Chapter 1

The exclusive Manhattan club reeked of money—a notorious black hole for the wealthy elite to burn through their cash.

Outside a private room, Anastasia Kingsley's slender fingers paused on the doorknob when she heard a familiar voice came out:

"Anastasia? Christ, I'm bored to death with that piece of ass," Jasper Hale drawled, lighting a cigarette and exhaling with a lazy smirk that oozed arrogance.

The private room erupted with his buddies' laughter. "Can't blame you, man—even a perfect rack gets old after you've had your hands on it enough times," snickered Mike, one of Jasper's wall street cronies.

"But seriously, Jasper," chimed in Trevor, swirling his scotch, "you sure about dumping her? Three years is a long time. You practically stalked that girl to get her."

"Yeah," added Derek, already three sheets to the wind, "and Anastasia's body is fucking insane—those legs go all the way up to heaven, and that ass would make a priest sin."

"Why the hell would I keep hitting the same spot?" Jasper scoffed. "I need a girl who knows her place, you know? Like Valeria. She's wet and willing whenever I snap my fingers. Been tapping that sweet little thing for weeks now. All that drama with Anastasia? Like fucking a beautiful iceberg." His bloodshot eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction.

"Holy shit, you're already nailing her stepsister?" Trevor nearly choked on his drink. "That's cold-blooded, even for you!"

"That's how I roll," Jasper bragged, adjusting himself crudely. "Valeria's got that virgin act down pat—gets on her knees like she's praying and begs for it. One 'please daddy' from those lips and I'm ready to go all night," he grinned, making an obscene gesture.

"This is why you're the king, Hale!" Mike raised his glass. "Teaching us how to use 'em and lose 'em! They're all just warm holes when the lights go out anyway."

"But still, her old man might—" Derek started to caution.

The vulgar laughter continued while Anastasia stood frozen outside, gripping the handle so tightly her knuckles turned white. Every disgusting word pierced through the door with perfect clarity.

Jasper's comments sliced through her like shards of glass, each one drawing blood.

She never imagined Jasper would be screwing her stepsister behind her back.

Anastasia drew a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and pushed the door open.

The rowdy room fell instantly silent.

The men exchanged panicked glances, realizing they'd been caught.

Peter Parker, always the quick thinker in Jasper's entourage, immediately tried damage control.

"Ana! Hey! Come join us for a drink!"

Anastasia ignored him completely. She walked straight to Jasper, her gaze cold and level. "We're done, Jasper. For good this time."

Before he could respond, she grabbed a glass of Cabernet from the table and threw it directly in his face, then turned on her heel.

Jasper, dripping with expensive red wine, his white dress shirt ruined, called after her furiously, "Anastasia! If you walk out that door tonight, don't even think about coming back!"

His voice carried the confidence of someone who'd never lost control. Throughout their relationship, he'd always held all the cards.

During those three years, he'd openly flirted with actresses, slept with college girls, even made passes at interns from Hale Industries—and Anastasia had always looked the other way.

They'd broken up and made up countless times, but she invariably came crawling back first.

So now, despite his wine-soaked shirt, Jasper remained smugly certain she was bluffing.

Anastasia hesitated at the threshold. Jasper's face relaxed into a familiar, entitled smile.

Then, without a backward glance, she walked out.Jasper's face froze in disbelief.

Peter muttered, I think she's actually serious this time. Maybe you should go after her."

"Chase after her?" Jasper scoffed, reaching for a napkin to dab at his ruined shirt. "Please. She'll be blowing up my phone before midnight, begging to talk. Why would I bother?" The way he spoke about her sounded like he was describing a particularly stubborn pet.

His friends exchanged looks but said nothing more. History had taught them that whenever the couple fought, Anastasia would be back within the hour, tears in her eyes.

Surely tonight would be no different.

Chapter 2

As Anastasia stormed out of the private room, she collided with someone walking in the opposite direction.

A distinctly masculine scent hit her—sandalwood with hints of amber—sending an unexpected wave of heat through her body.

The man wore a black Tom Ford shirt with the top button undone, revealing a glimpse of his defined collarbone. His tailored black slacks completed the look of understated luxury, his entire presence radiating the confident power of someone who commanded rooms without trying.

The dim hallway lighting carved shadows across his chiseled features—his expression distant, cold, untouchable, yet undeniably magnetic.

