Rejecting the CEO's Vows

When Kingston lost his sight, I took him in off the streets. He used to nip at my earlobes, whispering against my skin that he was my loyal boy.

In the dead of night, his calloused hands would map every curve of my body over and over again, claiming he was trying to memorize what I looked like through touch.

Then, his vision returned. The stray I had saved turned out to be the missing heir to a ruthless billionaire empire—and he already had a glamorous fiancée waiting in the wings.

Before he could ever lay eyes on me, I left behind a forged death certificate and vanished into thin air. I stayed hidden off the grid for five years.

It was only when the news of his highprofile wedding broke that I finally dared to step back into the light.

But the second my flight touched the tarmac, a swarm of men in black suits locked down the airstrip.

Kingston ruthlessly tore apart the custom haute couture wedding gown in his grip. He slammed me hard against the door of the private jet.

His eyes—dark, volatile, and deeply invasive—locked onto me like an apex predator cornering its prey.

His rough, scorching fingertips traced slowly down my spine, dragging with a dangerous, punishing heat. "You dared to fake your death and run from me?" he gritted out, his voice a lethal rasp against my skin. "Now, I'm going to do things my way.

I will carve your measurements back into my brain, inch by inch." Chapter 1 Nadine dragged me to the door of the VIP room, but my feet were glued to the floor.

I couldn't force myself to step inside. Because Kingston, the billionaire heir of the empire, was sitting right in there.

Through the halfopen door, a syrupy voice drifted out. "Mr. Kingston, rumor has it that when you went missing back then, you lost your sight?

That must have been a grueling time for you." Kingston let out a low, scoffing laugh. "I wouldn't call it grueling. I had someone tending to my every need.

Frankly, life was easier then than it is now." "That must have been your fiancée, right? True love forged in adversity.

Congratulations, it's a blessing to see soulmates end up together…" "No." Kingston cut him off. His voice was cold, devoid of warmth. "She's right here." My breath hitched.

My head snapped up. Through the narrow gap in the door, I watched him point a finger straight down at the floorboards. "Buried right here." Oh, right.

I was already "dead." Five years ago, Kingston had signed my death certificate with his own hand.

Nadine, leaning in to eavesdrop beside me, whispered, "That chick had terrible luck.

If she hadn't died, she'd be living like a queen right now…" I let out a dry laugh. "Impossible." Nadine frowned at me. "Why are you so sure?" I swirled the champagne in my glass, a careless smirk playing on my lips. "Because five years ago, I tied him to a bed, drained him of every ounce of his value, and dumped him like trash." His large, calloused hands tracked my voice, violently yanking me into his chest.

His heavy, scorching breath fanned across the crook of my neck, wrapping me instantly in the overwhelming pheromones of an apex predator.

As his fingertips grazed the sensitive skin of my chest in a punishing motion, I could vividly feel his tight abs and surging desire—dangerous and lethal.

He locked his arms around me, sealing my lips with a crushing kiss… I was deep in that memory when a waiter pushing a catering cart suddenly slammed into me.

A startled gasp escaped my throat. The impact threw me off balance, and the halfopen door of the VIP room swung wide open.

Sitting directly facing the door, Kingston's eyes snapped up. He looked straight at me. Our eyes locked. Ice water flooded my veins.

My muscles locked up; I couldn't even manage the simple motion of turning around. But the freeze only lasted for a few seconds.

Thank god for five years of grinding in the real world—it had taught me how to plaster on a flawless, fake smile. It was actually hilarious.

Even though Kingston and I had shared a bed for two whole years. Even though his hands had mapped my face and body more times than my own ever had.

To him, I was just a dead girl whose face he had never even seen. So what if we slept together? How could a blind man recognize someone he'd never laid eyes on?

Just as I expected, Kingston didn't recognize me. When we clinked our glasses later, his dark eyes were bottomless but utterly freezing.

The sheer weight of his stare landing on me made the hairs on my arms stand up. It was the exact same feeling as the first time I met him.

