His Unwanted Fiancé Is A Genius Heiress

The blinding Manhattan morning sun sliced through the gaps in the heavy blackout curtains, hitting Karmen's face like a physical blow. She flinched, her eyelids heavy with the toxic residue of cheap champagne and forced smiles. Her mouth tasted like copper and ash. Without opening her eyes, Karmen shifted on the massive mattress. She reached out to stretch her cramped muscles. Her fingertips brushed against something solid. An unexpectedly warm expanse of skin. It was a chest. Hard, rigid muscle wrapped in taut skin. Her heart slammed against her ribs, a violent thud that sent a rush of ice-cold adrenaline straight to her fingertips. Karmen's eyes snapped open. Less than two feet away lay Earl Calderon. His face, usually a mask of terrifying corporate calculation, was relaxed in sleep. The sharp line of his jaw, the straight nose, the dark lashes resting against his cheek-it was a face that commanded boardrooms and destroyed rivals. The memories of last night's engagement party crashed into her skull. The flashing cameras. The nauseating toasts. The forced proximity to maintain the illusion of this grotesque business merger. Karmen immediately looked down at her own body. Panic clawed at her throat. The oversized, custom-tailored men's dress shirt was still fully buttoned to her collarbone. Beneath it, the tight, suffocating compression binder gripped her ribs, flattening her chest into a masculine plane. Everything was intact. She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Her lungs burned. She needed to get out of this bed. Now. Karmen shifted her weight, pressing her palms into the mattress to silently slide toward the edge. A single mattress spring groaned. A microscopic sound. Earl's thick eyebrows snapped together. Before Karmen could freeze, his eyes opened. There was no morning haze in his gray-blue irises. Only absolute, freezing hostility. They locked onto Karmen like a predator calculating a kill. Earl didn't move his body, but his gaze dragged across Karmen's face. A flicker of profound, somatic disgust instantly crossed his features, his throat bobbing as if holding back bile. His eyes then stopped abruptly on her left cheek. Right where the grotesque, jagged silicone scar stretched from her cheekbone to her jawline. The fake remnant of a car crash that defined her twin brother's ruined life only amplified his relentless contempt. He threw the heavy duvet off his body and stood up in one violently fluid motion. He was fully dressed in his trousers and a wrinkled dress shirt. His massive height instantly swallowed Karmen in a dark, suffocating shadow. "Don't flatter yourself, Kem," Earl's voice was a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated in the quiet room. "Last night was for the press. If you ever think about crossing that line, I will break your neck." Karmen's fingernails dug so hard into her palms that she felt the skin break. The humiliation burned like acid in her stomach. But she couldn't be Karmen right now. She had to be Kem. The useless, scarred, degenerate playboy. She forced her facial muscles to relax into a lazy, punchable smirk. She reached up, subtly pressing two fingers against her throat to ensure the micro-voice modulator patch was flush against her vocal cords. She let out a slow, mocking whistle. "Relax, Calderon," Karmen drawled, the modulator twisting her voice into a raspy, arrogant baritone. "You're acting like a terrified virgin. I have standards, too." A muscle feathered violently along Earl's jawline. Before Karmen could blink, Earl lunged. His large hand clamped into the collar of her dress shirt, twisting the fabric tight. He slammed her backward. Karmen's shoulder blades hit the solid oak bedpost with a bone-jarring thud. The air was knocked from her lungs. Earl leaned in, his face inches from hers. The sharp, cold scent of cedarwood and expensive scotch invaded her nostrils. Her stomach plummeted. She fought the physical urge to tremble, locking her knees to stay standing. "Listen to me, you piece of trash," Earl whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "If you do anything to stain the Calderon name, I will personally ensure your trust fund is drained to zero. You won't have a dime left to fund your pathetic European vacations." A sharp, authoritative knock echoed from the suite door. The sound shattered the tension. Earl's upper lip curled in revulsion. He released her collar, shoving her slightly as he stepped back. He wiped his hand against his trousers, as if touching her had physically contaminated him. Karmen leaned against the bedpost, her chest heaving as she quickly smoothed down her crumpled collar, hiding the terror shaking her hands. Earl stalked to the door and yanked it open. Alistair Finch, the Calderon family's chief butler, stood in the hallway. His posture was impeccably straight, his expression entirely blank. He held a silver tray bearing a single cup of black coffee. Alistair ignored the suffocating hostility radiating from Earl. "Good morning, sir. Good morning, Mr. Bartlett," Alistair said smoothly, his eyes never meeting Karmen's. "Madam Augusta has issued a new directive regarding the upcoming quarter." Earl snatched the coffee cup. "Speak." "To stabilize the fluctuating stock prices following the engagement announcement, Madam Augusta requires a public display of unity," Alistair pulled a thick, cream-colored itinerary card from his breast pocket. "You are mandated to have a private, four-hour meeting with Mr. Bartlett every two weeks. No exceptions." Earl's grip on the porcelain cup tightened until his knuckles turned stark white. "Tell my grandmother I don't have time to play house with a disfigured parasite," Earl spat. "The board has already approved the measure, sir," Alistair replied, his tone polite but laced with titanium. "Madam Augusta implied that if you refuse, the budget for your Aegis AI project will be immediately frozen." The temperature in the room plummeted. Earl's eyes darkened to the color of a storm, locking onto Alistair with lethal intent. Standing by the bed, Karmen's breath hitched. Aegis AI. The name sent a jolt of electricity down her spine. That was the core. That was the exact system she needed to infiltrate to save Nexus Dynamics. Earl ground his teeth together. The sound was audible in the quiet room. "Fine," Earl snarled. "Tell her I agree to her ridiculous terms." Alistair bowed perfectly. "I will inform her, sir. Have a pleasant morning." The door clicked shut. The silence that followed was deafening. Earl slowly turned his head. He looked at Karmen like she was a rotting carcass on the side of the road. "Get out of my sight," he commanded. Karmen didn't say a word. She grabbed the tailored men's suit jacket draped over the sofa. She slung it over her shoulder with practiced, careless arrogance. She walked toward the door, her leather shoes clicking against the hardwood floor. Just before she turned the brass handle, Karmen glanced back over her shoulder. She flashed Earl a perfect, hollow smile. Her heart was still racing, but her mind was already calculating. Two weeks. Four hours. It was a death sentence, but it was also the exact key she needed to break into his life. She pulled the door open and stepped into the hallway.