Rome's POV

I couldn't sleep. Again.

The nightmares had been getting worse since she arrived. Lola Nightwood with her defiant eyes and stubborn refusal to break under my cruelty.

I made sure to make her life miserable, criticizing everything she did but she just accepted everything, didn't even flinch once.

I wheeled myself down the hallway, intending to go to my office for another sleepless night of work since I couldn't sleep, when I saw the door slightly ajar. Light spilled into the corridor.

Someone was in my office.

I approached silently, my wheelchair barely making a sound on the marble floor. Through the crack in the door, I could see her—Lola, frantically searching through my desk drawers.

My blood boiled. How dare she?

I watched for a moment as she rifled through my personal documents, her hands shaking. She was looking for something specific. When she reached the locked bottom drawer, I'd seen enough.

"Looking for something specific?"

She froze like a deer caught in headlights. I rolled forward slowly, savoring the fear that flashed across her face before that familiar defiance returned.

"I... I was..."

"You were snooping through my office and personal documents." I kept my tone conversational, almost amused. "After I specifically told you that this room was off-limits."

I continued forward, watching as she backed away instinctively until she was trapped against my desk. Exactly where I wanted her.

"I'm sorry," she said breathlessly. "I just... I needed to know—"

"Know what?" I stopped inches from her legs, close enough to smell her skin, her fear mixed with something else. Something that made my pulse quicken.

She hesitated, and I could see her mind working, trying to come up with a lie.

"Why you decided to marry me?"

I gripped the armrests of my wheelchair until my knuckles turned white. She wanted to play games?

"You seem to enjoy hearing that story."

"I just wanted to confirm what my aunt…"

"I don't give a damn what your aunt said." The words came out as a growl.

"You want to know why I married you? Because my father ordered it."

I leaned forward, bringing my face inches from hers. I could see her pulse racing in her throat, could feel the heat radiating from her body.

"And you want to know why I haven't thrown you out yet?" My voice came out rough, hungry in a way I hadn't intended. "Because you're the first woman who's looked at me with fire in her eyes instead of pity or fear."

This close, I could see every detail of her face. The way her lips parted slightly, the flush creeping up her neck, the way her eyes darkened despite her fear.

"I'm not afraid of you," she murmured.

Those words hit me like a physical blow. She should be terrified. Everyone else was.

"You should be."

My hand lifted almost of its own accord, hovering near her face. I wanted to touch her, to feel if her skin was as soft as it looked. The air between us crackled with tension so thick I could barely think straight.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of," I said softly, more to remind myself than her.

But instead of backing down, she tilted her chin up, meeting my gaze with pure defiance. "Then show me."

Something snapped inside me. The careful control I'd maintained shattered as I stared at her lips, imagining what they would feel like under mine. For a moment, I wanted nothing more than to close that distance, to taste her, to make her gasp my name.

The thought terrified me.

I forced my cold mask back into place, shoving down the hunger that threatened to consume me.

"Get out before I do something we'll both regret."

She slipped around my wheelchair, her legs shaking. At the door, she paused.

"Rome?"

I couldn't look at her. Couldn't trust myself.

"Sorry for sneaking into your office."

Only after I heard her footsteps disappear up the stairs did I allow myself to breathe.

I sat there for a long time, my hands clenched into fists, trying to process what had just happened.

She was getting too close. Too curious.

And when she'd stood there, trapped against my desk with that defiant look in her eyes, I'd wanted nothing more than to kiss that smart mouth silent and listen to her gasp.

Which was exactly the problem.

Lola Nightwood was supposed to be my charity case, someone I would rule, own. Instead, she was becoming something else entirely.

Something dangerous. Something I couldn't accept.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a familiar number.

"It's me," I said when it was answered. "We have a problem.”

*********

"You're late."

Victor Ryder sat behind his desk like a king on his throne, his silver hair perfectly styled, his suit custom-tailored to perfection. At fifty-eight, my father was still an imposing man with eyes that could kill.

I wheeled into his office, noting the way he didn't even glance at my wheelchair. To him, weakness was unforgivable, even in his own son.

"Traffic," I said simply.

"Sit."

I was already sitting, but I didn't point that out. He gestured to the chair across from his desk; a gesture meant to humiliate me even more.

I stayed where I was.

Victor's mouth tightened, but he continued. "How is married life treating you?"

"The girl is... adequate."

"Adequate?" Victor's eyebrows rose. "Son, we're not talking about a housekeeper. Lola Nightwood is going to make us very, very rich."

He slid a folder across the desk. I flipped it open, scanning the financial documents inside. My blood ran cold.

"Fifty billion?" I looked up sharply. "Her trust fund is worth fifty billion dollars?"

"Her parents were smarter than I gave them credit for," Victor said with undisguised satisfaction

"They diversified their investments, played the long game. Every stock option, every real estate purchase, every business venture they made struck gold."

The pieces clicked into place. "That's why you wanted me to marry her."

"Of course that's why." Victor's voice turned cold. "Did you think this was about love? About second chances? You're a cripple, Rome. Your romantic prospects are already limited."

The casual cruel words shouldn't have surprised me anymore. I was used to it.

"The girl turns twenty-four in eleven months," Victor continued. "On that day, she gains access to one of the largest private fortunes in the world. As her husband, you'll have a legal claim to half of it."

"And if she refuses to share?"

His smile was cunning and sardonic

"Then you'll have to be very persuasive, won't you?"

The threat made my stomach turn. "What exactly are you asking me to do?"

"Whatever it takes." He replied leaning back in his chair. "Seduce her. Impregnate her. Break her will if necessary. But by her twenty-fourth birthday, I want legal documentation giving us access to that trust fund."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you'll find yourself cut off from the family fortune, disowned, and left to fend for yourself in that wheelchair." He replied his eyes glittering with contempt

. "How long do you think you'd last on your own, son?"

I thought of Lola, of the way she'd stood up to Laura, of the fire in her eyes when she'd confronted me in my office. My father really did underestimate me and her as well.

"Eleven months, isn't it?" I said finally.

"Eleven months," He replied with a subtle nod.

I wheeled around to leave, my face hardened with rage.

"Oh, and Rome? Make the marriage public. I want announcements in every major newspaper, every society magazine. The business world needs to know that the Ryder family has just acquired a very…valuable asset."