“Yes,” I’m blurting things out now, but I don’t care as long as it gets us our company back. “Layla and I might even be willing to offer you a bit more than what you paid for the shares. All we need is the option to pay in instalments and time until our next product is launched.”

“Shares and money aren’t the payment I was thinking of.”

I frown. “Then what is?”

“You, Aurora.”

 

 

9

 

 

Aurora

 

 

I stare at Jonathan with what must look like a blank expression.

For the second time in the span of a few minutes, he’s put me completely out of my element. It’s like I’m suddenly stripped to my most basic form and I can’t begin to explain what’s happening.

“What did you just say?” I murmur, resisting the urge to fall on the chair opposite my desk – the one he’s sitting behind like it’s always been his to snatch. This whole situation feels like it’s always been his to start and own.

“You heard me.” Jonathan’s expression remains calm, bored even, as if he didn’t suggest that he take…me.

“What do you mean exactly by taking me for payment?” My voice regains some of its edge.

“It’s as simple as it sounds. In exchange for transferring full ownership of the stocks, I want you to pay for them by becoming mine.”

My cheeks heat with the humiliation of the thought, but my voice comes out strong and clear. “I’m not a whore.”

“You’ll be mine, not my whore. There’s a difference. I’m not interested in a slut. If I were, I could’ve gotten her off the streets or scooped one up at a party. They’re not worth the hundreds of thousands I paid for H&H’s stocks.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel flattered or something?”

“It’s not my purpose, but if you are, by all means.”

The dick.

My blood boils with the need to hit him across the face and scream bloody murder. But even I recognise that with Jonathan, he’ll make it seem like I’m the one who committed murder, not the other way around.

I try to bargain with myself to remain cool-headed, realising full well that the agitation will only push me to make mistakes. Yes, his suggestion and the nonchalant way he said it — as if it’s a given — is like having tentacles wrapped around my chest, but I need to find a way to deal with it. “You’re crazy if you thought I’d agree to this.”

“Watch that mouth, Aurora. I don’t appreciate being called crazy.”

“And I don’t appreciate being treated like a whore in my own company.”

“My company. It is now my property. You’ll get used to it with time.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I’ll buy back the shares for double the price you paid.”

“Not interested.”

“Why the hell not? You’re a businessman. You’re supposed to consider profit before anything else.”

He stands up and it takes all of my self-confidence not to step back and glue myself to the wall – or better yet, turn around and get the hell out of his lethal presence. I haven’t been breathing properly since he barged into my office.

But the fact remains, it is my office. I won’t allow Jonathan or anyone else to make me abandon it.

“Have you heard about suffering small losses for the greater good? This is one of those situations, wild one. You can offer me ten times what I paid, and I still won’t sell.” He stops in front of me, a hand in his pocket and his arrogant nose nearly hitting the roof. “Here’s how it’ll go. You offer yourself to me willingly. And by willingly, I mean you’re completely into this; there will be no bowing out, changing your mind, or playing the victim card.”

“And if I don’t agree?” I ask, even though my tongue sticks to the roof of my dry mouth.

“You’ll give up ownership of H&H and I’ll have the liberty to sell it or merge it with another company. I haven’t decided yet.”

“You…you can’t do that. The artistic value of H&H will disappear.”

“I have no fucks to give about that.”

“How about the employees? Will you at least keep them? Many of them have debts and loans to pay. They’ve been with us since the start, and some are too old to work for larger corporations.”

“I don’t see why any of that is my problem.” His face remains stoic, unchanging.

Tears gather in my eyes at the injustice of the world. A world ruled by the likes of Jonathan King. Large corporations like King Enterprises don’t give a fuck about smaller ones. They don’t stop to look under their shoes after they crush multiple families with their capitalist bullshit.

Gulping in a deep breath, I try to ignore how close he is and that his scent is enveloping me whether I like it or not. It’s another one of the intimidation factors that he uses relentlessly and unapologetically.

It’s useless to fight him on a bigger scale or in a company versus company type of argument. He came here already knowing he has the upper hand, so he’ll never cave in.

I take an entirely different route. “You’re my sister’s husband. We can’t possibly do this.”

“I get to decide that, and I say we will.”

“How could you do this to Alicia after…” I trail off before I blurt out all the thoughts I want to scream at his face. This is the worst time to confront him about the past.

He eradicates the distance between us in one step and holds my chin captive like he did at the wedding. I try to take a step back, but he wraps his other hand around the back of my neck, imprisoning me.

My pulse heightens until it’s the only thing I can hear in my ears. His callous touch, and the way he does it, as if he has every right to — as if I’m already his property — should make me rage. However, I’m unable to get past the ball lodged in my throat. It’s like I’m back to being that little girl who peeked up at him, because actually looking at him? That’s like peering at the sun and being roasted alive.

“After what? If you start something, finish it.”

“After she died.” I’m glad my voice doesn’t crack or break. “I can’t do that to her. She was my sister.”

“The one whose funeral you didn’t even attend?”

I bite my lower lip, caging in the feelings trying to bleed out of me.

“That’s what I thought.” He releases me with what almost seems like…distaste.

I see it then, the darkness in his grey eyes. At first, I thought it was anger and disapproval, and while those are indeed there, it’s so much deeper than that. There’s also another potent emotion that’s lurking beneath the surface.

Grudge. Hard and poignant.

Jonathan doesn’t seek to own me because he wants me. Far from it. He has a hidden agenda and he won’t stop until he achieves it. Whether I survive or perish at the end is the least of his concerns.

“I’ll give you time to think about it, and then I’ll send a driver to your house.”

“How do you know my address?”

He continues as if I didn’t just ask him a question, “If you don’t show up at my house tonight, Harris will start H&H acquisition procedures tomorrow morning.”