The Proposal

Willa’s POV.

My breath stuttered, catching in the back of my throat like a jagged shard of glass. “What?” I breathed, the word barely more than a puff of air. I tried to pull my hand back, a reflex of self-preservation, but his grip on my wrist was an iron shackle. It wasn’t painful, but it was absolute. He wasn’t letting go, and the terrifying part was that a growing, dark corner of my mind didn’t want him to.

“Don’t,” he rasped. His voice was a low, vibrating growl that seemed to bypass my ears and settle straight into my bones. “I want to feel you.”

The intensity in his eyes was suffocating. I swallowed hard, my gaze dropping to where my palm was flattened against his bare chest. The heat radiating from him was staggering, a furnace that threatened to melt my resolve. Underneath my skin, I could feel his pectoral muscles bunching and tensing, his heart thudding with a rhythm that was heavy and deliberate. He let out a sharp, ragged breath that fanned across my forehead, and for a second, the world outside this VIP lounge ceased to exist.

He slowly uncurled his fingers from my wrist, releasing me. Any sane woman would have bolted. Any woman with a shred of dignity or common sense would have snatched her hand away, grabbed her purse, and run until her lungs burned.

But I wasn't sane tonight. The betrayal of the last few hours had stripped me down to something raw and unrecognizable. The alcohol sloshing in my system had dissolved the filters, the rules, and the fear. My brain was screaming that Killian Black was a predator, a man who could unmake me with a single word, but I didn't listen.

In the wreckage of my life, the thought of danger felt like the only thing that was real.

“Why are you doing this?” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of exhaustion and unwanted heat. “You told me you know everything about your employees, but this is beyond that. No CEO memorizes every face their staff has ever talked to. It’s impossible.”

He didn’t answer. He just stood there, a towering silhouette of power and secrets, watching me with those predatory eyes.

I couldn’t stop myself. I kept going, the words tumbling out as I sought some kind of anchor. “You know I have a sister. You know Sloane was with her. How? How could you possibly know that unless you were looking for it?”

Silence. He didn’t even blink.

My fingers moved almost of their own accord, tracing small, hesitant circles against the warm skin of his chest. It was a reckless move, a direct challenge to the man who looked like he could snap me in two, but I didn't care. The gin and the heartbreak had formed a lethal cocktail in my veins, softening my restraint until it was nothing but a memory.

I caught the edge of a tattoo peeking out from under the collar of his shirt on the left side. It was thick, black ink—sharp, aggressive lines that seemed to connect to the markings on his wrist. I wanted to see the rest of it. I wanted to trace every line, to understand the map of whatever darkness he carried.

Every time my fingertips brushed over his skin, Killian’s eyes darkened further, turning into abyssal pits of hunger. His jaw was set so tight I thought his teeth might shatter. He looked like a man who was fighting every instinct to reach out and claim me right then and there.

He didn't just want me. He looked at me like he wanted to strip me of my name and replace it with his own. He looked at me like I was property he hadn’t realized he owned until this very second.

“Is that really what you want to know, Willa?”

My name sounded different coming from him. It wasn't the way Sloane said it—dismissive and casual. When Killian said it, it sounded like a command. It sounded like a prayer and a threat all rolled into one. I felt a phantom weight on my shoulders, a sensation that if he told me to kneel, I’d do it before I even realized I’d moved.

My mouth was bone-dry. I swallowed, the truth clawing its way up my throat. “No,” I whispered, shaking my head.

Because the truth was far more pathetic. In the middle of this nightmare, amongst the ruins of my five-year relationship and my sister’s ultimate betrayal, I’d realized something devastating.

I wanted him.

Not because of the money, or the power, or the fact that he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. I wanted him because for the first time in twenty-four years, someone was actually looking at me. Not through me. Not at a version of me they wanted to fix or use.

He wasn't looking for Jade. He was looking at Willa.

I pulled my hand away, the loss of contact feeling like a physical blow. I let out a long, shaky sigh, feeling the weight of the night finally crushing my chest. “I don’t even know why I’m saying these things. I don’t know you.”

“But you want to,” he countered, his voice like velvet over gravel.

I hated how easily he saw through the layers. I shrugged, a bitter, jagged laugh escaping me as my eyes began to sting. “I’m not in my right mind, Killian. I’ve been… I was played. Like a fool.”

The floodgates opened. I didn't mean to tell him, but the words were a dam that had finally burst.

“Sloane… and my sister, Jade. They’ve been doing this for years. Right under my nose. I was so stupid, so fucking desperate to believe he loved me that I ignored everything. I built my whole life around a lie.”

I tried to blink back the tears, determined not to show more weakness to a man like him, but then he did something I didn’t expect. He reached out, his large hands finding my waist, and pulled me flush against his chest.

I froze, my breath hitching as I was enveloped by his scent—expensive tobacco, cedarwood, and a raw, masculine musk that made my head spin.

“Don’t hold it back,” he murmured into my hair, his voice deep and surprisingly gentle. “Let it out, Willa. Let the whole world burn if you have to.”

That was it. That was the permission I didn’t know I needed.

I broke.

One moment I was trying to be strong, and the next, I was sobbing into the expensive fabric of his shirt. My fists clenched into the material, clutching him as if he were the only solid thing in a world that had turned to liquid. I trembled, my body racking with the force of years of suppressed resentment and the fresh, agonizing sting of tonight's discovery.

