The moment the black truck slowed to a crawl, Elena's heart didn't just beat; it lunged against her ribs like a trapped bird. The tint on the windows was dark, but the aura radiating from the vehicle was unmistakable. It was a predatory, heavy energy that belonged to only one man in the world.
As the door swung open and a heavy boot crunched onto the gravel, Elena's survival instinct screamed. She didn't think; she didn't breathe. She simply spun on her heel. Despite the "lame" hitch in her stride and the deep, throbbing ache in her pelvis that reminded her of his beastly possession, she bolted. She scrambled toward the edge of the apple orchard, her sneakers skidding on the fallen fruit and dry leaves.
"Elena! Wait!" Sarah called out, confused, but Elena was already disappearing into the rows of twisted, gnarled trees.
She didn't get far.
A shadow fell over her, swift and terrifyingly efficient. Before she could vanish into the thicket of green, a large, soft hand shot out and wrapped around her upper arm. The grip was firm—not painful, but absolute. It was the grip of a man who had spent the night pinning her to silk sheets, and it sent a jolt of electric terror straight to her core.
"Running again, Elena?"
The voice was a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated through her skin. Elena stopped dead, her shoulders hunched. Slowly, she turned.
Dominic Thorne stood before her, having shed the anonymity of the truck. He had pushed his shades up into his dark hair, and for the first time, he was seeing her in the raw, unapologetic honesty of the afternoon sun. At the estate, the light had been dim, amber, and filtered by lust. Here, under the vast Canadian sky, she was breathtaking.
The sunlight caught the gold in her brown eyes and the stray tendrils of hair escaping her hood. Her skin, though pale and marked by his passion, looked like porcelain. Dominic felt a physical blow to his chest. He had thought her beautiful in the dark, but in the light, she was a masterpiece of defiance and vulnerability.
"Let go of me," Elena hissed, her voice trembling. "You shouldn't be here. You can't be here."
"I go where I please," Dominic countered, his thumb tracing the fabric of her jacket, dangerously close to the bruises he knew were hidden beneath. "We need to talk. Now. Get in the truck."
Elena wrenched her arm, but he held fast. "Talk? About what? It was a one-night stand, Dominic. A transaction. I did the job, you paid the fee. There is no 'talking' after the sun comes up. That was the agreement!"
Dominic's eyes darkened, his jaw shifting. "The agreement changed the moment I realized you lied to me. And the moment I found out your name."
Elena went rigid, her breath hitching. "You... you know my name? How? It's against every rule in the industry for a client to track a companion's details. You're breaking the law, Dominic. You're harassing me."
"I don't follow rules, Elena. I write them," he said, stepping closer until she was forced to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.
Nearby, Sarah had been standing frozen, her eyes darting between the dusty truck and the tall, imposing man holding her friend. At first, she thought he was just another city developer, but as the sunlight hit his face—that sharp, aristocratic nose, the cold gray eyes, and the sheer, arrogant tilt of his head—the realization hit her like a physical weight.
"Oh my god," Sarah whispered, her voice shaking. "You're him. You're Dominic Thorne."
She had seen that face on the news, on the cover of every financial magazine in the country. He was the 'King' the bachelor billionaire who crushed companies for breakfast. And he was standing in a dusty orchard in Creston, clutching Elena as if she were his most prized possession.
Sarah's protective instincts flared. She stepped forward, her hands trembling as she reached for Elena's other side. "Sir... Mr. Thorne... please. You're causing a scene. People are starting to look."
She was right. The fruit sellers and the local farmers were slowing their work, whispering as they took in the sight of the two strangers and the village girl.
"Leave her alone," Sarah said, her voice small but brave. "She's been through enough. Just go back to your city and leave her in peace."
Dominic didn't even look at Sarah. His focus was entirely on Elena, watching the way her chest heaved with panicked breaths. He realized that if he tried to force her into the truck here, she might break—or worse, the entire village would rise up to protect their own.
"I'm not here to discuss the night, Elena," Dominic lied, his voice dropping to a smooth, professional cadence that didn't match the predatory look in his eyes. "I'm here to discuss business. Your father's debts. The loan company that still holds the secondary lien on your north pasture. I'm here as a businessman, nothing more."
Elena looked at him, her eyes narrowing. She knew he was playing a game, using the one thing she cared about—her family's survival—to trap her.
"Business?" she repeated, her voice dripping with skepticism.
"Business," he insisted. "But I won't do it standing in the dirt while the neighbors gossip. If you want to save your land, truly save it, we talk in private."
Elena looked at Sarah, then at the curious eyes of the townspeople. She felt the "plop" of a heavy heart in her chest. She had no choice.
"Fine," Elena whispered, her voice cold as ice. "Not here. At my house. We'll talk there, and then you leave. You leave and you never come back to this province again."
Dominic's grip on her arm loosened, but he didn't pull his hand away completely until she stepped back. A dark, triumphant spark flickered in his eyes.
"Lead the way, Elena," he murmured.
As they walked toward the truck, Marcus held the door open, his face an unreadable mask. Elena felt the weight of the situation crashing down on her. She was bringing the beast into her sanctuary. She was bringing the man who had ruined her body into the home she had sold herself to save.
The drive to the farmhouse was silent and suffocating. Dominic sat in the back with Elena, the space between them crackling with an unspoken, feral tension. He watched her profile—the way she stared out the window, her jaw set, her hand still clutching her jacket. He wanted to reach out and pull her onto his lap right there, to remind her of the way she had cried out for him in the dark, but he restrained himself.
He had to play the businessman for now. But as they pulled into the dusty driveway of the Vance farm, Dominic knew one thing for certain: once those doors closed, the business would be the last thing they talked about.