TWISTED VOWS

I woke up to the scent of expensive cologne and sin.

The sheets were silk, the mattress too soft-definitely not mine. A sharp ache throbbed behind my temples as I blinked against the morning light filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows.

And then I saw him.

Dominic Caldwell.

Lying beside me.

Naked.

My stomach twisted. My pulse pounded so hard I thought I might pass out. My mouth parted, but no sound came out as the memories crashed into me like a violent storm.

The gala. The champagne. The heated argument that had turned into something far more dangerous.

Oh, God.

I shoved the sheets aside, ignoring the way my bare skin prickled with mortification. The night came back in flashes-his hands gripping my waist, his lips on my throat, his voice like dark velvet whispering things I shouldn't have wanted.

What the hell had I done?

I needed to leave. Now.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, reaching for my dress on the floor. But before I could grab it, a deep, lazy voice stopped me.

"Running already, Sinclair?"

I froze. My fingers curled around the fabric as I turned to face him. Dominic lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching me like a predator amused by his prey. Tousled dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and the kind of smirk that had ruined lives.

I swallowed. "Last night was a mistake."

His smirk deepened. "That's not what you were saying a few hours ago."

Heat crawled up my spine, but I refused to let him see how much he affected me. I yanked my dress over my head, ignoring the smug look in his eyes. "This never happened."

He chuckled, the sound low and infuriating. "You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."

I grabbed my heels and turned to leave. I needed to get as far away from Dominic Caldwell as possible.

But as soon as I opened the door, I stopped dead.

Standing in the hallway, waiting for me like a ghost from my worst nightmares, was my father.

Senator Richard Sinclair.

His expression was unreadable, but the tension rolling off him was suffocating. "Get dressed properly and meet me downstairs. Now."

Panic spiked in my chest, but I masked it quickly. Years of dealing with powerful men had taught me how to school my expression, how to appear untouchable even when the world was collapsing around me.

I didn't look back at Dominic as I stepped out.

But I felt his gaze burning into my skin.

****

My father was already seated in the private lounge of the hotel when I arrived. His expression was carved from stone, the same one he used during political negotiations.

This wasn't a conversation between a father and daughter. This was business.

I took the seat across from him, crossing my arms. "Before you say anything, let me make one thing clear-I don't care what you think about last night."

He didn't flinch. "This isn't about last night."

My stomach tightened. "Then what is it about?"

He leaned forward, folding his hands together. "Your engagement."

A cold chill ran down my spine. "My what?"

His gaze locked onto mine. "You're going to marry Dominic Caldwell."

I laughed. A sharp, bitter sound. "I'm sorry, did I hit my head last night? Because I could've sworn you just said I was marrying the man I despise."

"I did." His tone was flat. "And you are."

I pushed back from the table. "No. Whatever political game you're playing, I want no part of it."

"You don't have a choice, Elena."

His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that sent unease crawling up my spine.