down her spine. "I usually charge a premium for wasted time."

"Silas. Please." Her voice flickered. She hated how small she felt. "You’ve bought all of my father’s high-interest loans. You own the house. You own the firm. Why?"

Finally, he looked up. His eyes weren't the warm chocolate she remembered; they were shards of flint. He stood, walking around the desk with a predatory grace. He stopped inches from her—close enough that she could feel the radiant heat of his body, a sharp contrast to her frozen skin.

"I didn't buy them for the investment," he murmured, reaching out to tuck a wet strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers were warm, his touch lingering just a second too long on the sensitive skin of her neck. "I bought them because I like to own beautiful things that once thought they were out of my reach."

Selene gasped, her breath hitching. "I'll pay you back. Every cent. Just give me a payment plan."

Silas let out a dark, melodic chuckle. He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, his scent—sandalwood and power—enveloping her. "You don't have any money, Selene. But you do have time. And you have a body that you used to tell me was mine."

He pulled back, his gaze dropping to her lips, then lower. The air in the room felt thick, heavy with a decade of resentment and a chemistry that hadn't dimmed.

"Six months," he said, stepping back to lean against his desk, crossing his powerful legs. "You move into my penthouse. You attend every event on my arm. You obey every directive I give you—in public, and in private. In exchange, the debt is erased. One dollar for every second you belong to me."

Selene’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. "You’re talking about... a mistress."

"I’m talking about restitution," Silas corrected, his voice dropping an octave. He slid a heavy, gold-fountain pen across the desk toward her. "Sign the contract, Selene. Or walk out that door and watch the banks strip your father of everything by noon tomorrow."

Selene looked at the pen, then at the man who was her first love and now her darkest nightmare. Her hand shook as she reached for it. She could feel his eyes on her, heavy and possessive, already stripping away her defenses.

She signed.

Silas picked up the paper, a slow, Victorious smirk spreading across his face. He stepped toward her again, his hand finding the small of her back and pulling her flush against his hard frame. The contact was electric, a jolt of pure, unadulterated heat that made her knees weak.

"Good girl," he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "Go home. Pack a bag. Only the essentials. I’ve already bought everything else I want to see you in."

He leaned in, and for a terrifying, exhilarating second, she thought he would kiss her. Instead, he just breathed her in, a silent promise of the storms to come.

"My driver will be at your door at seven. Don't make me wait, Selene. I'm very impatient with my property."

As she turned to leave, her legs feeling like lead, Silas’s voice stopped her one last time.

"And Selene? Leave the door unlocked. I like to come and go as I please."