Adrian Sinclair didn't believe in luck.
He believed in power, control, and ruthlessness.
And those were the three things that had turned him from an abandoned boy into the CEO of Sinclair Enterprises.
Seated at the head of a sleek, glass conference table, Adrian listened as his legal team droned on about the upcoming Blackwell merger. Which was one of the biggest business deals of the decade. But his mind was elsewhere, locked on a far more pressing matter.
His grandfather's will.
Despite building an empire from the ground up, despite being worth billions, his grandfather's ironclad clause still hung over his head like a loaded gun.
At twenty-nine, Adrain couldn't hav efor one day, believed, with how far he had climbed and soared in the world, that he would end up being trapped in something as crazy as this.
"Adrian must be married before his thirty-third birthday, or the controlling shares of Sinclair Enterprises will be transferred to the board."
Adrian's jaw tightened. A marriage ultimatum.
It was a cruel joke. He had built Sinclair Enterprises with his bare hands, and now, just because of some outdated contract, he stood to lose everything to weak men in suits who had never fought for anything.
He needed a solution. Fast.
The idea came to him almost immediately.
Someone discreet. Someone desperate enough to sign a contract.
Someone he could control.
A knock at the conference room door broke his thoughts. His assistant, Mason, stepped inside, his expression unreadable.
"Sir, you have an urgent appointment. It's regarding Monroe Designs."
What the hell was Monroe designs and what was his business with it?
Adrian barely spared him a glance. "Not interested." And he wasn't. Couldn't even concentrate on anything else, other than the plan forming in his head.
Mason hesitated, vausing Adrian to throw him a questioning glance.
Since when did his assistant start failing to read the damn room and know when to leave.
He said nothing, waiting for Mason, who looked like he had something to say, to speak.
"They're drowning in debt, sir. If the business folds, the land becomes available for acquisition." Mason said, his lips drawing into a thin line as he looked back at Adrian, clearly nervous.
Now that caught his attention. Adrian's mind began to work like a clock.
He did know Monroe Designs, although they had been the least of his bothers, But... Monroe Designs was nothing. A boutique barely clinging to life. But the location? Prime real estate.
Even if business was the last thing he should be thinking about at the moment, he had to admit that he couldn't let a good deal slide. Especially one that was as promising as this.
Adrian exhaled, pushing back his chair, and giving Mason his full attention. "Where is the owner?"
Mason smirked. "Already waiting in the lobby."
Adrian raised a suspiscious brow. That was something....
~
Isla Monroe had never felt more out of place.
She stood in the towering, soulless lobby of Sinclair Enterprises, clutching a worn leather folder against her chest.
Everything about this place screamed power and luxury.
The marble floors, the steel sculptures, the intimidating silence. Men in tailored suits strode past her, barely sparing her a glance.
The environment was so cold and hostile. Something that was far from what she was used to.
Could someone get some warmth in here?
She thought as she observed her surroundings.
She hated it.
She wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to be back at her boutique, working. Her warm, cozy boutique. But she had no choice.
She had seven days to fix an impossible debt, and after exhausting every option, loans, favors, heck, even begging the damn bank, this was her last resort.
Well six more days now.
Sinclair Enterprises had been circling her mother's boutique for months. If Adrian Sinclair wanted the property so badly, maybe he'd pay enough to clear her debt.
The man's reputation preceded him. According to what she had heard, Adrian Sinclair never gave up on whatever it is he was chasing down. And the man had had eyes on her boutique, for reasons she had not bothered to be interested in.
This was her last resort. And she had a feeling she was going to regret this. But Isla didn't care. She needed this.
Even if it meant facing the devil himself.
A deep voice interrupted her thoughts. "Miss Monroe?"
Isla turned. And then froze.
Adrian Sinclair was nothing like she had expected.
He wasn't some old, bald, executive or faceless tycoon. Far form it.
The man that stood before her was tall, broad-shouldered, and devastatingly cold. Even from where she stood, she could feel the cold aura he exuded.
Isla shivered slightly.
His dark tailored suit fit his powerful frame like it had been crafted for a god. Sharp jawline. Ice-blue eyes that pinned her in place, as if he were already bored of her presence.
Adrian stood there with a raised brow, peering straight at her.
Her heart kicked against her ribs.
God help her. He was dangerous.
She didn't need anyone to tell her that.
Maybe she should have taken Sophie's advice and did pproper research before coming here to face him.
"Follow me," he ordered, not waiting for a response, he turned and began to walk away.
Arrogant bastard. Isla thought, clutching the contents of her hands tighter, clearly irritated.
Grinding her teeth, Isla stalked after him, following him through a maze of glass offices until they reached his lair.
Ofcourse she would expect the office to be made of glass mostly. An ice interior for an ice king.
A penthouse office, minimalist, sleek, and absurdly luxurious. It was as impersonal as the man who owned it.
She barely had time to take in the skyline view before he turned, crossing his arms.
"You have two minutes. Speak."
Why did he have to put her in the spot like thta
Two minutes? What would she say in tow minutes?
But then again, what did she expect from a cold bastard like him?
She bristled. "I—" She took a calming breath. "I want to sell Monroe Designs."
There was no other way to put it.
There, she had gone straight to the point. Now all she could do, was wait for his response.
Adrian's expression didn't change. Unmoved. Uninterested.
"Sell?" His voice was smooth, but there was a mocking edge. "A business barely worth anything?"
Her nails dug into her palm. Isla tried her best to remain calm outwardly, even if her insides were screaming murder. She shouldn't have come here. This was a mistake.
Determined to give it one more try, she opened her mout again."The location—"
"Is the only valuable part." Adrain soke, cutting her off, and stepping closer, his towering presence suffocating. "Why should I pay anything more than its liquidation value?"
Because I have no other choice.
Because I can't lose my mother's dream.
Because I have seven days before everything crumbles.
But Isla Monroe had pride, and she refused to let him see her desperation.
"You and I both know the property is worth more than that," she said, keeping her voice steady. Did he seriously think she had not done her mathematics before coming to his office? "I need a deal, Mr. Sinclair. Surely you understand the art of negotiation?"
Something flickered in his eyes. Amusement.
Or interest.
Whatever it is, she was not curious enough to dwell on it. What she needed, was for him to take her offer.
He circled her slowly, like a predator assessing it's prey. And heaven knew she felt like a prey at the moment. "You're determined."
"I have no choice."
Silence. A battle of wills.
Then, to her surprise, he smiled. A slow, wicked thing.
"Tell me, Miss Monroe… how far are you willing to go to save your business?"
Her throat went dry.
Why did he sound like he was about to drop something on her that would either be the death of her, or her salvation?
And why did it feel like it was the former, rather than the latter?
Everything about him screamed danger.
Everything about her screamed run.
But she was trapped, and they both knew it.
Isla was aware he knew the game of business better than her. Heck, she was aware that he knew she had more to lose than he did, afterall, if he took her deal, he was actually doing her a favor, not the other way round.
Isla chose to sya nothing, waiting for him to speak instead.
Finally, he spoke.
"Forget selling your boutique. I have a better offer." He leaned in, his breath a whisper against her skin.
And what he said next, was more shocking than the fact thanthe move he had just made
"Marry me."