Sold to the Alpha Billionaire By My Husband

(Aurora)

The moment Sebastian and I emerged from the sleek black limousine, a barrage of camera flashes erupted, painting the night in stark, blinding white. My husband’s arm slid around my waist with a practiced, possessive grip. His smile, dazzling and tender, was a masterpiece of public relations, and I mirrored it perfectly as we made our way toward the grand entrance of The Grand Elm Hotel, where the city’s elite had gathered.

Sebastian paused, his fingers gently tucking a stray auburn curl behind my ear before he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, pulling me even closer. A collective, almost wistful sigh rippled through the crowd of female journalists. I didn’t blame them. Sebastian Harrington was the blueprint for a fantasy husband: devastatingly handsome, impeccably dressed, towering, charming, and publicly devoted. The crowning glory? He was one of the wealthiest men on both sides of the Atlantic. Magazines chronicled his business triumphs, each article inevitably mentioning his wife as his muse.

Wherever we went, I was showered with congratulations for “landing” America’s most eligible bachelor.

The media adored him. Men coveted his success. Children aspired to be him. Women lost their minds over him, his wedding band be damned.

I used to be one of those women.

“Smile, Aurora. Your mask is slipping,” Sebastian murmured, the warning perfectly concealed behind another photogenic grin. “A face like yours shouldn’t be hidden away in the cellar for a week.”

My stomach clenched violently at the memory. Three days in that damp, windowless space with nothing but a pitcher of water, a “lesson” Sebastian insisted was necessary after I’d briefly refused to play my part at a previous function.

I had married a monster.

And by the time I realized it, every exit was sealed shut.

My stepfather’s construction empire had crumbled under his gambling debts. Sebastian paid them all, keeping the company—and my family’s extravagant lifestyle—afloat. He was the reason my comatose mother remained in the city’s best private care facility, the reason my stepfather and brother still lived without consequence. Sebastian had engineered a gilded cage with no key. My attempt to find a job ended with me in the cellar. My plea for help was twisted into a tale of a hysterical, ungrateful wife. One misstep, and he’d threaten to pull the plug on my mother’s life support.

I forced the corners of my lips upward.

“That’s my good girl.”

I waved at acquaintances, brightened my smile, and whispered back, “I’m counting the days until you burn, Sebastian.”

His responding laughter was rich and warm, drawing envious glances from wives who looked either bored or miserable in their own husbands’ arms. If only they knew.

“I need you at your absolute best tonight, Aurora,” Sebastian warned, though a dark amusement still danced in his eyes. It was a look that could have fooled me into believing in his love, if I hadn’t walked in on him and his secretary six months into our marriage. That moment shattered the illusion completely.

“I hear Blackwood is making an appearance. That bastard sabotaged another major acquisition of mine last week. I don’t know what his problem is, but it ends tonight. I’ll put him in his place. If you behave, I might even reconsider letting you work again.”

I didn’t believe him for a second.

Sebastian was obsessively possessive. He could stray as he pleased, but the thought of another man near me drove him mad. That’s why he made me quit modeling at the peak of my career, right after I’d won Model of the Year. I’d indulged him then, believing it was love. It was my greatest mistake.

For hours, I performed my role as Sebastian’s perfect puppet. I smiled, laughed airily, and endured the condescending chatter of society wives who acted as though I should be grateful for their inclusion, while their husbands’ eyes lingered on my figure, accentuated by a crimson silk gown.

Sebastian secretly reveled in their lustful stares. It fed his colossal ego. I was his ultimate trophy, to be paraded in public and broken in private.

“Where the hell is Blackwood? You said he’d be here!” Sebastian’s pleasant facade cracked as he hissed at his secretary, Coraline, at our table.

“Please, sir, I confirmed with Mr. Blackwood’s office yesterday. His assistant assured me he would attend,” Coraline replied, her gaze still dreamy and fixed on Sebastian despite his irritation.

Their eyes held a familiar, charged tension. I excused myself, needing air before the sight of them made me physically ill. When I returned from the restroom, they were both gone. No doubt finding a secluded corner, like the animals they were.

Just last week, Sebastian had disappeared with a waitress moments after we were seated for dinner, leaving me to dine alone. He’d stopped hiding his true nature after I caught him the first time; in fact, he seemed relieved.

Swallowing the acid rage in my throat, I made my way to the bar, ordered a martini, and tried to numb the edges. That’s when I felt it—a shift in the atmosphere. A wave of murmurs and sharp intakes of breath swept through the room behind me.

But I was too wrapped in my own bitterness to care. I signaled for another drink as someone occupied the stool beside me.

An intoxicating scent of aged leather, sandalwood, and something wild and primal filled my senses, compelling me to look. I found the source already watching me with eyes the color of a stormy sea. He lifted a crystal glass with a hand adorned with intricate black tattoos, bringing it to his lips, his gaze never leaving mine.

My heart, which I’d believed had turned to stone two years ago, gave a sudden, frantic kick against my ribs.

If the devil had once been an angel, he must have looked like this man. He was… breathtaking. Illegally so. I’d worked with countless beautiful men, but none compared. His features were sharply carved, his jawline defiant, his lashes absurdly long. He was broader, more powerfully built than Sebastian, and everything about him radiated a controlled, predatory danger.

A predator even more formidable than my husband.

“You must be Aurora, Harrington’s lovely wife. He shouldn’t have left you unattended. Doesn’t he know the rule?”

In that instant, I knew exactly who he was.

Griffin Blackwood.