The elevator ride to the penthouse was the longest sixty seconds of Elena's life.
The air was thick with the scent of their shared heat and the heavy, pulsating silence between them. Julian didn't touch her. He stood like a statue of dark marble, his eyes fixed on the shifting floor numbers, but the tension radiating off him was a physical force, pinning her against the mirrored wall.
When the doors opened, he didn't lead her. He grabbed her hand—his grip firm and possessive—and pulled her through the foyer, past the expensive art and the cold glass, straight to the room at the end of the hall.
The Master Bedroom was bathed in the silver glow of the moon. Julian kicked the door shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot.
"You wanted to say something in the car, Elena," he rasped, turning her around to face him. He didn't let go of her hand; he raised it, his thumb tracing the jagged edge of the ten-carat diamond. "You called my name like it was a prayer."
"I was... I was out of my mind," she whispered, her back hitting the heavy oak of the door.
"No. You were finally honest."
Julian stepped into her, his body a solid wall of heat. He reached up and unbuttoned his waistcoat with one hand, tossing it onto the floor without breaking eye contact.
"The contract says you belong to me. But tonight, I don't want the contract." He leaned down, his lips grazing the shell of her ear, sending a violent shiver down her spine. "I want the woman who was weeping in the back of my car. I want the girl who hates me but can't stop aching for me."
He reached for the zipper of her velvet dress. The sound of the teeth parting was loud in the quiet room. The fabric gave way, sliding off her shoulders and pooling at her feet in a dark, discarded heap.
Elena stood before him, completely bare in the moonlight. She felt scorched by his gaze. He looked at her not as a business deal, but as a man starving for his only meal.
"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice cracking.
He lifted her, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist, her arms clinging to his neck. He carried her to the massive bed, laying her down against the cool, dark silk sheets. The contrast was intoxicating—her pale, soft skin against the shadows of his world.
He joined her, his movements no longer clinical or cold. They were feverish.
When he finally claimed her, it wasn't with the calculated dominance of the night before. It was a collision of souls. He moved with a rhythmic, shattering intensity that demanded everything she had. Elena's fingers dug into the muscles of his back, her voice rising in a series of broken, husky gasps as the world began to tilt and spin.
Every thrust was a question; every moan was an answer.
The pulsating ache that had been building since the dinner table finally exploded. It was a jolt of electricity that started at the base of her spine and radiated outward, turning her bones to liquid. She called his name—not in hate, but in a desperate, primal recognition.
Julian groaned, a deep, guttural sound of surrender, as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his own body shaking with the force of his release.
For a long minute, the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing.
Julian didn't pull away immediately. He stayed draped over her, his heart hammering against her chest. Then, he shifted, rolling to his side but keeping her tucked against him, his arm a heavy, warm weight across her waist.
"Elena," he whispered, his voice sounding different—softer, almost haunted.
"Yes?" she breathed, her eyes heavy.
"Don't think this changes anything," he said, the coldness beginning to creep back into his tone, though he didn't let her go. "The merger happens in three days. After that, the real work begins."
He closed his eyes, leaving Elena awake in the dark. The pleasure was gone, replaced by a sudden, chilling realization.
He hadn't just claimed her body. He was starting to claim the one thing the contract didn't mention.
Her heart.