Page 3 of Surrender to Me

“That’s not exactly a traditional investment agreement,” I said carefully, taking another sip of my drink.

He smirked, slow and knowing. “No, it’s not.”

I exhaled, gripping the edge of the bar, my mind spinning. “You don’t even know me,” I pointed out.

“Not yet,” he said, his eyes gliding over me in a way that made my pulse skyrocket. “But by the end of the weekend, I will.”

I swallowed hard, narrowing my eyes. I could say no. Ishouldsay no.But I was drowning in debt from spending so much of my full-time paycheck as a receptionist, my business was on the verge of either thriving or dying, and this man—whoever he was—had the kind of wealth that could change my entire future. All I had to do was surrender to him.

Oh, hell no. Bitch, walk away, I told myself. Instead, I took a slow, deep breath and whispered, “What happensafterthe weekend?”

His gaze darkened, his smirk sharpening. “After the weekend, we go back to our lives.” A pause. Then, in a voice that was dangerously smooth, he added, “But for the next couple of days… you’ll be mine.”

Silence stretched between us, thick with something I couldn’t name. My heart was thumping in my chest, my drink forgotten, my pulse thrumming at the base of my throat. His offer sat between us like a loaded gun. No strings. A deal. A business transaction wrapped in something crazy, something seductive, something that made my mind race with possibilities I had no business considering.

He was offering me a world I’d never stepped into before. And if I said yes, I had no doubt he would take me under in every possible way. I forced myself to meet his gaze, steady, even though my breath was uneven. “And what if I don’t accept?”

He shrugged. “Then you finish your drink and go back to pitching to investors who don’t give a fuck about your business.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. Damn. He wasn’t even trying to sell it to me. He didn’t need to. He knew what he was offering was temptation wrapped in a blank check.

“I don’t even know your name.”

He smirked at me before licking his full lips. “Legend Waters and yours?”

I watched as his gaze flickered over my lips before meeting my eyes again. “Honey Lake.”

Nodding, he carefully and effortlessly reached into his pocket, pulled out a black business card, and set it on the bar in front of me. His fingernail were clean as hell and his fingers, tattooed and precise, tapped it once as if sealing something invisible between us. “No pressure,” he said smoothly. “But if you decide to accept…” His dark eyes flickered with something dangerous, something possessive. “…be at my place by midnight.”

I swallowed. This shit was like a damn fairy tale with a much dirtier ending. “And if I do?” I asked quietly, not even sure why I was pushing this, why I wasn’t already running in the opposite direction.

“Then once you step through my door, there’s no turning back.”

The weight of his words settled deep in my stomach, curling into something hot, something restless. I glanced down at the card, my fingers hovering over it. When I looked back up, he was already standing, smooth and unhurried as he finished his drink. Then, before I could even process it, he turned and walked away.

I sat there, my breath shaky, my mind a mess, staring at the card in front of me.

Legend.

No last name.

No company name.

Just a name and address.

I exhaled, slow and measured, and picked up my glass, swirling the last inch of Tequila. The ice had melted, watering it down, but I still took the final sip, letting the burn slide down my throat as I tried to get my racing thoughts under control.

This was fucking crazy. No, beyond crazy. This was some movie or urban fiction type of shit. I should have been offended. Outraged. Instead, I was sitting here, still thinking about it. I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head at myself before finally sliding the damn card into my clutch, snapping it shut with more force than necessary.

I wasn’t making any reckless decisions. Not yet. Instead, I was going to do what I came here to do—network my ass off, sell my brand, and land a damn investor the normal way. Maybe that would be enough to stop my pulse from pounding the way it did when I thought about what midnight could look like.

Back at the mixer, it was still in full swing, the energy just as overwhelming as before. Laughter bubbled in small circles, champagne flutes clinked, and the power dynamics in the room were so strong I could feel them pressing against my skin.

I forced myself to reset, plastering a poised, determined expression on my face before slipping back into the crowd. If I wasn’t going to sell my soul to a rich man, then I was going to sell my damn brand the right way.

I found myself next to a pretty woman with deep brown skin, a cute pixie cut, and an emerald green jumpsuit that screamed effortless confidence. She caught my gaze, smirked, and lifted her champagne flute in a silent toast before stepping closer.

“You looked like you were about to give up earlier,” she murmured, voice smooth and knowing. “But you came back. Respect.”

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