Heated Desire

Isabella's hands trembled as she stared at the legal document resting on the mahogany desk.

The title bolded at the top read: MUTUAL MATRIMONIAL AGREEMENT.

"You expect me to marry you?" Her voice cracked, betraying the fierce defiance she was trying to project.

Adrian Blackwood leaned back in his leather chair. His custom-tailored dark suit screamed power. His jet-black hair was perfectly styled, framing a face carved from granite. But it was his eyes-cold, calculating, and piercingly gray-that made Isabella feel completely naked.

"I don't expect anything, Isabella," Adrian murmured, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. "I am offering a business transaction. You desperately need money. I need a wife."

"A transaction?" Isabella let out a bitter laugh. "You cornered me! You bought my mother's bank debt. You know the house will be auctioned off in forty-eight hours if I don't pay millions. And you call this a choice?"

"You can walk out that door right now," Adrian countered smoothly.

He didn't blink. He didn't have to.

He knew she couldn't leave.

Isabella looked back at the numbers on the page. The signing bonus alone would wipe out her family's crippling debt instantly. It would save the home her mother had bled for. It was the answer to every single one of her prayers.

And that made Adrian Blackwood the most dangerous man in the world.

"Why me?" she demanded, glaring at him. "You're a billionaire, Adrian. You could have any supermodel or heiress in the city."

"I don't want them," he replied instantly. "I want you."

The sheer intensity in his gaze made her breath catch. There was a dangerous aura around this man. The rumors were true: Adrian Blackwood never lost a negotiation. And right now, he had her trapped.

"What are the terms?" she asked, her voice dropping.

"Twelve months," Adrian said, his gaze locked on her lips. "We attend public galas together. We present a united front to the media. No interference in private affairs. And absolutely no divorce until the year is up."

"And what about... intimacy?" Isabella's heart hammered against her ribs.

Adrian's eyes darkened, a flash of something fierce and predatory crossing his features before it vanished. "There will be no love in this marriage, Isabella. I prefer it that way."

His coldness stung her unexpectedly. "My answer is no," she snapped, slamming the folder shut. "I won't sell myself to a monster."

She stood up, grabbed her purse, and marched toward the door.

"Isabella," Adrian's voice halted her right at the threshold. She didn't turn around, but her muscles went rigid. "You have until tomorrow morning at nine. If you don't sign, the bulldozers roll in on Friday."

Tears pricked her eyes. She slammed the door behind her, rushing into the elevator. She wanted to hate him. She needed to hate him. But as she stepped out into the pouring rain, a dangerous question consumed her mind:

Why was a ruthless billionaire so obsessed with binding her to his side?