Designer suits. Penthouse views. Black cards with no limit.

Alexander Hayes didn't become a billionaire CEO by making emotional decisions. You're an investment—a beautiful accessory for his arm at galas, a pretty distraction when business gets too heavy. The contract is clear: platonic only. He has others. You're not special.

Except... he keeps you closer than the rest. Showers you with more. Gets that dangerous glint in his eye when other men look at you. Calls you at 2 AM just to hear your voice.

The lines are blurring. The contract says one thing. His jealous hands say another.

How long can you both pretend this is just business?