Bound To The Ruthless CEO By Elder RM

The men came on a Thursday.

I'd just gotten home from a double shift at Rosario's, my feet screaming, my uniform reeking of garlic and marinara. All I wanted was a shower and six hours of sleep before my 8 AM economics lecture.

Instead, I found two strangers standing in my hallway.

They wore suits that cost more than my rent. One blocked the stairwell. The other leaned against my apartment door like he owned the building.

"Wren Castellano?" The leaner one smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.

My keys bit into my palm. "Who's asking?"

"Someone who'd like a word."

Every instinct screamed run. But the stairwell guy had sixty pounds on me, easy. And my fire escape was rusted shut, had been since I moved in.

"I don't have any money," I said flatly. "If my father sent you, "

"Mr. Thorne doesn't want your money, Miss Castellano."

Thorne.

The name slithered through my mind, triggering fragments of headlines I'd skimmed. Tech acquisitions. Hostile takeovers. A profile in Forbes that called him "The Coldest Man in Venture Capital."

Why the hell would someone like that know my name?

"I've never met anyone named Thorne."

"You will." The man straightened, buttoning his jacket. "Tonight. A car is waiting downstairs. I suggest you don't keep him waiting, he's not a patient man."

"And if I refuse?"

The stairwell guy shifted. Just slightly. Just enough for me to see the outline of something at his hip.

Okay then.

I walked.

To be continued...