As he frowned slightly and prepared to move past her, Anastasia's slender fingers suddenly gripped his shirt sleeve, the expensive fabric smooth beneath her touch.

Her heart raced as his scent clouded her judgment. With the bitter taste of Jasper's betrayal still fresh, a rebellious thought crossed her mind-if Jasper could play dirty, why couldn't she have some fun too?

"Let go," the man commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"No," she replied, deliberately softening her voice to a silky purr, looking up through her lashes.

The man looked down at her, his gaze traveling slowly from her eyes to her lips, a slight curl forming at the edge of his mouth.

"No?" he repeated, leaning in slightly. "You're playing with fire, sweetheart. Sure you can handle the burn?"

"Would you be interested in marrying me?" Anastasia blurted out, her eyes challenging him despite the pink flush spreading across her cheeks.

Even Anastasia thought she'd lost her damn mind.

Yet she was dead serious about finding someone to marry—anyone who could help her escape Jasper's shadow.

Her grandmother, Elisabeth Paige, wasn't getting any younger and desperately wanted to see her settled down. She'd been discussing marriage with Jasper for months, but that ship had clearly sailed—and sunk—now.

Anastasia couldn't bear to break her grandmother's heart, and she needed to slam the door shut on any possibility of crawling back to Jasper.

Any man would be better than that cheating bastard.

The stranger wore no ring. Available, then.

Worth a try, wasn't it?

Plus, he smelled like sin and salvation combined—a scent that made her want to inch closer rather than pull away.

In this moment, despite the alcohol buzzing through her system, her mind felt unusually clear.

The man's expression shifted as his fingertips tilted her chin upward, his touch electric against her skin. His eyes—dark and assessing—took in her flushed cheeks, parted lips, and defiant gaze. She was trouble wrapped in a Valentino dress.

It was her.

"Are you certain about what you're offering?" His thumb brushed lightly across her lower lip. "Do you even know who I am?"

Anastasia's eyes widened in sudden recognition, her body tensing under his touch.

Cassian Rhodes.

Holy shit.

Who was Cassian Rhodes?

Only the most feared name on Wall Street—a financial wunderkind who'd built an empire before thirty, powerful enough to make global markets rise or fall with a single decision.

Cassian Rhodes was New York royalty with looks to match his bank account, with every socialite from Manhattan to Monaco angling for his attention. His business reputation was legendary, his methods ruthless. Anyone foolish enough to cross him professionally needed a new career—in another country.In short, he was the apex predator in a city full of sharks.

Staring at his severe features, Anastasia's confidence wavered. She felt a primal urge to flee.

Their paths had crossed twice before.

Once during a hostile negotiation where she was being professionally cornered—Cassian had intervened with a single cutting remark that silenced the room.

Later, at some charity gala where Jasper had dragged her as arm candy, she'd discovered her mysterious benefactor was Rhodes himself—a man who made billionaires nervous just by entering the room.

Smart people stayed out of Cassian Rhodes' way unless invited in.

Anastasia's pulse quickened. What had she just done?

Had he recognized her from those brief encounters?

But remembering Jasper's crude comments about Valeria, Anastasia straightened her spine and doubled down.

"I'm certain." She deliberately stepped closer, eliminating the space between them. "Completely certain."

Even if she was walking straight into the devil's lair in Christian Louboutins, she wasn't backing down now.

Anastasia wanted to show Jasper that not only could she move on—she could move up.

"I'm dead serious, Mr. Rhodes. This isn't a game." Her voice dropped lower. "Unless you want it to be."

"Isn't it?" His voice dropped lower, fingers still resting against her jawline. "Don't you have a boyfriend? Or am I just your revenge fuck?"

His tone made the crude words sound like poetry.

"I saw you hanging off some trust fund brat at the Guggenheim benefit."

Chapter 3

Anastasia's eyes widened at his blunt assessment. She rushed to explain, momentarily dropping her composed façade.

"God, no—that's not what this is." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Jasper and I are done. Completely done. My grandmother Elisabeth is in her eighties now, and seeing me settled has been her dream forever." She met his gaze directly. "I need someone, and I don't need more time to decide who."

Make Cassian Rhodes her backup plan? She'd rather play Russian roulette with five bullets.

Cassian studied her, his expression giving nothing away while his eyes caught every micro-expression crossing her face.

