The Tycoon's Unwanted Contract Wife

Gregorio took a step forward. His tall frame completely blocked the exit. The air around him felt heavy, suffocating.

"What are you doing here?" Gregorio demanded. His voice was dangerously quiet. "Kiersten, what is this? Why did you arrange to meet my wife behind my back?"

Kiersten reached them before Annabel could speak. She slipped her arm through Gregorio's, pressing her chest against his bicep.

"Greg, don't be mad," Kiersten said softly, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "I asked her to meet me. I wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding this morning. I felt terrible."

Gregorio didn't look at Kiersten. His eyes bored into Annabel. He didn't believe a word of it.

He reached out. His large hand clamped down on Annabel's wrist. He jerked her forward, pulling her away from the lobby doors.

The sudden, violent motion caught Annabel off guard. She stumbled. The collar of her wool coat slipped off her shoulder. The silk scarf around her neck loosened and fell away.

The harsh lobby lights illuminated her bare skin.

Dark, angry purple bruises covered her collarbone and the side of her neck. The bite marks from the night before were glaringly obvious.

The lobby went dead silent.

Kiersten's fake smile vanished. Her eyes locked onto the marks, her face turning rigid.

Dorian stepped forward. His medical instincts overrode his hesitation. He frowned, his eyes scanning the bruises.

"Annabel," Dorian said, his voice serious. "Are you safe at home? If you need help, or if someone is hurting you, you can tell me."

Annabel panicked. She yanked her coat back up, her face burning with humiliation. She couldn't look at Dorian.

"I'm fine," she stammered. She needed to change the subject. Fast. "Dr. Martin, actually... I wanted to ask you about the experimental cardiac therapy you published last month. Could you look at my mother's chart?"

Dorian's expression softened. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a sleek business card. "Of course. Call my private line anytime."

Annabel reached out to take it.

Before her fingers could touch the paper, Gregorio's hand shot out. He didn't swat the card away; instead, his large hand clamped down firmly around Annabel's wrist. With an unquestionable, bruising force, he yanked her backward, hauling her behind his broad back. He stood between her and Dorian, his chest heaving.

"I'll handle her affairs. Stay away from my wife," Gregorio snarled. The possessiveness in his voice was raw and violent.

Dorian blinked, completely taken aback by the sudden territorial aggression. "Greg, I'm just offering medical advice."

"She doesn't need your advice," Gregorio snapped. "You will take over Hilary Alston's case immediately. The Harrison family will cover every cent. Move her to the best private facility in the state by tonight."

He didn't wait for Dorian's response. He ignored Kiersten calling his name.

Gregorio gripped Annabel's arm and dragged her out the revolving doors.

He shoved her into the back of the waiting Maybach and climbed in after her. He slammed the door so hard the heavy vehicle shook.

The car sped away from the curb.

Gregorio reached out and grabbed her chin. His fingers dug into her jaw, forcing her to look at him.

"Listen to me," he said through gritted teeth. "As long as you wear my ring, you do not beg other men for help. You do not look at other men. Do you understand?"

Tears of frustration welled in Annabel's eyes. "You have no right to control how I save my mother."

Gregorio let out a harsh, mocking laugh. He pulled out his phone and hit a speed dial number.

"Transfer Hilary Alston to the Oakwood Private Sanctuary," he ordered his executive assistant. "Now. Put her under maximum security."

He hung up and tossed the phone onto the seat.

He leaned in close. His nose almost brushed hers. "Your life, and your mother's life, belong to me now. You don't make a single move without my permission."

Annabel squeezed her eyes shut. The leather seat felt like a cage. She was completely trapped.