Chapter 15
“Wanna get married?”
The second Rachel said those words, she could hear the complete silence on the other end-even his breathing stopped.
She gripped the phone, her fingertips ice-cold while her palms broke out in a cold sweat.
Three seconds.
Five seconds.
Finally-
“Yeah.”
His response came low and decisive.
Before he could say anything else, Rachel hung up with a sharp click.
Her heart was pounding like a war drum-she couldn’t tell if it was regret, nerves, or… relief.
Three years ago, he’d come to her personally, saying all she had to do was nod and he’d keep her out of prison.
But she’d stubbornly refused: “They’re my family. I refuse to believe they’d actually abandon me.”
Reality had hit her like a sledgehammer-she’d spent three years behind bars while those precious “family members” threw her into the abyss without a shred of guilt.
And that man, whom she’d pushed away again and again, had finally stopped coming around.
She’d thought they were done for good.
Until now.
Joanne was forcing her to break off the engagement, desperate to secure Sophie a good match. But she’d forgotten one crucial
detail-
Jaxon wasn’t the only Rothschild heir.
Rachel had other options.
Nicolas Rothschild-Jaxon’s uncle, the real power behind the throne. He’d ruthlessly purged the old guard and doubled the company’s value within a year. The media was full of speculation about him, but nobody really knew who he was.
He didn’t do interviews, never appeared in public-a complete shadow player.
Reaching out to him now was Rachel’s nuclear option.
And he’d said yes.
This marriage would completely destroy the Leroix family’s relationship with Jaxon.
It would also drag her right back into the power games she’d tried to escape.
The day after Rachel agreed to break off her engagement with Jaxon, Joanne mysteriously dragged her to a blind date at some upscale coffee shop downtown.
“This is Quincy Rock, from Boston. His uncle runs Rock Industries.” Joanne was practically glowing with satisfaction. “Rachel, have a nice chat. You never know what might happen.”
“Miss Leroix, you’ve got this… intense vibe. Really gets my attention.”
Quincy immediately offered her an expensive bracelet, eyeing her like she was merchandise for sale. Despite Rachel’s repeated refusals, he kept getting more aggressive, forcing the bracelet onto her wrist while his fingers “accidentally” lingered on her skin.
Rachel felt sick to her stomach. She excused herself to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, but couldn’t wash away the disgust.
She was ready to reject him outright, but on her way back, Quincy cornered her. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s at least grab dinner. I’ve gotta have something to tell my old man, you know?”
He was playing innocent, but his tone was testing her boundaries. “Look, I’m not some uptight prude. The whole prison thing? Doesn’t bother me. I actually prefer women who’ve been around the block.”
The way he said it made Rachel’s skin crawl. She forced herself to stay polite, just wanting this nightmare to end.
Dinner was at some fancy restaurant on the top floor.
Quincy’s conversation got increasingly crude. “Hell of a view up here. Be a real shame to waste a night like this. Maybe we should find somewhere more… intimate.”
His hand suddenly clamped down on her thigh.
Rachel went rigid, immediately standing to leave. But Quincy grabbed her wrist, his nice-guy mask finally slipping to reveal his true predatory nature. “What’s the attitude for? You let me wine and dine you-pretty sure we both know what that means. You think you’re still some untouchable princess? Who else is gonna want a jailbird like you?”
He leaned in close, his hand sliding to her waist, breath heavy with booze and something darker. “Come on, baby. You’ve been locked up for three years. Don’t tell me you’re not… hungry.”
Rachel gritted her teeth and smashed a wine bottle against the table edge. A shard of glass sliced across Quincy’s face, and blood immediately started trickling down.
“You psycho bitch!” He lunged at her in rage.
Rachel drove her knee hard into his groin and threw hot coffee in his face.
While he was screaming, she bolted-through the restaurant, down the stairs, into the street, until she crashed straight into what felt like a warm wall.
“Throwing yourself at me now?” Nicolas looked down at her, his tone mocking.
Three years later, he was even more intimidating than she remembered, his gaze sharp as a blade. But he was standing between her and the world.
Before she could react, Nicolas had pulled her into a dark alley and pressed her against the wall.
From the other direction, she could hear Quincy’s furious cursing, but he had no idea she’d already escaped into a different kind of trap.
Chapter 15
Nicolas looked down at her, his eyes unreadable. “So… fresh out of prison and already test-driving potential husbands?”
