Prologue

• MAKUA •

"You should consider getting a boob job."

"Excuse me?"

Ramiro Knight smirked behind the wine glass drawn to his lips. The sturdy, middle-aged and mirthful tycoon found anything pertaining to my body an amusing topic of discussion.

His eyes widened at every slight move I made from across the table, lips pulled in a suggestive smile that made my skin crawl. I looked down at the curve of my cleavage and felt the heat rush to my cheeks.

I was never conscious of my chest size and found it moderate for my body, yet his proposal almost felt justified as I stated at them. I hated the insecure feeling that gripped me at his suggestion.

It was our first time meeting and the only thing stopping me from running away from this secluded booth was my manager's stern look. She'd spent the past few month pulling every string that existed and didn't to get a date with one of the most sought out bachelors in the industry.

Not to mention that he was one of the most influential and apparently on the Grammy chair committee. I needed this meeting more than he could care for, but the amount of comments he rolled out since the appetizers rolled in, made it hard to stay calm.

He dropped the wine glass on the table slowly, his eyes darkened as he drew his attention to my face — for the first time. "What? I'll cover the expenses of course. I have a preference to the size but I can endure it for tonight."

I found myself nodding, sipping from my glass quietly. I just needed to get through one night with him, get on his good side and get a great deal.

My smile spreads across my face and I leaned of forward, hoping that I looked as seductive as practiced. Just need to endure it. "Why don't we have desert then, privately?"

His grin curls further and he pushes his plate forward before smoothing his dark curls back. "Eager, are we? We're alone right now and no one will disturb us here. Desert doesn't sound bad."

I swallow the lump in my throat and refuse to let my smile waver. "I think we should go somewhere more private."

"What's the rush? Let's not ruin the mood." A frown replaces his smile and he's already on his feet before I could protest. Though the private booth we had was sealed off from other patrons, it wasn't technically soundproof and the thought of someone walking in made me sick to my stomach.

But Ramiro was already behind me, his hands massaging the side of my neck and my shoulders. "I thought you were interested in getting the top spot on the charts this week?"

He leaned over until his lips were at my ear, "All I need to do is make one phone call and no one would ever compete with you again."

"But-"

"And all I need from you is your obedience, Makua." The roughness in his voice made my heart drop. I could feel the tense movement of his palms over the strap of my dress, slowly pulling it down but I jerked without thinking.

He straightened his back, walking towards the side of the table and without warning, He drags the drapes of the table linen to the floor in one move. I cover my ears at the shattering and clatter of glass. "Mr. Knight, please calm down,"

"I thought I told you to be obedient." His hands grip the sides of my arms firmly and hoists me unto the clear table, pushing my body down as his lips roughly find mine.

Now, I'm praying for someone, anyone to walk in but no one seemed to be alarmed by it. I hadn't done proper research on him before arriving like I usually did. No one knew much about his sex life and anyone that did had to sign an NDA. Like I had before walking in here.

I struggled against him, but his grip was firm, his body hard and heavily pressed against mine. He rode my gown up and latched onto the waistband of my panties, ripping them off in a flurry of moves. His deep chuckle reverberated against my skin as he fumbled with the buckle of his jeans.

This is fine, I can take it. My career would take off after this. I tried to comfort and calm myself while the tears fled and stained my cheeks. When his hands prodded my legs apart, I shut my eyes tightly, keeping my sobs at bay as the seconds dialed down to minutes.

Until his movements suddenly stopped. I felt his weight crash harder into me, wiping the air right out my lungs. Warm and wet liquid dribbled over the side of my neck as his head nestled into it. My eyes remained shut, I was struggling to breathe, my head pounding with thoughts and relief that he hadn't started anything yet. But fear slipped right back at the sound of footsteps surrounding me.

By the time I opened them, I felt the sudden relief of his body being lifted off me only to see his limp body being held by two men dressed in black. Streaks of blood traced from my body and poured from an open gash that seemed to be at his head. My hands clamped down on my mouth as I swallowed down a scream.

"Cosa facciamo con la prostituta?" What do we do with the prostitute? One of the men muttered out loud, the eyes of the men focused on me. My heartbeat flooded my ears and I prayed to whoever was out there to save me from this situation. What if they thought I was related to him? What if I was going to be executed silently. Who would even know that I was here? Would I just disappear?

As if on cue, movement from the entrance caused the men to turn their attention to the person walking in. I was too scared to sneak a peek, praying that whoever that was would save me from this predicament.

The men bowed their heads as he approached the table, dark eyes meeting mine with a stoic expression. I couldn't seem to focus much but the unforgiving look of disgust or was it annoyance etched into his face was something I could never forget. He drew closer until his tall frame towered over mine curled unto the table. It felt like hours spent under the scrutiny of his dark gaze. When he finally spoke, I knew that I would never forget those words. Forever embedded in the walls of my mind.

"Finalmente ti ho trovato."

I've finally found you.