Bound To The Ruthless Billionaire Proxy

Elsie stood in the small, locked antechamber, rubbing her chilled arms through the rough fabric of the oversized scrubs. She looked through the inner glass wall into the main medical suite. The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the eerie blue glow of medical monitors stacked next to a central bed. She heard the rhythmic, mechanical hiss of a ventilator. In, out. In, out. A mechanical lung breathing for a corpse.

Elsie took a deep breath, forcing her racing heart to slow. Assess. Don’t just react. She stepped through the inner automatic door.

A figure lay on the central medical bed. The body was buried under thick blankets and a tangle of clear plastic tubes. A heavy, opaque breathing mask covered the lower half of the face. Sterling Carlisle, she assumed. Her dying husband. The man she had just sold her life to. She looked at him and felt nothing but the cold calculus of a spy. He was a door. She needed to find the key.

A shadow detached itself from the far corner of the room.

Elsie stepped backward rapidly, her back hitting the glass wall. The cold bit through the thin scrubs, a sharp shock that steadied her. A tall man stepped into the dim blue light, wearing a tailored charcoal suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. His features were sharp, predatory, and brutally handsome. He stared down at her with eyes as cold and hard as ice.

"Who are you?" Elsie asked, keeping her voice steady.

"Axel Stone," the man introduced himself. His voice was deep, a low rumble laced with unmistakable hostility. "Sterling's proxy. And his close friend."

Elsie swallowed, her mind already cataloguing the name. Axel Stone. Not Carlisle. Proxy, not family. "Why am I locked in here with you?"

Axel mocked her with a slight tilt of his head. "I'm here to monitor the new asset. Make sure you don't break anything."

"I am a human being," Elsie said, letting a calculated spark of defiance show. "Not an asset."

Axel took a slow, intimidating step toward her. His expensive shoes made no sound on the sterile floor. "In this house, you are nothing but collateral for a debt. A three billion dollar debt your father stole."

Elsie bit her lower lip. Hard. She tasted copper. The sharp, metallic tang was a jolt of clarity. It pulled her focus away from the insult, away from the instinct to scream her father's innocence. Her trembling hands stilled, and she consciously flattened her palms against the glass wall behind her, feeling the vibration of the building, grounding herself.

"Open the door," she demanded, her voice clear. She watched him for a reaction, any tell. "Give me a separate room. I'm not staying in a cage."

Axel crossed his arms over his broad chest, his expression a mask. "Until you prove you aren't a threat, you stay in the cage."

"I was thoroughly searched by June!" Elsie argued, her voice rising just enough to push him further. "I was scrubbed down with chemicals!"

Axel sneered. The expression sharpened his dangerous features. "I don't trust anyone else's security checks. Especially not with my uncle's corporate spies running around."

Uncle’s corporate spies. The words snagged in Elsie's mind. Roland had mentioned a group, a family structure with cracks. This was intel, and she filed it away instantly. Not all the Carlisles were on the same side. That was a weakness. Her weakness, his uncle—her mind was already connecting the dots.

He closed the distance between them in two quick, aggressive strides. Elsie's spine pressed harder against the cold glass. There was nowhere left to run. She didn't try. She tipped her chin up, meeting his gaze.

Axel towered over her. His physical presence was suffocating. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, smell the faint scent of mint and dark coffee. Her heart hammered, but her eyes didn't blink.

He slowly raised his large hands, his gaze locking onto hers with terrifying intensity.

"June checks for weapons and wires," Axel announced, his voice dropping to a lethal octave. "I check for sub-dermal bio-implants and micro-drives. Things your handlers might have buried under your skin."

Elsie held his stare. A different kind of search. He’s the paranoid one. The one who sees enemies everywhere. She could use that. She swallowed her revulsion, processing it as fuel.

"Then do it," she said, her voice a low, steady challenge. "Scan me, search me, lock me in whatever cage you want. But every second you waste treating me like the threat, the real ones are moving. And you just gave me a name for them."