The Ruby Shackle: Bound To The Billionaire
I’m a CIA operative known as "The Auditor," and for months, I’ve played the role of a pathetic, abused ward in Basil Dean’s mansion. My mission was simple: gather intel on a paranoid billionaire while pretending to be a girl who flinches at her own shadow and knows nothing of the world.
The balance shattered when Basil found a photo of me smiling at a local mechanic. He didn't just get angry; he dragged me into his soundproof vault, his leather-gloved thumb pressing into my carotid artery to feel the frantic, terrified thrum of my heart.
He tagged me with a ruby bracelet—a high-tech tracking device that reported my GPS and biometrics to his phone every second. His stepsister, Corine, smelled blood in the water, accusing me of theft while Basil watched my heart rate spike on his screen like a lab rat in a cage. I was trapped in a gilded nightmare, forced to scrub floors and endure his predatory stares while a fifty-thousand-dollar shackle recorded my every breath.
I couldn't tell if he was a grieving recluse or a shark playing with his food, but every time my signal dropped, he was there, looming in the shadows, waiting for me to slip up. I was drowning in a game where the rules changed every time I tried to fight back, and the agency was starting to think I’d turned.
To end the charade, I handed the bracelet back to him in front of the entire kitchen staff, a public rejection of his twisted ownership. Basil didn't blink; he took a heavy meat mallet and smashed the ruby to dust right in front of me before making a phone call that turned my mission into a death trap.
"Get the prenup ready," he hissed, his eyes burning with a terrifying, sane obsession.
"I'm marrying her."
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Chapter 7
The Grand Hall was a sea of silk and diamonds.
Corine Morrow glided through the crowd. She wore a dress made of emerald silk that looked like liquid money. As the hostess, she was in her element, a shark in her own aquarium.
She found her mother near the champagne tower.
"Eleanor, darling," Corine purred, kissing the air near her mother's cheek.
Eleanor stiffened. "Corine. I see you're enjoying the party."
"Immensely. But where is Basil?"
"He's around."
Basil descended the grand staircase. He wore a tuxedo that fit him like armor. He looked bored. Dangerous.
Corine intercepted him at the bottom of the stairs.
"Basil. You look... alive."
"Corine." He didn't stop walking.
"I saw something interesting at the gate," Corine said, matching his pace. "Our little ward. The mousey one. She was wearing a bracelet."
Basil stopped. He turned to her slowly.
"A Pigeon Blood Ruby," Corine continued, her voice carrying over the low hum of the party. "Vintage setting. Looked remarkably like the Dean family collection."
Eleanor appeared at Basil's elbow. "What? A servant wearing family jewels? That's theft."
"I gave it to her," Basil said. His voice was ice.
"You gave a charity case a fifty-thousand-dollar bracelet?" Corine laughed. "What exactly does she do for you, Basil? Polish the silver, or something else?"
Heads were turning.
Audie was watching from the gallery above. She heard every word.
She was trapped. If Eleanor investigated, she'd see the tracker. If Corine kept digging, she'd find the truth.
Audie ran back to her room. She tore through her first aid kit.
She found a roll of beige medical tape.
She wrapped her wrist. Layer after layer, covering the gold, covering the ruby, until it looked like a thick, clumsy bandage for a sprain.
She grabbed a bucket and a mop. She smeared some soot from the fireplace on her cheek.
She walked down the back stairs and into the edge of the ballroom.
"There she is!" Corine pointed.
Audie shrank back, holding the bucket.
Corine marched over. "Let's see it."
Audie held up her taped wrist. She sniffled. She pointed at the stairs, then at her wrist, then made a falling motion, her face a pantomime of pained apology.
Corine narrowed her eyes. "I saw a ruby."
Audie looked confused, then pointed at a nearby chandelier, then back at her wrist, as if to suggest it was merely a reflection.
"Unwrap it," Corine commanded. She reached out.
Basil stepped between them. He blocked Corine's hand.
"Enough," he said. "You're making a scene, Corine. And you're boring me."
He offered his arm to Corine. "Dance with me. Or leave."
Corine looked at Basil, then at Audie. She smiled. She knew she had hit a nerve.
"I'd love to dance."
She took Basil's arm. As they walked onto the floor, Corine looked back over her shoulder at Audie.
It wasn't a look of defeat. It was a look of target acquisition.
Audie clutched her bucket. Her wrist throbbed beneath the tape.
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9.4
"I'm terribly sorry my champagne found your face so magnetic, Captain."
Theodore Ashford does not get angry. No - he smiles. Slow. Amused. Dangerous.
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Beatrice Whitmore died once already.
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8.3
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