Chapter 5

Elena's POV

I stared at Arthur across that massive desk, feeling the weight of his offer settle over me like a net I couldn't quite see the edges of.

My own lab. Real funding. A team I could choose myself.

It was perfect. Too perfect.

And that was exactly the problem.

"I appreciate the offer."

I said carefully, watching his expression for any flicker of reaction.

There was nothing—just that same controlled neutrality that made him impossible to read.

"But I can't accept it."

Arthur's eyebrow lifted slightly, the only indication that I'd surprised him.

"Why not?"

I took a breath, trying to find words that wouldn't sound ungrateful or stupid.

"Because I've already sold you one thing, Arthur. I'm not selling you another."

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

"I'm offering you a career opportunity, Elena. Not asking you to sell anything."

"I know it means that," I shot back.

"I've already—" The words stuck in my throat, humiliating and true. "I've already used my body to solve my problems once. I'm not doing it again. Not for money, not for a lab, not for anything."

For a moment, something flickered in Arthur's eyes—something that might have been hurt, or anger, or both. Then it was gone, replaced by something colder.

"Is that what you think this is about?" His voice was quiet, controlled, but there was an edge to it I hadn't heard before.

"You think I'm trying to buy your compliance with a lab?"

"Aren't you?"

"No, Elena. I'm trying to give you what you deserve. What you've earned. What those incompetent managers at Aegis have been too threatened by your talent to ever let you have."

I wanted to believe him.

God, I wanted to believe that this was about recognizing my work, about giving me a real chance.

But I'd learned the hard way that nothing in my life came without strings attached.

"I can't," I said quietly. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I need to know that when I finally build something worth building, it's because I did it myself. Not because I married the right person or slept with the right investor or—"

"Because you can't let go of Julian."

The words hit me like a slap. I stared at Arthur, genuinely confused. "What?"

"You think I turned down your offer because of Julian?" I couldn't quite process the leap in logic. "Arthur, that's insane. Julian has nothing to do with this."

My pulse was hammering now, and I couldn't tell if it was anger or something else entirely.

"It means I made a business decision. The same business decision we both made when we signed that contract."

"Business," Arthur repeated, and there was something bitter in the way he said it. "Right. Business. That's just business."

I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that I was doing exactly what we'd agreed to. But before I could get the words out, his other hand came up to cup my jaw, tilting my face up toward his.

"I'm going to make something very clear," he said, and there was no mistaking the edge in his voice now. "I don't care if you love me. I don't care if you ever love me. But you're going to be a good wife, Elena. You're going to let me take care of you, you're going to accept what I give you, and you're going to stop acting like every kindness is some kind of trap."

"Arthur—"

He kissed me before I could finish the protest, hard and claiming and nothing like the controlled touches from last night.

This was possessive, almost desperate, and I could feel the tension thrumming through him as his hand slid from my jaw to the back of my neck.

I should have pushed him away. Should have reminded him that we were in his office, that anyone could walk in, that this wasn't what we'd agreed to.

But my body had other ideas.

My hands came up to grip his shoulders, and I was kissing him back before I could think better of it, before I could remember all the reasons this was a terrible idea.

His other hand found my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I could feel the hard line of his body through the thin fabric of my dress.

"Arthur," I managed to gasp when he pulled back just enough to let me breathe. "We can't—not here—"

"Yes," he said roughly, already reaching for the zipper at the back of my dress.

"Here. Now. Because you need to understand that this isn't just a transaction, Elena. This isn't just a contract you can file away and forget about."

The zipper gave way with a soft hiss, and his hands were on my skin, warm and demanding and impossible to ignore. I should have stopped him—God, I should have stopped him—but instead I was arching into his touch, my breath coming in short gasps as he pushed the dress off my shoulders.

"You're mine," he murmured against my throat, and there was something almost raw in his voice. "For three years, you're mine. And I'm going to make damn sure you don't forget it."

His mouth found the pulse point at the base of my neck, and I couldn't stop the small sound that escaped me.

My hands were in his hair now, pulling him closer even as some distant part of my brain screamed that this was wrong, that we were in his office, that this wasn't professional or appropriate or any of the things it should be.

But Arthur didn't seem to care about appropriate.

He lifted me onto the edge of his desk with an ease that should have been alarming, his hands sliding up my thighs with clear intent. The cool wood pressed against the backs of my legs, a sharp contrast to the heat of his touch.

"Tell me to stop," he said, but his fingers were already hooking into the lace at my hips. "Tell me you don't want this."

I opened my mouth, fully intending to do exactly that. To tell him this was insane, that we needed to slow down, that I wasn't ready for whatever this was becoming.

But what came out instead was: "Don't stop."