Trapped By The Ruthless Billionaire Heir

Adelia forced her legs to move. She smoothed down her dress, wiped the stray tear from her cheek, and walked back into the banquet hall on unsteady feet. Her fingers were ice cold, and she pressed them against her sides to stop them from shaking. The moment she stepped through the doors, the atmosphere shifted. The crowd had parted, forming a path toward the raised stage at the far end of the room. A single spotlight cut through the dim lighting, illuminating the center of the stage. Kain stood there, his hand clasped firmly around Baylee Lawrence's. Baylee was radiant in a gown of shimmering silver, her blonde hair swept up in an elegant twist. Her smile was perfect, practiced, and utterly triumphant. On her left hand, the diamond caught the light. It was massive, a glittering rock that screamed old money and new promises. Augustus McMahon, the family patriarch, stepped up to the microphone. "It is my great honor," he boomed, his voice thick with pride, "to announce the engagement of my grandson, Kain, to the lovely Baylee Lawrence." The room erupted. Guests rose to their feet, applause thundering through the space. Flashbulbs went off like strobe lights, capturing the perfect couple, the perfect moment. Adelia stood frozen in the corner. Her heart felt like it had been hit by a sledgehammer, but not with grief. With relief. A wave of lightness washed over her, so intense it made her dizzy. She looked at the couple on stage-Kain, tall and handsome in his tuxedo; Baylee, beautiful and beaming. They looked like a magazine cover. They looked like a future. Which meant her nightmare was over. Kain was engaged. He was going to marry a woman of his own class, a woman his family approved of. That meant this-whatever this twisted thing between them was-had to end. No more secret meetings. No more threats. No more being dragged into dark corridors. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. A bitter smile touched her lips. She was free. As the final speeches wrapped up and the crowd began to disperse, Adelia made her move. She didn't look toward the stage. She didn't wait for the congratulations or the toasts. She walked straight for the exit. She wasn't going to the penthouse. Not tonight. Not ever again. She pushed through the revolving doors and stepped out into the cool autumn night. The air smelled of exhaust fumes and roasted nuts from a nearby cart. It was the smell of the city, the smell of freedom. She hurried to the curb, raising her hand to the doorman. "Taxi, please." "Right away, ma'am." She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see Kain looming in the doorway. But the entrance was clear. She was going to make it. She was going to get in that cab, go back to her apartment, and never look back. A black Cadillac Escalade glided silently to the curb, cutting off the taxi that had been pulling over. The tinted rear window rolled down with a soft hum. The face of Kain's head of security stared back at her. His expression was blank, polite, and utterly immovable. "Miss Davidson," he said. "Please get in." Adelia took a step back, her heart leaping into her throat. "No. I'm taking a cab." The security door opened, and a large man stepped out. He didn't touch her, but he positioned himself between her and the waiting taxi, his bulk blocking her path. His movements were efficient, trained. People on the sidewalk were starting to stare. A couple in evening wear whispered to each other, their eyes darting between Adelia and the SUV. The last thing she needed was a scene. The last thing she needed was for someone to recognize her, to start asking questions. She bit her lip so hard she tasted copper. She had no choice. She reached for the handle of the Escalade's rear door and yanked it open. The interior was dark, lit only by the glow of the city lights filtering through the tinted glass. Kain sat in the far corner, his long legs stretched out. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone. He held a folder open on his lap, his eyes scanning the documents inside. He didn't look up. He didn't even blink. Adelia slid into the seat beside him. The door slammed shut behind her, and the heavy thunk of the automatic locks engaging echoed in the silence. They were sealed in. The car pulled away from the curb, merging seamlessly into the Manhattan traffic. The noise of the city-the honking horns, the wailing sirens-faded to a distant hum, cut off by the thick glass and armored doors. Adelia stared straight ahead, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. The brief flicker of hope she had felt was gone, extinguished like a candle in a hurricane. That fleeting illusion of freedom, the desperate belief that his engagement meant an end to her nightmare, was crushed instantly by the iron band of his arm. "Why aren't you with your fiancée?" she asked, her voice tight. Kain finally moved. He closed the folder and set it aside. Then he turned his head, his cold blue eyes sweeping over her face, taking in her rigid posture, her clenched jaw. "And what did you think?" he countered, his voice low and mocking. "That an engagement changes something?" Adelia shivered. There was no guilt in his tone. No hesitation. Just the same cold certainty that always made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff. He reached out. His hand closed around her arm, his grip unbreakable. He pulled her across the leather seat, dragging her until she was pressed against his side. He forced her head down onto his shoulder, his arm wrapping around her like a shackle. It wasn't an embrace. It was a reclamation. It was the way a man handles an object that belongs to him. "The rules haven't changed," he murmured into her hair. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble. "You're still mine."