"You're ready to walk away from him? Just like that?" His tone suggested casual interest, but there was something predatory in his stillness.

"When they're serial cheaters who fuck your stepsister behind your back?" Anastasia's voice turned razor-sharp. "I'd run, not walk."

The conversation she'd overheard had sobered her instantly. The alcohol buzz was gone, replaced by crystal clarity.

After hearing Jasper talk about her like she was disposable, something had snapped permanently.

Cassian's perfect eyebrow arched slightly, something dangerous flickering behind his eyes that made her pulse quicken.

He shifted closer, his designer cologne enveloping her. "Are you absolutely certain this is what you want?" The controlled rasp in his voice sent shivers down her spine.

Her eyes might have been glistening in the dim light, but her voice was steel. "I'm throwing out the trash, and I'm not looking back."

In one fluid movement that she couldn't have anticipated, Cassian's arm slid around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. His lips brushed her ear as he spoke, "You realize what you're starting, don't you, Anastasia?" His breath was warm against her skin. "Once I have something, I don't let it go."

Heat bloomed across her cheeks and spread lower. Her heart hammered so hard she was certain he could feel it where their bodies pressed together. After a breathless moment, she looked up through her lashes. "I'm counting on it."

Common sense had officially left the chat.

"Good." His thumb traced her jawline. "We'll get the license tomorrow." Cassian's tone made it clear this wasn't a discussion—it was happening.

"That fast?" she whispered, caught between excitement and vertigo.

"Second thoughts already?" His lips curved into something not quite a smile. "Or just eager to make it official?"

"No second thoughts." She found herself leaning into his touch. "Would you mind driving me home? I need to get my documentation."

Twenty minutes later, Cassian's sleek black Bentley glided to a stop in front of her Upper East Side brownstone.

Anastasia currently shared the place with her grandmother Elisabeth—her sanctuary after everything had fallen apart.

When her father Sharpson Kingsley had walked out on them for his younger mistress Whitney Stone, he'd torn their family to shreds without a backward glance.

Whitney's daughter had even taken the Kingsley name, becoming Valeria—a constant reminder of what had been stolen.

Anastasia's mother Sheila hadn't been able to handle the betrayal. After a spiral into depression, she'd died in a car accident that Anastasia had always suspected wasn't entirely accidental.

The memory still gutted her. Every time she thought about it, the wound reopened as fresh as the day it happened.

That's why she would never forgive Sharpson. Her mother's death was on his hands.

Anastasia would carry that anger to her grave.

Valeria—three years her junior and freshly graduated with a business degree she'd barely earned—had somehow landed a position at Jasper's company, J&A.

At a company gala weeks earlier, Valeria had performed some sexy dance routine that had every man in the room drooling. That must have been when Jasper's wandering eye had first locked onto her stepsister.

J&A had become one of the industry's most talked-about jewelry brands in recent years, featured in Vogue and worn on red carpets.

That status was undoubtedly why Valeria had maneuvered her way in.

Though Anastasia also worked at J&A, she headed the design department, working mostly in her private studio.

She rarely crossed paths with Jasper during business hours and had zero involvement in HR decisions.

She'd been blindsided at that company party when she'd spotted Valeria schmoozing with executives.

Anastasia hadn't made a scene—she'd severed emotional ties with the Kingsley family years ago.

She just never imagined Jasper would sink to sleeping with her stepsister.

To win approval from Jasper's old-money family, Anastasia had worked herself to exhaustion, proving her worth through talent rather than pedigree. All for nothing.

Her natural gift for design had earned her gold at the prestigious A' Design Award in the Jewelry category—the industry's highest honor.

After falling for Jasper, they'd built J&A together from the ground up.

They'd spent a weekend at the Hamptons brainstorming the company name. The memory now felt like a cruel joke.

"We're here," Cassian's deep voice drew her back from the edge of her thoughts. His hand covered hers briefly—a surprisingly gentle gesture. "It's late—I'll meet Elisabeth properly another time. Wouldn't want to give the lady a shock tonight."

Anastasia blinked, surprised by his consideration. She nodded. "Yeah, that's... thoughtful of you."

"Get some sleep." His eyes traveled over her face as if memorizing it. "I'll send a car at nine tomorrow morning. We're doing this properly."

"Okay." Anastasia found herself responding softly, the fight in her temporarily subdued by his unexpected gentleness.