It was a chaotic night, rain lashing down under the crack of thunder. I had just lost my mom forever at the hospital.

Stumbling home through a dark, narrow alleyway, my limbs heavy and numb, I tripped over something. He leaned against the narrow brick wall like an enraged alpha wolf.

Even though his obscenely expensive, customtailored Italian suit was soaked in mud, those obsidian eyes still radiated a suffocating, alpha dominance that cut straight through the dark night.

Chapter 2 Ultimately, I dragged Kingston back to my rundown, cheap apartment and emptied my meager savings to patch him up.

Although he tried his hardest to conceal it, I could recognize the handstitched leather shoes and that priceless Patek Philippe watch.

I knew he was absolutely no stray dog—he was a man of immense power caught in deep trouble. But he needed a safe haven, and I needed him to owe me a deadly favor.

It was a dangerous, but highly lucrative trade. Nadine pinched the back of my hand. "What's going on in that head of yours?

You're actually smiling." I snapped back to reality, the smirk freezing on my lips.

Catching my reaction, Nadine shot me a warning glare. "Sloane, don't tell me you've got your eyes on Kingston.

Let me make this crystal clear—he's notoriously ruthless and untouchable.

Any woman who tries to play games with him ends up destroyed." "Rumor has it his fiancée is his childhood sweetheart, a literal princess in the elite social circles.

Their bond is bulletproof. Don't let yourself get mesmerized." "A man like that is way out of your league. One wrong move, and you'll cross him permanently." Cross him?

Well… When I finally made the call to ditch Kingston, I tied him to my cheap, hundreddollar mattress. I rode him ruthlessly for three straight hours.

I sneered, tipping his chin up, and slapped a stack of bills onto his handsome face, which contorted into a dark snarl. "I've been very satisfied with your services these past two years.

Consider this your tip. I'm bored of this little playinghouse game.

Don't ever show your face in front of me again." The veins on Kingston's wrists bulged, practically snapping the ropes.

His eyes burned with a psychotic, territorial obsession as he growled like a demon, "Sloane, the second I get my hands on you, I will chain you to my bed and make you wake up begging for mercy every single day!" For a man used to absolute control, not even losing his sight was as humiliating as what I did to him.

If we're talking about crossing him, I had already crossed every single line. Thankfully, I was already "dead." I suppose I owed his fiancée a thank you for that one.

Besides, after the toasts tonight, the chances of me ever running into Kingston again were absolute zero.

Lost in my thoughts, I casually wandered out into the hotel's manicured gardens. I lifted my gaze, only to freeze.

A tall, imposing figure stood in the shadows, a lit cigarette pinched between his long fingers. It was Kingston. He turned his head and locked eyes with me.

My mind raced, trying to formulate an escape plan, but then he suddenly called out in my direction. "Resurrection." My heart slammed against my ribs. Re… Resurrection?

Did he recognize me?! Luckily, right before my trembling hands exposed me, a small dog darted out from behind him and affectionately nuzzled against my leg.

It was the little mutt I used to keep. Because of my chronic indecision, I had never settled on a name for him back then. Kingston had actually adopted him?

And named him "Resurrection"! A resurrection of what? …The resurrection of the dead girl who faked her own demise? A sudden, violent shudder ripped down my spine.

If he ever found out I wasn't dead, that I had played him like a fool… The fallout would be catastrophic. "Resurrection, quit messing around," Kingston ordered, crushing out his cigarette and gesturing for the dog.

But it had been way too long since the little guy had seen me; he ignored the command, jumping and spinning excitedly around my ankles. "It seems my dog has taken a liking to you." Kingston's gaze dragged back up to my face—calm, yet impossibly deep.

I dug my nails into my palms, forcing a mask of composure. I silently thanked the chaotic furball at my feet for providing the perfect excuse for my racing pulse. "I apologize.

It must be the smell of meat on me—I spilled some steak sauce on my dress earlier. I'll excuse myself now, Mr.

Kingston." But before I could take a single step, Kingston’s voice cut through the night air again. "Being a dog is actually quite a blessing." Chapter 3 I froze. "…What are you implying?" "Being a dog means as long as you're obedient, your master will reward you.

