Damn it!

Every muscle in her body ached as if she’d been run over by a truck.

Dane stared blankly at the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, fragments of last night flashing through her mind. That relentless man, taking her again and again, his weight pressing down on her—but her memory was hazy, his face just out of focus.

She had just returned from Italy yesterday, right in time for Mira’s birthday party. Provoked by Lane, she had downed three glasses in a row. And then…

Someone must have spiked her drink.

If she ever found out who did it, she’d slap them senseless right then and there!

As she turned, her gaze landed on a breathtakingly handsome face—bronzed, chiseled, and utterly striking. The moment she moved, his eyes snapped open, and a large hand clamped around her wrist like a vise.

It was him.

Him!

Logan!!!

Dane’s face drained of color, her mind reeling as if struck by lightning. She scrambled off the bed in panic, but his grip was unyielding.

"Dane, you think you can just use me and run?" His voice was icy, laced with undisguised contempt, as frigid as midwinter frost.

Three years of being trampled underfoot had taught Dane to mask her fear with composure. Forcing a tight smile onto her delicate, angelic face, she swallowed the hurt in her eyes and quipped, "Mr. Logan, we were both drunk last night. Who used who is still up for debate."

As she spoke, she subtly tried to hook her scattered clothes closer with her foot. Standing there naked in front of him was beyond awkward.

"Dane, what happened last night was an accident." Logan's voice was icy, as if he couldn't wait to sever all ties with her. "I'm your future brother-in-law. The woman I love is Mira!"

He even emphasized, "Future brother-in-law!" as if afraid she hadn’t heard him clearly.

Mira—her sister, and also her sworn enemy. A cold smirk curled Dane’s lips. So, the Isla family had managed to latch onto the Knights, huh?

Her 'future brother-in-law'? Her heart twisted painfully, but she threw her head back and let out a mocking laugh. "Well then, let’s see how much hush money Mr. Logan is willing to pay."

Logan narrowed his eyes, his expression dark and terrifying. He shot her a disdainful glance before releasing her wrist and coldly pulling on his clothes. "Name your price, Dane. Anything except marriage or being with me—just say it."

Oh-ho! That domineering tone of his was worthy of the ten years she’d spent obsessing over him. The more she thought about it, the sharper the pain in her chest grew.

Logan, you have some nerve.

"Three years apart, and Mr. Logan has only grown more overbearing! Though I suppose only someone as blind as Mira would keep you chasing her for three years without an ending."Dane had always loved stomping right on people’s sore spots.

Just like before, Logan couldn’t even be bothered to spare her a glance or a single contemptuous word.

He treated her like the plague—distant, indifferent.

If not for what had happened last night, he probably would’ve considered sharing the same room with her a disgrace.

Just like three years ago, when she had revolved around him, molding her happiness entirely to his preferences. His attitude had been the same back then.

Cold. Detached. Heartless.

"Three hundred and fifty thousand. Pocket change for you, Young Master Logan." Dane stretched lazily before picking up her clothes and slipping them on with deliberate slowness. Every movement was as unhurried as if she were lounging in her own home, exuding the effortless grace of an aloof noblewoman.