Killian didn't push me away. He didn't offer empty platitudes. Instead, his hand began to move in slow, grounding circles up and down my spine. The contact was soothing, yet possessed an intensity that made me feel more alive than I ever had with Sloane.

“Just say the word,” he said suddenly.

I pulled back slightly, wiping the moisture from my cheeks with the back of my hand, feeling embarrassed and raw. “What?”

He reached out, his fingers threading through my hair to tuck a stray lock behind my ear. It was a tender gesture, but when I looked into his eyes, they weren't gentle. They were murderous. A cold, predatory rage was simmering there, directed at the people who had dared to break me.

“Say the word, and I will help you get the revenge you’re screaming for.”

I blinked, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Revenge? Who says I want revenge?” I tried to laugh, but it came out as a broken, nervous sound.

Killian exhaled a slow breath, a dark smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “You can’t lie to me, Willa. I see it in you. It’s the same fire that’s in me. You want them to suffer. You want Sloane and your sister to feel every ounce of the pain they’ve put you through. You want to see them crawl.”

He took a slow, deliberate step forward. I took a step back, my pulse racing. I wasn't running; I was being herded, and the thrill of it was terrifying. Another step from him, another back from me, until my shoulder blades hit the cold, hard surface of the wall.

Killian didn't stop. He moved in until he was inches away, his hand slamming against the wall beside my head, trapping me in his shadow. He was so close I could feel the heat of his body through my dress, so close I could see the golden flecks in his dark irises.

Everything about him was lethal. Every word he spoke felt like a deal with a devil I was more than ready to sign. Because he was right. The sadness was being rapidly replaced by a cold, hard lump of coal in my chest. I wanted payback. Jade had spent her whole life taking from me, and tonight, she had taken the last thing I thought was mine.

“Why would you care?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “Why would a man like you want to help me?”

His gaze dropped to my lips, and I saw his tongue dart out to wet them. I felt a corresponding throb deep in my core.

“Because you looked at me like I was the only thing that could break you,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, intimate level. “And because you touched me like you wanted to be owned.”

He leaned closer, his mouth hovering just over mine. The air in the lounge felt thick, charged with enough static to ignite the room. “I don’t feel, Willa,” he breathed, his warm breath ghosting over my skin. “I have a condition. Neurological. I can’t feel anyone’s touch. The world is a numb, empty place for me.”

I gasped, my eyes widening.

“But I felt you,” he whispered, his lips grazing mine so lightly it was an agony. “The second your palms hit my chest, the world turned back on. You’re the only thing I can feel.”

I couldn't even process the weight of that. My mind was a scramble of questions, but he wasn't done. He wasn't giving me time to think.

“I can give you everything you’ve ever been denied,” he murmured against my lips. “Revenge. Absolute power. A new identity. A name so powerful that Sloane and your sister won't even be able to look you in the eye without trembling. They’ll choke on your success once they realize who you belong to.”

I was pinned between the wall and his massive frame, my breath coming in short, shallow pants. I wanted it. I wanted all of it. I wanted to be the monster that haunted Jade’s dreams.

Killian’s next words were slow, intentional, and they felt like a physical weight being dropped onto the room.

“Marry me.”

The world stopped. I blinked, my brain trying to make sense of the syllables. “You’re… you’re joking.”

He didn't smile. He didn't move. His jaw ticked, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “I don’t joke about assets, Willa. And I don’t joke about what I want.”

He stepped back just an inch, giving me enough room to draw a shaky breath.

“How can you even suggest that?” I stammered. “You don’t know me. We don’t… we don’t even like each other.”

“I don’t need to like you,” he said, his voice turning cold and professional, though the fire in his eyes hadn't dimmed. “I just need to possess you. I need that feeling back, and I will do whatever it takes to secure it.”

“Killian…”

“I will make them pay,” he repeated, the promise sounding like a death sentence. “Every person who ever made you feel small. Every person who overlooked you. I will crush them beneath my heel, and you will be right there beside me, watching them burn.”

“And what do you get in return?” I asked, though the answer was already vibrating through the air between us.

“You,” he growled, the word vibrating in the air. “You become mine. Completely. Legally. Physically.”

A violent shiver raced down my spine, ending in a pool of heat at the bottom of my stomach. The ache between my legs was becoming unbearable, a pulse that matched the frantic beating of my heart. I looked at him—at the man who was offering me the world in exchange for my soul.

And I realized I didn’t want my soul anymore. It had only ever brought me pain.

I swallowed hard, my mind spinning as I moved forward, closing the small gap he’d created. I reached out, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. I wanted to see him. I wanted to see the man who was going to help me burn my old life to the ground.

“I have one last request,” I muttered, my eyes locked on his.

Killian’s nostrils flared as my knuckles brushed his skin. “Anything,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with a need that felt as jagged as my own.

I knew I was drunk. I knew I was making a decision that would change the trajectory of my life forever. But as I looked at Killian Black, I thought about Sloane. I thought about the way he’d looked at Jade. I thought about the five years I’d spent waiting for a man who never truly saw me.

I wanted to overwrite those memories. I wanted to erase every touch Sloane had ever left on my skin and replace them with something darker, something more consuming. I wanted to feel what it was like to be taken by a man who didn't just want me, but needed me to survive.

With my heart in my throat and my fingers gripping the edge of his shirt, I made my request.

“I want you to take my virginity.”