Lila Hart's knees trembled.
Alexander Knight's command—"Beg for it. On your knees."—echoed in her head, each word slicing through the heavy silence of his penthouse study.
The air between them crackled with tension.
His fury, sharpened by the new article linking her to Ethan Caldwell, was a storm barely contained behind his cold, blue eyes.
She had come here to beg—to plead for her family's survival, their debts crushing them more each day.
Instead, his demand for submission had twisted her desperation into something darker.
Two years ago, she had saved this man from a burning wreck, dragging him from the flames with her own bloodied hands.
That single moment had bound her to him ever since.
A savior turned captive.
A contract turned chain.
Now, even as she hated him, something inside her shifted.
Something hot and unwanted.
A pull she couldn't fight.
Alexander stepped forward, his presence filling every inch of space.
"You think you can play games with Caldwell?" he growled, his voice low, dangerous.
His hand caught her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze—those piercing eyes that had haunted her since that night in the rain.
"You're mine, Lila. No one else gets to touch you."
His thumb brushed her lower lip.
The contact sent a shiver through her, her pulse skittering out of control.
She pushed his hand away, voice trembling. "I'm not playing games. I just—" her breath hitched, "I just want to save my family. You promised to help."
His smile curved, slow and dangerous.
He stepped closer until her back brushed the edge of the desk.
"I will help," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear, "but you'll have to earn it."
His fingers slid to her waist, tracing the fabric of her blouse before dipping lower, grazing her hip.
Heat rushed through her veins.
She hated that her body reacted—that her breath caught, that her thighs pressed together at the ghost of his touch.
"Stop," she whispered, but her hands betrayed her—gripping his shirt, holding on when she should have pushed him away.
His scent wrapped around her—sandalwood, smoke, danger.
The same scent that haunted her dreams.
And for one terrible second, she imagined what it would be like to stop fighting it.
To fall into the fire of him.
To give in completely.
The thought terrified her.
But it thrilled her, too.
Then—the soft ding of the elevator broke the spell.
Alexander's grip tightened, then fell away as the doors slid open.
A guard stepped out, followed by Ethan Caldwell.
Ethan's eyes—warm, steady hazel—locked onto Lila immediately.
He looked nothing like Alexander: no sharpness, no cruelty, just quiet determination.
"Lila," he said, voice calm but urgent. "I need to talk to you. Alone."
Alexander turned, his laugh low and lethal. "She's not going anywhere with you, Caldwell."
He moved to block him, but Lila stepped between them, heart pounding so hard she thought they could hear it.
"Let him speak," she said, her voice surprisingly steady.
Alexander's jaw clenched.
His silence was a warning.
His eyes, pure fire.
Ethan didn't flinch.
He looked at her as though she was the only person in the room.
"I've been fighting to free you from him," Ethan said softly. "Because I care about you—more than I should."
His gaze held hers, unwavering.
"I'm falling for you, Lila. Let me take you away from this. Away from him."
The world tilted.
Her breath caught.
Behind her, Alexander's face darkened, rage burning through his calm mask.
The room pulsed with danger—two men, one chain, and her heart caught between them.
And in that moment, she knew this wasn't just jealousy anymore.
This was war.