His Sister's Fiancé, My Forbidden Protector

The wind on the terrace of The Vault was not unforgiving. It was cruel.

It whipped against the thin silk of Scarlett Miller's emerald evening gown, biting into her exposed skin, but she didn't shiver. She couldn't. Her body had gone numb three scotches ago.

Inside, through the heavy velvet curtains and the soundproof glass, the Manhattan elite were celebrating. Crystal glasses clinked. Laughter erupted like gunfire. Somewhere in that warm, golden room, Sebastian Vance was announcing his engagement to a woman who wasn't Scarlett. A woman whose last name came with a trust fund and a seat on the board of the Met.

Scarlett gripped the cold railing. Below her, the city was a grid of electric veins, pulsing with life she no longer felt part of. She brought the crystal tumbler to her lips, draining the last of the amber liquid. It burned going down, a welcome distraction from the hollow ache in her chest.

Click.

The sound was sharp. Distinct.

Scarlett jumped, her heel catching in the gap of the wooden decking. She spun around, her heart hammering against her ribs.

A flame flared in the shadows of the terrace corner. It illuminated a hand-large, long-fingered, a heavy gold signet ring on the pinky. The flame moved up, lighting the tip of a cigar, and for a split second, a face.

Sharp cheekbones. A jawline that looked like it had been carved from granite. Eyes that were dark, intelligent, and currently watching her with an unsettling lack of interest.

Harrison Sterling Jr.

He snapped the lighter shut. The darkness returned, swallowing him whole, leaving only the glowing cherry of the cigar.

"You're going to break your neck," a voice said. It was deep, scraping against the silence like gravel.

Scarlett tried to steady herself, but the alcohol had compromised her balance. She tugged at her foot. The heel was stuck. "I didn't know anyone was out here."

"Obviously." He didn't move to help her. He just leaned against the brick wall, exhaling a plume of smoke that drifted toward her, mixing with the scent of rain and expensive cologne. "If you're planning to jump, I'd advise against it. The awning on the second floor will just break your legs. It's a messy way to die."

"I'm not jumping," Scarlett snapped, tugging harder. "I'm just... stuck."

She yanked her foot. The shoe gave way suddenly.

Physics took over. Scarlett lurched backward, arms flailing. She braced for the impact of the hard wood, squeezing her eyes shut.

It never came.

An arm, hard as iron, banded around her waist. The impact knocked the breath out of her. She was slammed against a wall of solid muscle and wool. Her hands instinctively grabbed the lapels of his cashmere coat to steady herself.

She looked up.

Harrison was looking down. Up close, he was terrifyingly handsome. Not the pretty-boy handsome of Sebastian Vance. This was a dangerous, predatory kind of beauty. His eyes were the color of a stormy ocean, and