Married to the Coldest Media King

Dylan bypassed the restrooms and slipped out onto the terrace. The cool night air hit her flushed skin. She leaned against the stone balustrade, closing her eyes.

She had done it. She had survived. But the cost was mounting.

A lighter clicked behind her. The smell of tobacco smoke drifted on the breeze.

She spun around.

Garland was leaning against the wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He looked relaxed, dangerous.

You put on a good show, he said.

Dylan straightened. You owe me a consulting fee. Mcknight stock will dip tomorrow when the IRS opens an inquiry.

Garland chuckled. A low, rumble of a sound. He walked toward her.

You are bold, Dylan. Using my name to scare off creditors. Wearing a dress that mocks the very people you want to accept you. And now, destroying a family's reputation for sport.

It wasn't sport, she said. It was survival.

He stopped in front of her. He was close. Too close. She could smell the whiskey and the smoke and the expensive soap.

I can make it go away, he said softly. Vance. The debts. Ivana.

Dylan looked up at him. What is the price?

Garland reached out and touched the rough fabric of her dress near her shoulder. His fingers brushed her skin, sending a jolt of electricity down her spine.

Marriage, he said. But not the partnership you pitched in my office.

He dropped his hand.

Total submission, Dylan. You sign the prenup as is. No equity. No voting rights. You are an employee. Your job is to be Mrs. Brennan. You smile, you host, and you do exactly what I say. If you step out of line, you are fired. And you leave with nothing.

It was a slave contract. It was humiliating.

But then she thought of her father, crying in his cell. She thought of Grandma Rose and the ring. She thought of the encrypted files on her laptop. This was her way in. The ultimate Trojan horse. Total submission, she thought. Good. A contract this one-sided is legally vulnerable. It borders on duress. Let him think he has all the power. The more arrogant he is, the more mistakes he'll make. In her clutch, her thumb discreetly double-tapped the side of her phone, starting a voice recording.

I... she started.

The terrace doors burst open. A group of drunk investment bankers stumbled out, laughing loudly.

Garland stepped back instantly. The intimacy vanished. The mask was back in place.

Tomorrow morning, 8:00 AM, he said, his voice cold. My office. Bring your ID.

He turned and walked back inside, leaving her alone in the dark.

Dylan shivered. She looked out at the city skyline. It looked like a mouth full of jagged teeth, waiting to chew her up.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Carter.

Ivana just left the building. She took the service elevator to the parking garage. She has her security team. Be careful.

Dylan's stomach dropped. She wasn't safe yet.

She gathered her skirts and ran for the elevator.