Chapter 4

Summer's POV

Mr. Stark's fingers traced the edge of his platinum cufflink as he spoke, the gesture casual yet radiating a quiet, absolute authority. "Who I am is less important than what I can do for you. And right now, I am the only one offering you a way out."

That commanding tone... he was clearly a man accustomed to being heard. I clutched the silk covers tighter, my pulse hammering against my ribs. The sheer vulnerability of my situation was starting to weigh on me, every instinct screaming at me to keep my guard up. "I don't need your help," I said, my voice sharper than I intended, brittle with the memories of the last time I’d misplaced my trust.

He moved closer, his steps measured and deliberate. My heart stuttered as the soft sound of his shoes against the plush carpet filled the silence.

"Is that so?" His deep voice held a hint of amusement, but his eyes remained intense—dark and searching, as if they could see right through the walls I’d built overnight. A slight smile played at the corner of his mouth. "Why go to the Manhattan Club alone last night? Between a fiancé who betrayed you and a family that refuses to stand by you, you’ve become the center of a storm you aren't prepared for."

"Who are you?" I demanded again. This wasn't a coincidence; he knew far too much.

He took another step, and I caught the scent of winter air and expensive cedarwood. "Brandon Stark."

The Brandon Stark? The name hit me like a physical blow. My mind raced through the headlines—the power, the influence, the legendary Stark reserve. "Wait... what is your connection to Alexander?"

His lips curved into a subtle, knowing smile. "If I told you our interests rarely align, would you believe me?"

I narrowed my eyes, pulling the sheet higher to ensure my dignity remained intact. "Are you trying to use me as leverage? Is this some family feud I’ve been dragged into?"

A short, dismissive laugh escaped him. "Leverage? You’re giving Alexander far too much credit if you think he’s the primary concern here."

He closed the distance between us in two fluid strides, his imposing height casting a long shadow in the morning light. The room suddenly felt smaller, the air charged with a tension I couldn't quite name. I clutched the silk tighter, painfully aware of the contrast between his perfectly tailored suit and my precarious state. I tried to shift back, but there was nowhere left to go.

His tie pin caught the sunlight as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, resonant rumble that made my skin prickle. "Miss Taylor," he said, his eyes searching mine with a sudden, startling sincerity. "Don't you feel the weight of it? Being betrayed by the very people who should have protected you... don't you want to change the narrative?"

Yes. No. I don't know. The chaos of the last twenty-four hours threatened to spill over. I saw a flash of something in his expression—not triumph, but a strange kind of recognition.

"That’s none of your business," I whispered, but the defiance felt weak even to my own ears.

He placed his hands on the edge of the bed, not touching me, but creating a space that felt entirely focused on my response. The morning light caught the sharp angle of his jaw as he spoke the words that stopped my world:

"Marry me."

The silence that followed was deafening. I stared at him, certain I’d misheard. "What?"

"I can offer you a life of security and respect that no one else in your circle can provide." His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing a high-stakes merger rather than a lifelong commitment.

"Are you serious?" Heat rushed to my face. "You’re making a proposal to a stranger in a room like this? It’s completely inappropriate!"

I tried to push past the shock, clutching the sheet to my chest with a white-knuckled grip. "This is ridiculous!"

"Is it?" He didn't move, his presence as steady as a mountain. He caught my gaze, his hand coming up to tilt my chin just slightly, forcing me to meet that dark, unwavering stare.

"Just because you stepped in last night doesn't mean I owe you my life," I managed to say, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. "We aren't living in a fairy tale."

His eyes seemed to darken with a hidden depth. "The more you resist the idea, the more certain I am that you’re exactly the person I’m looking for."

"You don't even know me," I breathed, unable to look away.

"I know enough." His thumb brushed near my jawline, the briefest touch that felt like an electric current. "I know you’ve been underestimated. I know you’re looking for a way to fight back without losing yourself."

"Stop," I whispered, my hand pressing against his chest to maintain the distance between us. I could feel the steady, powerful beat of his heart through the fine fabric of his suit. "Just... stop."

His expression softened, the intensity giving way to a gesture that was startlingly gentle as he brushed a stray lock of hair from my forehead. "Don't sell yourself short, Summer." His grip on the moment remained firm, his voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to brand itself into my mind. "You aren't alone in this. Not anymore."

He leaned in until I could feel the warmth radiating from him, his final words sounding like a vow. "From now on, you have me."