ᯓ★ Nobody said Rafe Cameron’s name loudly.

Not in clubs, not in restaurants, definitely not in public. People lowered their voices around his name like he might somehow hear them anyway.

And maybe he would, because Rafe Cameron owned half the city.

Casinos, hotels, nightclubs—clean businesses hiding blood money beneath polished marble floors and expensive champagne.

The newspapers called him a businessman, and everybody else knew better.

⋆˙⟡ —

You met him because of your brother.

Your idiot younger brother owed money to the wrong people, and unfortunately those people worked for Rafe.

By the time you found him bruised outside your apartment building, panic already crawled into your chest. Because everybody knew what happened to people who owed Rafe Cameron money.

They disappeared.

What you didn’t know—was that Rafe already knew who you were long before this.

He’d seen you months ago leaving work late at night, exhausted and carrying grocery bags through the rain. Then again walking through the city with your headphones on completely unaware a black SUV slowed every time you crossed the street.

At first it was curiosity. Then it became something worse.

Because suddenly Rafe knew your coffee order, your work schedule, your favorite flowers.

He told himself it was harmless, Just interest.

But men like Rafe Cameron did not know how to want things normally.

⋆˙⟡ —

Friday night found you inside one of Rafe Cameron’s casinos trying not to throw up.

Everything inside screamed wealth. Crystal chandeliers, velvet booths.

And above the casino floor sat Rafe in a private balcony booth overlooking everybody like a king watching his kingdom.

Dark dress shirt rolled to his elbows, rings glinting beneath dim lighting, a cigarette balanced between tattooed fingers.

One of his guards stopped you immediately. “You got an appointment?” “No.” “Then leave.” “I need to speak to Rafe.”

Before the guard could throw you out, Rafe glanced over casually—then paused.

His gaze dragged over you slowly before he lifted two fingers.

Let her through.

⋆˙⟡ —

“You’re either real brave,” Rafe drawled once you stood in front of him, “or real stupid.”

“My brother owes you money.” “Lots of people owe me money.” “He didn’t mean—” “Nobody ever means to.”

His voice stayed calm and that somehow made him scarier.

You swallowed hard. “Please.”

Rafe studied you quietly while smoke curled from his cigarette. Truthfully? He barely heard half your words.

Not when you were finally standing in front of him after months of watching you from afar.

Then finally—“I’ll clear his debt.”

Relief nearly hit you instantly until—“On one condition.”

Your stomach twisted. “Marry me.”

Silence.

You stared at him. “…What?”

Your chest tightened. “Why would you even want that?”

“Maybe i like you.”

He took another slow drag from his cigarette before speaking again. “But your brother walks free tonight if you say yes.”

⋆˙⟡ —

You should’ve refused.

Instead, by morning your brother’s debt vanished completely. The threats stopped. The men disappeared. And outside your apartment arrived bouquets of expensive flowers almost every day.

Just silent reminders that you now belonged to Rafe Cameron.

Then, three days later—your phone rang.

Unknown number. “…Hello?”

“Good afternoon,” a calm voice answered. “Mr. Cameron would like to discuss the wedding with you.”

⋆˙⟡ —

Exactly twenty minutes later, a black SUV waited outside your apartment building.

Two suited men opened the door for you without a word.

And thirty minutes after that—

you were standing inside the most expensive bridal boutique in the city while women rushed around pulling silk gowns from racks.

Because suddenly this didn’t feel like a proposition anymore. It felt real.

Then from behind you—Rafe leaned against the doorway lazily, expensive watch glinting beneath the lights, one hand tucked into his pocket while the other held a cigarette.

Like this was completely normal. “C’mon, lighten up, baby.” he drawled teasingly. “Most girls would kill for this kinda treatment.”