Eva’s POV

I stood in the kitchen, the faint bruise on my back throbbing from where Daniel had shoved me. My eyes burned from lack of sleep, but I forced myself to make coffee. My hands were trembling just enough that the cup rattled against the counter.

When I carried it to the dining table, he didn’t even look at me. His laptop glowed in front of him, his fingers flying across the keyboard, a cigarette burning low between his fingers.

Then his voice, cold and sharp, cut through the silence.

“You’ll be going out tonight. ”Don’t forget.”

I froze, cup halfway to the table. “Where exactly are we going?”

“A hotel party.” His tone was flat, businesslike, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “Some investors will be there. They’re considering backing my project. I need them… persuaded.”

I blinked at him, confused. “And what use is me being there?”

Finally, his eyes lifted. The look he gave me was deliberate, cruel. “Everything. You’ll go. You’ll drink with them, smile, flatter their egos. If it takes more-” His smirk widened. “-you’ll do more.”

My stomach lurched violently. I clutched the edge of the chair to steady myself. “You want me to…? Daniel, no. You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious,” he said smoothly, leaning back as though this were nothing more than a casual suggestion. “You’re not my wife, Eva. Don’t forget why you’re here. You’re your father’s payment. You’re mine to use as I see fit. So don’t pretend you have a choice.”

The words landed harder than his shove last night. They split me open in places I thought I’d already gone numb.

“I’m not doing this,” I managed, though my voice trembled, betraying me.

His gaze never wavered. “Yes, you are. You owe me that much.”

I wanted to scream. To throw the cup at him. To demand why he kept me if he despised me this much. But behind the anger was the memory of my father’s hollow eyes and my stepmother when they forced me to accept this arrangement.

My throat tightened until it hurt. Still, the words clawed their way out.

“Fine. I’ll go. But after this…this is it. After this, we’re done. You and I, finished.”

Daniel chuckled, a low, cruel sound. “We’ll see.”

………………………….

The next evening, I followed him into the glittering chaos of the hotel lounge. The music was too loud, neon lights casting the room in dizzying flashes of red and gold. Smoke curled in the air, mixing with perfume and liquor until it was hard to breathe.

Daniel’s hand pressed hard against the small of my back, controlliing me like I was a car he was driving. My heels clicked against the marble floor, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The men waiting for us at the table were already flushed from drinking. Their suits looked expensive, but their smiles were greedy. One’s eyes lit up when he saw me.

“So this is the famous fiancée,” he said with a laugh, raising his glass. “Beautiful. Daniel you’ve been hiding her.”

Heat crept up my neck, unwanted, but Daniel only smirked proudly, as though he’d polished me himself.

“Eva,” he said smoothly, “make them feel welcome.”

I forced a polite smile and sat. Glass after glass was pressed into my hand before I could refuse. The men were loud, their laughter booming, their compliments filled with hints at something more.

“You’re too quiet,” one of them teased, fingers brushing the back of my hand as he leaned closer.

“Come on, loosen up,” another said, sliding a full glass toward me.

I laughed weakly. I was already getting sick. Drink after drink, the room began to tilt, my head swimming. Their laughter blurred together, their hands lingered on my body too long. I didn’t know if i could endure it any longer.

The brush of a hand wasn’t accidental. It slid with deliberate boldness, fingers tracing a slow, possessive path across the bare skin of my thigh beneath the tablecloth. The shock of it sent a jolt through me, heat and defiance in my chest. I couldn’t do it anymore.

I pushed back from the chair, legs wobbling. “Excuse me,” I muttered, forcing a shaky smile. “Restroom.”

None of them stopped me. Daniel didn’t even glance up.

I stumbled through the corridors, chest tight, stomach rolling, the floor tilting beneath my feet. My hand grazed the wall as I pushed open the first door I found.

The room was quiet. Cool. Blessedly free of smoke and noise. I took a shaky breath, pressing my back to the wall, trying to steady myself.

But then a voice, sharp and deep, shattered the silence.

“Can’t you watch where you’re going?”

My head jerked up. A man stood there, tall and broad-shouldered, the sharp lines of his suit unwrinkled, his presence filling the space. His eyes locked on me dark, unreadable and dangerous.

My lips parted, breathless. “I…I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t feel well. Please… just let me go.”

I tried to move past him, but my legs buckled. His hand shot out, gripping my wrist, steadying me before I hit the floor. His touch was firm, unyielding.

“Let go,” I whispered again, tugging weakly.

But he didn’t. His eyes searched mine with unsettling curiosity, hesitation… fascination. Like I was something he hadn’t expected, something that didn’t fit into his ordered world.

The nausea surged without warning. My body betrayed me.

I leaned forward, and before I could stop it hot vomit spilled across his shirt.

His curse was sharp, low, venomous. Yet his grip never loosened. Even as my body gave out, even as darkness closed in, he held me upright.

The last thing I saw before the blackness swallowed me was his face. Cold and an unreadable expression.