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Mira signs the marriage contract knowing it’s a shield for her family—then Caleb traces the scar above her eye with a possessive thumb, and the heat she feels has nothing to do with protection. She wanted a deal; he wants to own her. And the scar is only the first mark he intends to leave.
Mira stands at the floor-to-ceiling window, the contract cold in her hands. Caleb crosses the room—slow, deliberate. He doesn't take the papers. He takes her chin. His thumb traces the scar above her
My hand is still on the contract when he says it—my bed—and the words land like a brand. I should say something. Should remind him of the terms, the limits we agreed. But his hand is at my throat agai
She wakes to the weight of his arm across her stomach and the ache between her thighs that proves last night was real. For a moment, she forgets to be careful—forgets the contract, the reasons, the