Reborn Heiress: Claimed By The Ruthless Boss

The morning sun sliced through the blinds, stabbing directly into Giana's eyes.

She groaned and tried to open them. A crushing ache radiated through every muscle in her body. It felt like her bones had been ground into powder.

She took a sharp breath, but the movement stretched her split lip. A sharp sting made her wince.

She turned her head.

Cornel sat in the single armchair in the corner of the room. His gray eyes were locked onto her.

Giana's heart skipped a beat. Her stomach dropped.

He wore dark gray dress pants. The first three buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone. He held a silver lighter in his hand. He flipped the metal lid open and closed.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

The sound echoed in the quiet room, heavy and threatening.

Giana remembered her past life. She remembered waking up, screaming, throwing things at him. She remembered how that had ended.

She swallowed the lump of panic in her throat. She forced herself to look him dead in the eye.

She didn't pull the comforter up to hide her chest. She pushed herself up into a sitting position. The blanket fell to her waist. The dark bruises on her collarbones were fully exposed to the cold air.

Cornel's thumb stopped on the lighter. His eyes narrowed.

Giana looked at the floor. Her evening gown was shredded into useless strips of fabric.

She threw the comforter off. She stepped onto the thick wool rug barefoot. She ignored the soreness between her thighs and walked straight to the foot of the bed. Cornel had left a spare white dress shirt draped over the bench.

Cornel didn't move. He watched the curve of her spine. He watched the way she walked. A dark, heavy possessiveness began to coil in his gut.

Giana pulled the oversized shirt over her shoulders. The cold silk sent a shiver down her spine. The hem fell just below her thighs.

She started buttoning the shirt, starting from the bottom. Her movements were slow and steady. She acted like she was completely alone in the room.

"You think you can walk out of here wearing my clothes?" Cornel's voice was a low rumble.

Giana's fingers paused on the third button. She took a slow breath, filling her lungs, and turned around. She forced the corners of her mouth up into a lazy smirk.

"Mr. Stark, we are both adults. It was just friends with benefits."

Cornel's face went completely hard.

He stood up. His massive frame blocked out the sunlight from the window. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

He closed the distance between them in three long strides.

Giana stepped back instinctively. Her shoulder blades hit the cold wall.

Cornel slammed his hand against the drywall right next to her ear. He leaned in. His chest almost brushed against hers.

"Friends with benefits?" He let out a harsh breath that hit her nose. "What exactly did you benefit from me? The right to wear my shirt and walk out of my life?"

Giana's pupils dilated. Her chest tightened. He was too close to the truth.

She forced a short laugh from her throat.

"I took one night from the most expensive man in New York. I'd say I made a profit." She tilted her chin up, refusing to break eye contact.

Cornel stared at her defiant eyes. His throat went dry. The memory of how she tasted last night hit him like a physical blow.

He dropped his hand from the wall and grabbed her waist. He yanked her forward. Her body crashed into his solid chest.

Giana gasped. She shoved her hands against his chest, trying to push him away. She could feel his heart hammering against her palms.

"If you made a profit, why don't we make another deal?" His voice was thick and raspy. His eyes dropped to her bruised lips.

Giana knew she was losing control of the situation. She jerked her head to the side, dodging his mouth. His lips brushed against her cheek instead.

"Sorry, Mr. Stark. I don't eat the same dish twice." She pushed hard against his shoulders.

Cornel's jaw clenched. The rejection hit his ego like a sledgehammer.

He grabbed her wrist. His fingers dug into her skin, cutting off her circulation.

He turned and dragged her toward the bathroom.

Giana stumbled over her own feet trying to keep up. The oversized shirt slipped off one shoulder.

Cornel kicked the bathroom door open with his heavy boot. The wood slammed against the wall with a deafening crack. He pulled her inside and shoved her backward. Her lower back hit the edge of the marble sink.