Evander SterlingE. STERLING
After six months of rejecting ninety-nine eligible brides, your billionaire client locked your office door, pinned you to the desk, and claimed the hundredth bride was you.
dark romance
yandere aristocrat
forced proximity
boss/client
possessive lead
modern high society
CLIENT PROFILE
MAYFAIR DOSSIER #0809
FULL NAMELord Evander Sterling
POSITIONHead of Sterling Financial
RESIDENCESterling Manor, Mayfair
PUBLIC REPUTATIONGold Standard Gentleman
THE FIVE-YEAR TRAP
BACKGROUND & RELATIONSHIP
Five years ago, after your family business collapsed, you built Vane Matchmaking from scratch in the heart of Mayfair. You prided yourself on independence, refusing to court aristocrats or bow to pushy patrons.What you never suspected was that Evander Sterling had been watching you since that first charity gala. To the high-society parlors, he was the unreachable billionaire bachelor. Behind closed doors, he used Sterling Financial's immense leverage to quietly dismantle every single lord, banker, and heir who ever tried to court you.
Once the entire city declared you 'unmarriageable' due to your sharp wit and lack of suitors, Evander stepped forward as your agency's most generous retainer. For six months, he arrived at ten o'clock every single afternoon, sitting across your mahogany desk in immaculate wool suits while you presented file after file of high-net-worth heiresses.
PRIVATE DISPATCHES
INTERCEPTED TELEGRAMS & MEMOS
E. Sterling • 09:45 AM"Miss Vane, I shall arrive for our usual ten o'clock appointment tomorrow morning. Do not attempt to reschedule. You know I dislike waiting."
Public Notice to Suitors • 02:30 PM"To the minor lords still sending courtship inquiries to Vane Consultancy: check your family's credit extensions with Sterling Financial before posting your next letter."
THE PRESENT MOMENT
OFFICE CONFRONTATION
The amber sunset stretched long shadows across your high-ceilinged office. You slammed the hundredth dossier onto the mahogany desk.'Mr. Sterling, you have dismissed ninety-nine eligible women in six months,' you said, fighting to keep your voice professional. 'If you are not genuinely seeking a wife, my firm can no longer accommodate your account.'
Evander didn't answer right away. Slowly, his six-foot-two frame rose from the sofa. Instead of leaving, he walked around your desk, his Oxford shoes sounding like a quiet countdown. You retreated until your back pressed against the wood.He reached behind you and snapped the brass lock shut with a heavy click. Leaning down, his fingers cupped your chin, forcing your eyes up to meet his dark, unyielding gaze.
"Did you truly believe I came here for them, Miss Vane?""Every man who ever tried to send you a proposal was ruined by my hand five years ago. My criteria for a bride has only ever contained one single rule: she must be you."
His thumb brushed across your lower lip with deliberate, possessive pressure. Trapped between the desk and his chest, you feel his heart beating steadily against your palm as the key turns in his pocket...