The ink was barely dry on the contract when he stepped into the room. Tall, silent and dangerous. The bodyguard she’d only seen in the background before today was suddenly standing before her like the second clause of her fate.

Clause Seven: The bride agrees to a private assessment to ensure her full cooperation within the marriage.

It had sounded clinical on paper. Legal. Hollow.

But nothing about the way he looked at her now felt hollow.

“You requested this,” he said, voice deep and low, almost unreadable. “You want to prove you’re ready. Voluntarily.”

She nodded, slowly. Her pulse betrayed her—throbbing in her throat, her chest, her wrists where...