Chapter 1 - The Diamond and the Rule
"Anything else?" Penelope asked, her voice cracking beneath the weight of the silence.
Cassian Mercer did not immediately answer. He reached inside his tailored coat and drew out a small velvet box the color of midnight. With a flick of his thumb, the lid popped open. Resting inside was an emerald-cut diamond so brilliant, so completely free of flaws, that the overhead fluorescent bulb of the bakery seemed to fracture into thousand-dollar rainbows against the bakery display case.
"There is one rule," Cassian said. His low voice dipped into something colder, a subterranean chill that made the hair on the back of Penelope's neck stand on end. "You will live under my roof. You will eat at my table. You will smile for every shutterbug from the Chicago Tribune to Vogue. You will let me lace my fingers through yours until every district attorney in Cook County believes my blackened soul has been redeemed by the saint of South Loop. But you do not, under any circumstances, ever speak to my half-brother, Julian."
Penelope looked from the ice on the velvet cushion to the steel in Cassian's eyes. "Julian?"
"He lives on the northern wing of my estate. He has his own quarters, his own entrance, his own staff. He is charming. He is soft-spoken. He plays the wounded, gentle artist who was crushed under the weight of the Mercer legacy." A dark, imperceptible muscle feathered along Cassian’s jawline. "He will seek you out. He will tell you that I am dangerous. He will attempt to offer you comfort when my world feels heavy. If you speak to him, if you acknowledge his greetings, if you so much as hand him a glass of water, our agreement is null and void. The deed to this bakery goes into the shredder, and Eddie Marlow’s debt returns to your doorstep with interest."
"You want me to move into a house with a man and treat him like a ghost?" Penelope countered, crossing her arms defensively over her flour-dusted chest. "That sounds insane, Cassian."
"It is survival," Cassian replied flatly. "Do we have a deal, Miss Blake?"
She looked around the tiny space of The Buttered Crumb. She saw the antique pastry case her grandfather had bought second-hand in 1974. She saw the commercial oven she had cleaned on her hands and knees until her knuckles bled. She thought of Eddie Marlow’s henchmen, the greasy glint in their eyes, and the pink eviction notices currently burning a hole through the front glass. If she said no, she would be out on the street by Friday morning, blacklisted, broken, and destitute.
"Six months," she whispered.
"Six months," he confirmed. "On the first day of the seventh month, I sign the release papers. You receive five hundred thousand dollars in clean cash, full clear title to this building, and a written release from any non-disclosure agreement that would hinder your business. You can walk back in here, lock the door, and pretend I was a bad dream."
"And the diamond?"
May you like
"Keep it. Sell it. Throw it in Lake Michigan. I don't care." Cassian stepped forward, taking her hand before she could pull it back. His skin was warm, his grip firm and immovable. He slipped the heavy platinum band onto her left ring finger. It fit so perfectly it made her dizzy. "Pack what you need for two days. My drivers will handle the rest of your belongings in the morning. We have an announcement dinner tomorrow night at the Palmer House, Penelope. Welcome to high society."
Before she could process the sudden drop of her stomach, the bodyguards had unlocked the doors. Cassian turned, the umbrella clicking sharply against the tile, leaving Penelope standing in the quiet bakery with a diamond that cost more than her entire life.
