How it started

Armstrong's POV

Twenty-four hours earlier, I sat in the Velvet Room with Marcus, nursing a glass of 30-year-old Macallan while he droned on about the upcoming charity gala.

"The foundation wants you to bring a date," Marcus said, consulting his tablet. "They've specifically requested that you not attend alone this year. Something about…"

"I heard you the first time." I took a sip. "Find someone suitable."

"Suitable." Marcus's lips twitched. "Sir, your last three dates were models who spent the entire evening on their phones."

"They looked good in photographs."

"But that’s not…”

“Fine. Find a beautiful woman, someone who can hold a conversation. Someone intelligent, charming, who can help me network."

He scrolled through his tablet. "I can reach out to some professional services.."

"Do whatever you need to do."

Marcus sighed. "I'll have options by tomorrow. It's for children's literacy. Good publicity."

"Noted." I dismissed him with a wave.

I was about to order another drink when an agitated man suddenly made his way over. Average height, slightly soft around the middle, worn suit, cheap cologne. Everything about him screamed desperation.

"Excuse me," he said, voice slurred. "You're Armstrong Goldwyn, aren't you? I couldn't help but overhear…you need a date for an event."

My eyes narrowed. I valued my privacy. "Do I know you?"

"No, no. I'm Festy Vale." He stuck out his hand. When I didn't take it, he let it drop awkwardly. "I heard you talking. I know someone perfect for what you need. Beautiful, young, smart. Classy and well-spoken. She'd be perfect on your arm."

I studied him. Desperate. In financial trouble. The kind of man who'd do anything for cash.

"I have people who handle these arrangements," I said dismissively.

"But not like her." He moved closer, lowering his voice. "I'm serious, Mr. Goldwyn. She's exactly what you're looking for. Professional, educated, beautiful. And she's... available. For the right price."

Something in the way he said "available" made me pause.

"What's her name?" Curiosity made me ask.

"Lynn. Lynn Sheldon…well, that was her maiden name. She's my..." He hesitated, and I caught it. "She's someone I can vouch for personally. Completely trustworthy."

"Your what?"

"Does it matter?" His smile was too wide, too eager. "Look, I can have her at your place tomorrow night. You can meet her, see if she's what you're looking for. If she is, we can talk price."

I should have said no. Should have called security. But I'd built my empire on reading people, on understanding their weaknesses and exploiting them.

"How much?"

His eyes lit up. "Four thousand. For the evening."

Insulting. I spent more than that on a suit. But I nodded. "Fine. Have her at the Diamond Tower penthouse tomorrow at eight."

"Can I get fifty percent upfront? Just to secure the arrangement."

I pulled out my wallet and counted out two thousand in cash. He snatched it like a drowning man grabbing a life preserver.

"Thank you, Mr. Goldwyn. You won't regret this. Lynn is perfect. You'll see."

I watched him scurry away, shoving the cash into his pocket. Something about the interaction left a bad taste in my mouth, but I pushed it aside.

Just another desperate fool.

I finished my drink and left, putting the encounter out of my mind.

Until last night.

Now, I looked down at Lynn sleeping in my arms, her dark hair spread across my chest, her breathing soft and even.

Dawn light painted her skin gold, and she looked younger in sleep. Vulnerable.

I replayed yesterday's conversation with Festy Vale, seeing it now with horrifying clarity.

"That was her maiden name."

Maiden name. Because she'd taken his name when they married. Vale. Lynn Vale.

The man had sold his own wife. Sent her to a stranger's penthouse thinking it was a legitimate job, knowing exactly what would happen.

I'd done ruthless things in my career. Crushed competitors. Destroyed people who stood in my way. Built my fortune on being cold and calculating.

But I'd never lied to someone who trusted me. Never betrayed someone who loved me.

Festy Vale had done both.

Lynn stirred against me, and I felt something unfamiliar twist in my chest. Protectiveness. Possessiveness. And underneath both, a burning rage at the man who'd broken her so completely.

Her eyes fluttered open. She looked up at me, confusion giving way to memory, and I saw the exact moment she remembered everything. Her face flushed, and she started to pull away.

My arm tightened around her waist. "Don't."

"I should go," she whispered.

"Where?" I asked, watching her face crumble because we both knew the answer.

Nowhere. She had nowhere to go.

I made a decision. Quick, calculated, final. It's what made me successful.

"Stay," I said.

"I can't just…"

"You can. You will." I sat up, pulling her with me. The sheet fell to her waist, and I saw her instinctive move to cover herself. "I met your husband yesterday. At a bar."

Lynn's eyes widened. "What?"

"He approached me. Overheard my assistant and I discussing an event. Offered me your... services." The word tasted bitter. "Made it sound like you were available for hire. An escort. I didn't know you were his wife."

Horror dawned on her face. "He planned this. It wasn't a desperate impulse. He actually planned it."

"He took two thousand dollars from me as a deposit." I watched her process this. "He's been calling my phone since midnight. Wants the other half of his payment."

Lynn made a sound like she'd been punched. I pulled her against my chest, and she let me, trembling.

"I'm not going back to him," she said, her voice muffled against my skin.

"No," I agreed. "You're not."

"I don't have anything. No money, no job, no…"

"You have me."

She pulled back to look at me, confusion clear on her face. "Why? Why would you help me? You don't even know me."

I traced her jaw with my finger. "I know enough. I know you deserve better than what he gave you. I know I want to destroy him for what he did to you. And I know that I'm not done with you yet."

"I'm not a business deal," Lynn said, but there was no heat in it.

"You’re not," I agreed. "You're something far more interesting." I stood, moving toward the bathroom. "Stay here. One week. Give yourself time to figure out what you want to do next. I'll have Marcus bring you clothes, essentials, whatever you need."

"And what do you get out of this?" Lynn asked, pulling the sheet up to cover herself.

I smiled, and it was neither kind nor gentle. "Maybe I'm curious to see what happens next. Or maybe I just don't like unfinished business." I paused at the bathroom door. "And Lynn? When your husband calls again…and he will…don't answer. Let me handle him."

I disappeared into the bathroom, leaving her sitting alone on my bed. Through the door, I could hear her moving around, and I found myself smiling.

Lynn Sheldon—Lynn Vale, had walked into my life less than twelve hours ago.

And already, I knew one thing with absolute certainty.

I wasn't letting her go.