C2 The first look

Elena wore the emerald green silk dress like armor. It was an exquisite piece of clothing, tightly tailored and aggressively elegant, entirely inappropriate for a tense family dinner.

She had chosen it with deliberate malice. She wanted Alexander Sterling to see exactly what he was buying. She wanted to look cold, unyielding, and utterly miserable.

Standing in front of her vanity mirror upstairs, she had applied a dark, sharp layer of eyeliner, transforming her eyes into weapons. She was going to look this ancient, ruthless billionaire in the eye and make sure he knew he was purchasing a woman who would make his life a living hell.

She paused at the top of the grand staircase, taking a slow, steadying breath. Her duffel bag was still hidden under her bed, useless and abandoned. She clenched her fists, burying her fingernails into her palms until it stung. She was ready for a war.

Her father had trapped her, locked the doors, and signed her life away, but she wouldn't let them see her break. She would be a nightmare of a bride.

Elena forced her feet forward, her high heels clicking like a countdown against the marble stairs.

The soft, low murmur of masculine voices drifted from the formal living room. Her father's voice sounded desperate, pitchy, and frantic. The other voice was a deep, resonant baritone that vibrated through the floorboards, smooth as velvet and heavy as a shifting tectonic plate. Elena rounded the corner into the foyer, her chin held high, her lips pressed into a hard, defiant line. She threw the double doors to the living room open, ready to unleash her fury.

"Ah, here she is,"

Arthur Vance said. He practically jumped out of his skin, his voice tight with nerves as he stood near the fireplace. His hands were trembling so badly he had to set his whiskey glass down on the mantelpiece.

The man sitting on the dark leather sofa slowly rose to his feet.

Elena's rehearsed speech died instantly in her throat. The air was violently sucked out of her lungs. Her knees turned to absolute water, and her jaw nearly dropped right there on the polished hardwood floor.

This was Alexander Sterling?

He wasn't a balding, wrinkled corporate dinosaur. He didn't have a protruding stomach, a bitter, weathered face, or the smell of stale cigars clinging to an outdated suit.

Standing at a towering six-foot-two, Alexander Sterling was devastatingly, breathtakingly handsome. He looked thirty-five in the best possible way-mature, dangerous, and impossibly sharp. His tailored charcoal suit clung perfectly to a broad, athletic frame, hinting at the powerful physique hidden beneath the expensive fabric. His dark, midnight-black hair was styled with immaculate precision, just long enough for a few rogue strands to frame a forehead that screamed intellect and authority. His jawline looked like it had been chiseled straight from a block of fine granite, dusted with a shadow of immaculate grooming.

Elena froze mid-step, her heart slamming against her ribs with an entirely new, terrifying kind of panic.

A sudden, scorching heat rushed up her neck, flooding her cheeks with a deep, furious blush. She was supposed to hate him. She was supposed to be revolted. She had spent the last two hours building a fortress of rage in her mind, preparing to look down on a greedy old man.

Instead, a massive, undeniable crush hit her like a physical blow to the chest.

Her skin tingled everywhere the heavy silk of her dress brushed against her body. He wasn't a relic; he was a god.

Alexander stood entirely still, exuding an aura of pure, absolute power that commanded the entire room. He didn't smile. He didn't look pleased. He didn't show even a flicker of the slimy satisfaction she had expected from a man who had just bought a twenty-year-old girl.

He slowly raised his head, adjusting the cufflink on his left wrist with a casual, agonizingly slow motion. Then, his piercing, ice-cold gray eyes snapped upward, locking directly onto hers.

His expression remained totally unreadable, frozen in a mask of flawless, professional indifference. Elena felt her breath catch in her throat, trapped under the weight of his freezing, beautiful gaze.