Into His Trap

Pure panic hijacked Nora’s senses the moment Desmond Kincaid’s cold hazel-green eyes locked onto hers. The suffocating weight of his stare snapped her out of her frozen state. She whirled around on her heels and bolted down the civic center steps. Returning to a damp, mold-infested prison cell was vastly preferable to placing her life in the hands of the very man she had publicly humiliated a decade ago. She pushed her sore legs to move faster, her cheap heels clicking frantically against the concrete.

Silas lunged forward, his dress shoes slapping the pavement as he gave chase. "Miss Vance, wait! Where are you going?"

"Back to prison!" Nora shouted over her shoulder, not daring to slow her pace.

"But why? You cannot change your mind once you have signed the agreement, and you signed it!" Silas panted heavily, his voice trailing behind her in the humid air.

"I do not care about the agreement!" Nora kept running, her lungs burning with the effort.

Standing poised near the entrance, Desmond watched her fleeing figure. Dark, calculating amusement danced in his eyes. Silas was pathetically chasing after a woman who would rather run toward a jail cell than marry him. A familiar surge of dark frustration swelled in Desmond's chest, but he kept his face an impenetrable mask of stone. Even now, stripped of her wealth and dignity, she remained reluctant to stand by his side.

He reached into the inside pocket of his bespoke suit and pulled out his smartphone. He dialed his assistant's number. The line picked up amidst the sound of Silas's heavy breathing.

"Come back." Desmond issued the calm, two-word command and tapped the screen to end the call.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket, his gaze fixed on the distant street corner where Nora’s figure was growing smaller. Having spent ten long years overseas building a corporate empire fueled entirely by the bitter ache of her rejection, Desmond knew Nora’s psychology inside out. He had mapped every corner of her pride. She was an escaped bird with clipped wings. With every avenue of survival closed off and ruthless creditors hunting her down, she had nowhere to fly. She would crawl back into his cage on her own terms.

At the edge of the street corner, Nora skidded to a halt. Her chest heaved. Sweat beaded along her hairline. She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see the assistant tailing her, but the sidewalk behind her was empty. Silas had abandoned the pursuit.

Cold reality washed over her. She stood on the busy sidewalk in dirty clothes, penniless and marked by scandal. The morning heat beat down on her shoulders. If Desmond tore up that marriage contract right now, the police would have her back behind bars by nightfall. She could already smell the rot of the cell and feel the cold iron bars. Swallowing the towering lump of pride in her throat, she reminded herself they were once civil classmates. It was a business transaction to save her own life.

She turned back around and sprinted toward the civic center plaza.

Desmond was just about to reach for the door handle of his luxury vehicle when the sound of her approaching footsteps made him pause.

"Wait… Dez!" Nora called out, panting as she intercepted him.

Desmond stiffened. Hearing that old nickname slip past her lips sent an inexplicable jolt through his veins, but he forced the sensation down into the darkest corner of his mind. He turned around, wearing an aloof, impenetrable expression that gave nothing away. He flicked his wrist and checked his luxury watch with narrowed eyes.

"What is it, Miss Vance? I do not have all day to waste on your games."

Nora swallowed hard, her heart thudding against her ribs as she looked up at his chiseled face. The man possessed the striking, intimidating features of a Greek god, harboring an intense aura that made her want to shrink backward.

"Where are you going? I merely dashed off to locate a public restroom." Nora stammed the clumsy lie, hoping the bright sunlight masked the flush of panic on her cheeks.

Desmond saw straight through the pathetic fabrication. He leveled a cold stare at her, his gaze traveling slowly down her disheveled state. He took in the dirt on her clothes and the nervous tremble of her shoulders before his eyes snagged on her split, swollen lower lip.

His stoic mask fractured into raw fury.

He reached out with long, icy fingers and gripped her chin, tilting her face upward into the harsh daylight. A searing jolt of electricity zipped across Nora’s skin the second his flesh met hers. Her breath hitched. The touch was firm, possessive, and sent a sudden rush of heat flushing through her nervous system.

"Who did this?" Desmond demanded, his voice dropping to a lethal, guttural register. He brushed his thumb near the raw edge of her busted lip.

Nora trembled, flustered by his sudden physical proximity and the dark fire blazing in his eyes. The electric sparks shooting from his touch confused her.

"The arresting inspector struck me during interrogation." Nora mumbled, trying to keep her voice steady while her heart hammered a frantic rhythm.

Desmond’s eyes turned murderous. Without missing a beat, he dropped his hand from her face and turned his head toward Silas.

"Have someone find that inspector and chop off his hand."

Nora gaped at him. The sheer ruthlessness of the directive chilled her blood to ice. He was not joking. The dark promise of violence radiated from every inch of his towering frame. Horrified that a man’s limb might be severed on her account, she reacted on pure instinct.

