“And if I don’t agree?” I ask, even though my tongue sticks to the roof of my dry mouth.

“You’ll give up ownership of H&H and I’ll have the liberty to sell it or merge it with another company. I haven’t decided yet.”

“You…you can’t do that. The artistic value of H&H will disappear.”

“I have no fucks to give about that.”

“How about the employees? Will you at least keep them? Many of them have debts and loans to pay. They’ve been with us since the start, and some are too old to work for larger corporations.”

“I don’t see why any of that is my problem.” His face remains stoic, unchanging.

Tears gather in my eyes at the injustice of the world. A world ruled by the likes of Jonathan King. Large corporations like King Enterprises don’t give a fuck about smaller ones. They don’t stop to look under their shoes after they crush multiple families with their capitalist bullshit.

Gulping in a deep breath, I try to ignore how close he is and that his scent is enveloping me whether I like it or not. It’s another one of the intimidation factors that he uses relentlessly and unapologetically.

It’s useless to fight him on a bigger scale or in a company versus company type of argument. He came here already knowing he has the upper hand, so he’ll never cave in.

I take an entirely different route. “You’re my sister’s husband. We can’t possibly do this.”

“I get to decide that, and I say we will.”

“How could you do this to Alicia after…” I trail off before I blurt out all the thoughts I want to scream at his face. This is the worst time to confront him about the past.

He eradicates the distance between us in one step and holds my chin captive like he did at the wedding. I try to take a step back, but he wraps his other hand around the back of my neck, imprisoning me.

My pulse heightens until it’s the only thing I can hear in my ears. His callous touch, and the way he does it, as if he has every right to — as if I’m already his property — should make me rage. However, I’m unable to get past the ball lodged in my throat. It’s like I’m back to being that little girl who peeked up at him, because actually looking at him? That’s like peering at the sun and being roasted alive.

“After what? If you start something, finish it.”

“After she died.” I’m glad my voice doesn’t crack or break. “I can’t do that to her. She was my sister.”

“The one whose funeral you didn’t even attend?”

I bite my lower lip, caging in the feelings trying to bleed out of me.

“That’s what I thought.” He releases me with what almost seems like…distaste.

I see it then, the darkness in his grey eyes. At first, I thought it was anger and disapproval, and while those are indeed there, it’s so much deeper than that. There’s also another potent emotion that’s lurking beneath the surface.

Grudge. Hard and poignant.

Jonathan doesn’t seek to own me because he wants me. Far from it. He has a hidden agenda and he won’t stop until he achieves it. Whether I survive or perish at the end is the least of his concerns.

“I’ll give you time to think about it, and then I’ll send a driver to your house.”

“How do you know my address?”

He continues as if I didn’t just ask him a question, “If you don’t show up at my house tonight, Harris will start H&H acquisition procedures tomorrow morning.”

“How…how is that a choice?”

“It is. You’ll always have a choice with me, Aurora. Be smart. After what you did to Maxim, I expect that of you.”

“I told you not to say his name,” I snap.

He watches me peculiarly for a second. I expect him to invade my space again and confiscate my oxygen, but he turns around and leaves with the same savage power he walked in with.

Air whooshes back into my lungs and I fall on the chair, my heels scraping against the ground. It’s like he stole my thought process, and I can now have it back.

Or not really.

Now the air is thick with his indecent proposal that’s hanging over my head like a guillotine. I’m not an idiot. I know Jonathan wouldn’t pay so much money for pussy. I mean, he’s the Jonathan King. He can have whomever he wishes.

So why me? What the hell does he want from me?

The door opens and Layla rushes inside holding two cups of iced coffee. “That bastard had a smile on his face as he left. That’s not good, is it?”

“We’re screwed, Lay.”

We sit across from each other as I tell her all about Jonathan’s proposal and the price he demands I pay.

“That piece of S!” She jumps to her feet, pacing the length of the office and slurping from her coffee cup. “You can sue him for sexual harassment.”

“He didn’t force me. If anything, he wants me to be one hundred per cent willing.”

“D. I. C. K,” she spells out.

“There’s something else, Lay.”

“What? What is it?” She crouches in front of me, her mouth releasing the straw with a gentle pop and dread forming a crease on her forehead.

“I don’t think I’m his endgame. There’s something else I can’t put my finger on.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hmm. I must say, it makes sense. He’s Jonathan King, right? He wouldn’t pay so much for a mistress.”

My nose scrunches at that word. I can’t believe the bastard actually suggested that he gets…me. Out of all things, it had to be that.

“Is it because of your sister?”

“What?”

“You’re a carbon copy of her, even Ethan noticed that. Surely Jonathan noticed it, too. Maybe he wants you to be her replacement.”

“That’s…sick.”

“I know, but this is Jonathan. He’s kind of sick. You can tell that underneath all the silver fox appearance, there’s a Satan’s spawn. You can’t eliminate any possibility.”

“You know, I always hated him because Alicia had acute depression and he made it worse. I could feel it even when I was a little girl. And remember those articles that speculated she didn’t die because of an accident but from committing suicide? I believe them, Lay. I believe he’s the major reason my sister could’ve made that decision. And now, I have to relive her fate?”