Prologue
The first thing Ember Rose felt was the sting in her throat.
Dry. Burned. Hollow.
The second was cold.
The silk sheets beneath her were too smooth, too expensive. The room smelled like cedarwood and smoke—foreign, masculine. Her head throbbed like it had been split open and stitched back together with fire. She tried to move, but her limbs were heavy. Her body felt sluggish, unfamiliar.
And then… the third thing.
A deep, steady breath beside her.
Her eyes flew open. Her blood ran cold.
A man lay half-covered by the sheets, his chiseled chest bare, his features sharp and heartbreakingly familiar. Because she'd seen him before—on billboards, in magazines, on news channels.
And once... once at her friend Damien's house. This man was his older brother. She remembered spotting him with his fiancée, Veronica Chase.
Ethan Hart.
The countries youngest billionaire. Cold-blooded CEO of Hart Industries. And the man set to marry Veronica in three months.
A man she had never meant to end up in bed with.
Terror clawed its way up Ember's spine as she yanked the sheet around her body, her breath shattering into ragged, frantic pieces.
What happened?
Flashes came in bursts.
A drink she never finished.
A strange woman's too-sweet smile.
Darkness.
Hands.
Laughter.
A locked door.
Then—
A knock. Loud. Panicked.
The bedroom door burst open. A man in a suit stormed in, holding a phone, pale and wide-eyed.
Ethan stirred beside her, groaning as he sat up. His eyes landed on her—confused, then sharp.
"You," he growled, voice raw. "Why the hell are you in my bed?"
"I-I don't know, sir," Ember whispered, trembling. "I swear, I don't remember anything—"
"Sir… the video," the man interrupted, holding out the phone. "It's already viral."
Ethan shot upright, the sheet falling away.
"What video?" he barked.
The man hesitated, then spoke carefully. "A sex tape. Of you two. It leaked sometime last night. It's everywhere."
Ethan's gaze snapped back to Ember—dark, dangerous, unreadable. His jaw clenched. His fists balled.
"I didn't do anything," Ember said shakily. "I don't remember—"
"Call my PR team," Ethan barked. "Get it erased. Now."
The man's face turned grimmer.
"It's too late, sir. It's already spread like wildfire.
Ethan's eyes burned with rage as he stood up, dragging the sheet around his waist.
Then, without a word, he stormed over to her side of the bed and gripped her wrist with bruising force.
"Get. Out."
Ember stumbled as he yanked her to her feet, her body still trembling, heart crashing against her ribs. She clutched the sheet tightly around her as he shoved her toward the door like she was filth contaminating his world.
"I hate this type of woman," he spat, voice like venom. "Desperate. Clingy. Fame-hungry little snakes who would sell their soul—and body—for a headline."
Tears welled in her eyes. "Please… I don't even know how I got here—"
He wasn't listening.
With one swift, furious motion, he grabbed her crumpled dress from the floor and flung it in her face.
"Put it on and get the hell out before I have security drag you out half-naked," he growled. "And trust me, they won't be gentle."
Ember stood frozen, the fabric slipping from her shaking fingers. Humiliation scorched her skin like fire. Shame pooled in her stomach, thick and heavy.
She had no memory. No explanation. Just the video send from her phone … and his hatred.