Chapter 4: From Now On, You Have Me

Summer's POV

Mr. Stark's fingers traced the edge of his platinum cufflink as he spoke, the gesture casual yet somehow predatory. "Who I am doesn't matter. What matters is that I can help you."

That commanding tone... like he's used to people following his every word. I pulled the silk covers closer, painfully aware of how vulnerable I must look in these borrowed clothes. "I don't need your help." The words came out sharper than I intended, tinged with the bitter memories of the last time I'd trusted someone's help. My fingers clenched in the fabric, knuckles turning white.

He moved closer, each step measured and deliberate, like a predator approaching cornered prey. My heart stuttered as his expensive leather shoes whispered against the plush carpet.

"Really?" His deep voice carried a hint of amusement, but his eyes... God, those eyes. Dark and intense, they seemed to see right through my fragile defenses. One corner of his mouth lifted in a knowing smirk as he continued, "Why did you come to Manhattan Club last night? Your fiancé becoming your brother-in-law, your parents' distrust, you've become the target of everyone's criticism."

His dark eyes fixed on mine, and I had to fight the urge to look away. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he added, "Have you seen today's Wall Street Journal?"

My blood ran cold. Of course it made the papers. I could already imagine the headlines, the whispers, the pitying looks. The perfect Wall Street scandal – jilted fiancée curses her sister's engagement.

"Who are you?" I demanded again, but this time the question carried a different weight. He knew too much for this to be a coincidence.

He took another step closer, and I caught that same winter-fresh scent from last night. "Brandon Stark."

The Brandon Stark? Seriously? The name hit me like a physical blow. My mind raced through the possibilities, the connections. "What's your relationship with Alexander Stark?"

His lips curved into a predatory smile. "If I say there's no relationship, would you believe me?"

"You're using me against Alexander?" The accusation slipped out before I could stop it.

A bark of laughter escaped him, sharp and dismissive. "Against him? You're giving him too much credit!"

He closed the distance between us in two long strides, his movements fluid and graceful despite his imposing height. At this distance, I could see how his perfectly tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders and lean frame, how the morning light caught the sharp angles of his face. Suddenly the room felt too small, too warm. I tried to step back, but my legs hit the edge of the bed. Trapped. Again.

His tie pin caught the morning light as he leaned closer, casting golden reflections on the wall. "Miss Taylor," his voice dropped lower, a velvet rumble that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. His eyes searched my face with an intensity that made my breath catch. "Don't you hate them? Being betrayed by the ones closest to you, don't you hate them?"

Yes. No. I don't know anymore. The conflicting emotions must have shown on my face because something flickered in his expression – satisfaction maybe, or triumph.

"That's none of your business," I whispered, but the words lacked conviction. His proximity was making it hard to think straight.

His hands came to rest on either side of me, effectively caging me in. The morning light caught the perfect edge of his jawline as he spoke two words that stopped my world on its axis:

"Marry me."

The words hung in the air between us, stunning me into silence. I stared at him, certain I'd misheard, watching the way his lips curved into a slight smile. My pulse roared in my ears. "What?"

"I can give you happiness that no one else in this world can reach." His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing the weather rather than proposing marriage to a virtual stranger.

"Shameless!" I pushed against his chest, trying to create some distance between us. But he caught my wrist, using my momentum to spin me around until my back hit the cool glass of the floor-to-ceiling window.

"This is what you call shameless? Hmm?" His breath ghosted across my neck as he leaned closer, making my pulse jump erratically. One of his hands came up to tilt my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"Just because you saved me doesn't mean I have to marry you," I managed to say, fighting to keep my voice steady. "What era do you think we're living in?"

His dark eyes seemed to darken further, and something in them made my breath catch. "The more you resist, the more determined I am to marry you."

"You're insane," I breathed, but I couldn't look away from his intense gaze. "You don't even know me."

"I know enough." His thumb brushed across my jawline, the touch sending electricity dancing across my skin. "I know you're stronger than you think. I know you deserve better than what they've done to you."

"Stop it." My voice cracked on the words, betraying the tremor I was trying so hard to hide. "Just... stop." My hands pressed against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart through the expensive fabric of his suit.

His free hand came up to brush a strand of hair from my face, the gesture startlingly gentle compared to his earlier intensity. "Don't belittle yourself." His tone softened slightly, but his grip remained firm, his thumb tracing a small arc along my jawline. "You're not alone."

He leaned closer, until I could feel the heat radiating from his body, until the sophisticated notes of his cologne mixed with the natural warmth of his skin. His next words seemed to brand themselves into my soul: "From now on, you have me."