"No need! He was merely doing his job, and I was not cooperating in the beginning." Nora grabbed his tailored sleeve, her fingers curling around the fine fabric to stop him.

The moment her fingers wrapped around his arm, Desmond’s heart seized. A rush of mixed emotions battered against his ribs. He looked down at her pale, smooth hands gripping his sleeve, savoring the fleeting sensation of her voluntary touch.

Realizing what she had done, Nora snatched her hand back as if scorched by an open flame. She dropped her arms to her sides and took a quick step backward, her eyes wide with sudden regret.

Desmond watched her micro-rejection with a darkening gaze. His jaw clenched in quiet bitterness. The desperate urge to pull her shivering frame into his chest clawed at his insides, but he ruthlessly suppressed it. She looked at him like he was a monster. Perhaps he was.

"Inside." Desmond ordered, his voice devoid of warmth. He turned on his heel and strode toward the registry office entrance.

Nora trailed behind him. She kept her eyes fixed on the broad expanse of his back, privately resolving to shield her own heart. This marriage was a purely financial transaction. She would work hard, repay every single cent of his money, scrub her record clean, and demand a divorce the instant she became solvent. She refused to be a permanent prisoner in Desmond Kincaid's golden cage.

Inside the private ceremonial room, the air felt thick and suffocating. The government officiator, a middle-aged woman in a crisp black suit, stood behind a polished oak desk. Nora and Desmond stood side by side, leaving a deliberate foot of empty space between them.

"Mr. Kincaid, do you take Nora Vance as your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, till death do you part?" The officiator looked up at the towering billionaire.

"I do." Desmond uttered the words without a single fraction of hesitation. His deep, resonant voice echoed off the wood-paneled walls.

Nora’s heart skipped a beat, pounding rapidly against her ribs. The finality in his tone terrified her.

"Miss Vance, do you take Desmond Kincaid as your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, till death do you part?" The officiator shifted her gaze to the bride.

The weight of the moment choked Nora's throat. Silence stretched across the small room. She stared at the legal documents on the desk, her mind screaming at her to run, to reject him again, to save herself.

Desmond tightened his hands into rigid fists at his sides. A familiar, agonized ache tore through his chest as he watched her hesitate. It felt like a thousand arrows piercing his ribcage, a brutal reminder of the rainy courtyard ten years ago. He kept a straight face, narrowing his eyes as he watched her avert her gaze nervously.

"Miss Vance?" The officiator prompted softly.

Nora snapped back to her senses. She had no other choice. She clenched her jaw, bit the bullet, and forced the words past her lips.

"I do."

"Great. By the powers vested in me by the courts of law, I now pronounce you man and wife." The officiator stamped the legal document with a heavy thud. She looked at the tense couple, sensing the thick hostility radiating between them.

"You may now kiss the—"

"Skip it!" Desmond and Nora shouted in unison, their voices overlapping in a desperate bid to shut the traditional gesture down.

The officiator furrowed her brows, handed over the finalized marriage certificate, and quickly ushered them out of the room.

They exited the civic center and stepped out into the afternoon heat. Nora looked completely drained. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, her eyes bearing the heavy weight of a woman marching toward the gallows.

Her dispirited demeanor stoked Desmond’s bitter frustration. He gritted his teeth, anger flowing through him as he watched her look so broken over marrying him.

The luxury convoy pulled up to the curb. Silas opened the heavy door of the lead Maybach. Desmond climbed into the plush leather rear seat, settling his large frame into the shadows of the tinted vehicle.

Nora lingered awkwardly on the asphalt, staring at the dark interior of the car. She had no idea what the rules were now. Was she supposed to ride in a separate vehicle?

Desmond leaned forward, his eyes flashing with irritation. "Do you require an embossed engraved invitation to enter your husband's car, Nora?"

Nora scrambled inside, her heart racing like a galloping horse.

The moment she situated herself on the edge of the seat, the heavy doors sealed shut with a soft click, plunging them into a quiet, air-conditioned world. The sheer luxury of the car overwhelmed her senses, but the terrifying presence of the man sitting beside her eclipsed everything else.

"Silas, the agreement." Desmond coldly demanded from the backseat.

Silas turned around from the front passenger seat and handed a thick, bound document over the center console. Nora blinked in confusion as the heavy stack of paper was thrust into her hands.

"What is this for? I already signed the agreement back in the holding cell." Nora asked, her fingers hovering over the navy-blue cover.

Desmond leaned back against the leather headrest, steepling his long fingers together over his lap. "You failed to read the contract with adequate care, Nora."

A cold sense of dread washed over her. Nora placed the hefty document upon her lap and began turning the crisp pages. She scanned the dense legal jargon, her eyes flying over the sections detailing financial debt relief and scandal management. She flipped another page, and her stomach dropped into a bottomless pit.

Her eyes locked onto the draconian, previously overlooked clauses printed in tiny, fine ink at the absolute bottom of the page.