There's nothing wrong with being a good boy." Back then, when the heat between us reached a boiling point, Kingston would hover over me, biting my earlobe and whispering hoarsely against my skin, "I'm Sloane's good boy." My heart slammed into my throat.

I dug my fingernails so hard into my palms that they threatened to draw blood. I met his hyperaggressive stare without backing down an inch, shooting back coldly, "Sorry.

I have zero interest in taming wild beasts." Kingston suddenly took a massive step forward, his towering frame instantly swallowing me in his shadow.

His voice was a frantic, grating rasp. "And if that beast bowed to you and you alone—would you be cruel enough to throw him away?" "…I don't keep pets." "Why?" "Because I don't have the capacity to take on that kind of responsibility." I lost my mom.

I lost Kingston. I lost my little stray dog. I would never allow myself to have another weakness. "I still have toasts to make. I won't take up any more of your time, Mr.

Kingston." I spun on my heel. But the little mutt lunged at me again.

My steps were rushed, and terrified my heels would crush his paws, I lost my balance entirely and pitched forward.

A pair of massive hands shot out from behind, catching me firmly and yanking me flush against a solid chest. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?

Where does it hurt?" My nose slammed into Kingston's chest. His deep, urgent voice vibrated from above me. It was exactly like those two years we spent together.

The way he protected and obsessed over me had fed me the absolute delusion that we could actually grow old together. "Kingston, what's taking you so long out here in the garden?" A sickeningly sweet female voice drifted from behind us.

I didn't even need to turn my head to know who that voice belonged to. Serena. Kingston's childhood sweetheart and fiancée.

The sound of your dreams shattering is something you never forget. That was exactly what Serena was to me.

I remembered it with crystal clarity: Serena clicking her designer heels across the floor of my dirtcheap apartment, and the very first words out of her mouth. "Kingston actually slept in this dumpster for two whole years?

The things he's willing to endure for our future." I was never a weak person. But staring at the flawless, gleaming Serena, my throat closed up.

I couldn't force a single word of defense out. For the first time in my life, the suffocating sting of my own poverty burned behind my eyes.

But thank god, that wouldn't happen today. Because my mind was no longer starved and desperate. I shoved hard against Kingston's chest and steadied myself on my own two feet.

Serena walked up from behind. The second her eyes locked onto my face, her pupils blew wide. But within seconds, the mask snapped back perfectly into place.

Clearly, she was a much better actress than I was. She flashed a saccharine smile. "Hi there.

You must be the new singer Nadine's agency just signed, right?" "Yes." Serena hooked her arm tightly through Kingston's.

She straightened her spine, pasting on a bulletproof, plastic smile like a dog marking its territory. "Darling, holding another woman like that… it almost makes me think you're still missing that cheap trash of an ex who took the payout and ran." "Fiancée." Kingston's heavy eyelids lifted as he repeated the word.

But those bottomless black eyes stayed deadlocked on me. It looked like boiling magma was churning just beneath the surface of his gaze. "The dog startled me.

Thank you for the assist, Mr. Kingston. I'll leave you two to it." I threw the words over my shoulder and walked away, my face remaining an impenetrable mask.

But Kingston closed the distance with one massive stride of his long legs, blocking my path.

He pulled a heavy, embossed wedding invitation from the inside pocket of his tailored suit and shoved it toward me. "One month from now. My wedding.

You are attending." His voice was a dark, gravelly command. He wasn't asking. Chapter 4 Serena pouted playfully. "Kingston, you're honestly too much.

Waxsealing the wedding invitations so they can only be broken open on the actual day?

How is anyone supposed to even see the bride and groom's names?" I had zero interest in playing audience to their little romantic comedy.

I took the invitation with a polite nod and turned my back. On the walk back to my room, I casually shredded the heavy cardstock to pieces and dropped it into a trash can.

I missed the tiny fragment of the torn paper that fluttered down, revealing a single, elegantly printed word: Sloane