Chapter 1: The Stolen Files and the Golden Cage
The Desperate Intern
Aria Sharma's heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the oppressive silence of Elias Thorne's penthouse office—the heart of Thorne Global Acquisitions. It was past midnight.
The air conditioning hummed, but sweat prickled her spine. Her trembling fingers hovered over the keyboard of the massive mahogany desk, illuminated only by the screen's pale glow. Just one more minute. One file.
Her sister's mounting medical bills were a physical weight, pressing down on her lungs until she could barely breathe.
The six-figure sum demanded by the loan shark made this desperate act—stealing a minor, non-critical financial projection report—feel like the only exit. It wasn't to harm the company, just a small leverage point to pressure her superiors for the bonus she desperately needed.
She quickly transferred the encrypted file onto a cheap USB drive. "Got it," she whispered, the relief making her weak-kneed.
Aria spun around, intending to bolt.
She froze.
The Hunter Appears
Elias Thorne stood leaning against the closed, floor-to-ceiling glass door, a silhouette of lethal power against the city lights.
He wore a midnight-blue three-piece suit, tailored impeccably to his daunting physique. His eyes, usually cold, were now glacial, fixed on her like a predator watching his prey.
He didn't move. He didn't need to. His mere presence was enough to suck the air out of the room.
"Leaving so soon, Ms. Sharma?" His voice was a low, dangerous rumble, devoid of any warmth.
Aria's mind raced. Her pulse screamed. The cheap USB drive felt like a loaded weapon in her hand.
"Mr. Thorne," she managed, her voice a reedy whisper. "I... I was just preparing the morning reports."
A faint, chilling smile touched his lips—a smile that promised disaster. "Don't insult my intelligence, Aria. The reports are automated."
He took a slow, deliberate step toward her. "Show me your hand."
Aria clamped her fist shut, hiding the drive. "I don't know what you mean."
He closed the distance in two strides. He didn't touch her, but the sheer force of his proximity pinned her to the spot.
His expensive cologne—a blend of cedar and something impossibly masculine—overwhelmed her senses.
"You are an ambitious girl, Aria. Ambitious girls often make poor decisions when under pressure. Now, give me what you stole." His voice dipped, becoming husky, intimately commanding. "Before I take it myself."
Tears stung her eyes. The shame was a burning brand. She had been caught.
The Unthinkable Proposal
Defeated, she slowly opened her palm and offered the USB.
Elias plucked it from her hand, his long fingers brushing her skin. A sharp jolt of awareness—part fear, part electrifying heat—shot up her arm. He didn't look at the drive. His entire focus was on her face, analyzing her despair.
He tossed the drive onto the desk where it clattered harmlessly.
"The police, a prison sentence, ruining your family's name," he listed, his tone conversational, yet deadly. "Those are the normal consequences. But I dislike normal."
Aria looked up, hope flickering faintly in her chest. "W-what do you want?"
Elias stepped closer, his body heat radiating, pressing her back against the cool edge of the desk. He leaned in until his lips were inches from her ear.
She could feel his breath—warm, minty, intoxicating.
"I need a wife," he whispered, the demand an earthquake in her world. "A publicly presentable one. For six months. No more, no less. A contract marriage."
Aria gasped, the sound ragged. "You... you're joking."
"My grandfather's will is being executed. I need a legitimate heir to secure Thorne Global. A temporary arrangement," he explained, pulling back to look directly into her wide, innocent eyes. "Marry me, and your sister's bills disappear. The debt is settled. You walk away with a guaranteed $5 million after 180 days."
"And if I refuse?"
He smiled the cold, predatory smile again. "You go to jail tonight. Your sister gets nothing. The choice is simple, Aria."
Before she could speak, before she could process the weight of a $5 million bribe and a six-month sentence, he acted.
His hand shot out, not to restrain her, but to cup her chin firmly. He titled her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"You will be mine, in public and in private. No one will suspect this is fake," he murmured. His thumb moved slowly, deliberately, tracing the curve of her lower lip. "The contract ensures your silence, but my touch... my touch will ensure your surrender."
Then, his eyes dropped to her collarbone, and a slow, possessive fire lit up their depths.
"Tonight, you sleep in my bed," he commanded, his voice dropping to a gravelly, demanding tone. "It's not about sex, Aria. It's about control. And you are officially under my control now. Now, take your skirt off. You won't need it where we're going."
Did he just order her to undress? He said it wasn't about sex, but the heat in his eyes told a different, terrifying story. Aria's fingers instinctively tightened on the hem of her pencil skirt. Was she walking into a golden cage or a gilded trap?