Betrayed By Fiancé, Claimed By His Uncle

Clare found her wrinkled dress in a heap on the floor. She pulled it over her head, her fingers trembling so violently she could barely manage the zipper.

She had no shoes. They were lost somewhere in Elysium.

She crept out of the bedroom, her bare feet silent against the cold marble floors of the hallway.

She reached the massive front door. She grabbed the handle, but it didn't move. A sleek digital keypad glowed red next to the frame. Fingerprint or passcode required.

Panic seized her throat. She spun around, her eyes darting across the walls.

At the end of the hall, she saw a heavy steel door marked 'EXIT'. The fire stairs.

She ran to it, pushed the heavy bar, and slipped into the concrete stairwell. The door clicked shut behind her.

Back in the master bedroom, the moment the heavy steel door clicked, Aurthur opened his eyes.

He hadn't been asleep.

He lay perfectly still in the center of the bed. His face was an emotionless mask, but a muscle ticked furiously in his jaw.

He reached over to the nightstand and picked up his phone. He opened a secure application.

A map of the building appeared. A single red dot was moving slowly down the stairwell on the east side.

The Savile Row coat he had wrapped her in last night-the one she had grabbed from the chair on her way out-had a military-grade GPS tracker sewn into the lining.

Clare walked down flight after flight of concrete stairs. Her bare feet were freezing, covered in dust and grime. Her head throbbed with every step.

She didn't know what floor she started on, but it felt like hours before she finally reached a door marked 'Lobby'.

She slipped out through a service corridor and burst onto the street.

The morning air of Manhattan hit her like a wall of ice. The city was already awake, loud and unforgiving. Cars honked. People rushed past her, holding coffees and briefcases.

Clare stood on the sidewalk, shivering violently in her thin, ruined dress and Aurthur's oversized coat.

She had no phone. No wallet. No shoes.

A man in a stained jacket stumbled out of a nearby alley. He smelled of urine and cheap liquor. He saw Clare and stopped.

"Hey there, princess," he slurred, stepping toward her. "Rough night? Need some company?"

Clare's stomach lurched. She backed away, her bare heel stepping on a sharp piece of gravel. Pain shot up her leg.

She turned and started to run, limping down the block. The city was a monster, and she was entirely defenseless.

Just as her lungs started to burn, a massive black shape slid smoothly against the curb, matching her pace.

The Maybach.

The rear window rolled down. Aurthur sat in the back. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark trousers. His eyes were colder than the winter wind.

"Are you done?" he asked. His voice carried over the traffic, flat and terrifying.

Clare stopped. She looked at him, and a fresh wave of humiliation washed over her.

She turned sharply and tried to walk in the opposite direction.

She didn't make it three steps.

The car door opened. Aurthur stepped out. He closed the distance between them in two long strides.

His hand clamped around her wrist like a steel vice.

"Let me go!" Clare screamed, thrashing against his grip.

Aurthur didn't even flinch. He pulled her flush against his chest and physically shoved her into the back of the Maybach.

He climbed in after her and slammed the door.

Clare scrambled into the farthest corner of the seat, pulling her knees to her chest.

Aurthur reached into a hidden compartment under the seat. He pulled out a first-aid kit, a bottle of water, and a pair of brand-new, expensive leather flats.

He grabbed her ankle and pulled her leg toward him.

Clare kicked wildly. "Don't touch me!"

Aurthur ignored her. He used a wet wipe to clean the blood and dirt from her bruised sole. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but his grip on her ankle was unbreakable.

He slipped the leather shoe onto her foot.

He looked up. His dark eyes locked onto her terrified ones.

"I told you last night, Clare. You are mine," he said slowly, pronouncing every word like a verdict. "That means your safety, your health, your life-they belong to me. I will protect you. Even if I have to protect you from yourself."

Clare stared at him. Her chest he heave. She was trapped in a cage, and the monster holding the key was convinced he was her savior.