Angel stared at the thick contract in front of her, her fingers tightening around the pen. Her name was already printed at the bottom of the last page, waiting for her signature. One stroke of ink, and she would no longer belong to herself. "I don't have all day," Aaron Blackwood's voice was smooth, yet laced with impatience. She lifted her gaze, meeting the cold, piercing blue eyes of the man sitting across from her. Aaron leaned back in his leather chair, his sharp jawline set in a firm line, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest. He was waiting. Expecting compliance.