CHAPTER 37: THE PRICE OF POSSESSION

Anna’s POV

"Are you alright, Ms. Shaw?" Rachel asked softly as we walked to the car, her concern evident in her voice.

I nodded curtly, "I’m fine."

Sean had already left, taking a taxi home after the dinner.

Rachel opened the car door for me as we reached the vehicle. "Where to, Ms. Shaw? Goldenleaf Manor?"

"Sapphire Sky Hotel," I decided, settling into the backseat. "I need some time to think."

The drive provided a welcome reprieve, allowing me to gather my thoughts. I had known going up against Simpson Group would be challenging, but tonight had confirmed just how ruthless they were prepared to be. George Simpson had made it abundantly clear: either I cooperated with Simpson Group, or Shaw Corp would face the consequences. The implied threat wasn’t subtle cross us, and we’ll ensure no one in Skyview City does business with you again.

I gazed out at the city lights, weighing my options. Shaw Corp wasn’t large enough to develop Skylake District alone that much was true. But surrendering to Simpson Group would mean watching my mother’s childhood home get demolished, replaced by whatever monstrosity they deemed fitting for their "luxury community."

By the time we reached the hotel, I had made my decision. I would not back down. Whatever consequences came from defying the Simpsons, I would face them head-on.

On the way to the hotel, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick message to the mysterious stranger.

*Are you available tonight?*

The response came almost immediately: *Always for you.*

I made my way to room 3303. I slid the keycard into the lock, and the moment I pushed the door open, strong arms wrapped around me from the darkness. He was already there, waiting for me in the pitch-black room. His embrace was immediate and possessive, pulling me against his solid chest before I’d even had a chance to step fully inside.

I linked my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his. "I can keep my eyes closed," I whispered, standing on tiptoe to brush my lips against his. "I don’t need to know who you are. I like what we have just as it is."

I felt his body tense slightly, his breath catching. Encouraged, I continued kissing him softly, my voice dropping to a seductive murmur between kisses.

"We should set some ground rules, though. Keep things clean, respect boundaries, either of us can stop this anytime. Would that work for you?"

There was a moment of silence, his body rigid against mine. Then, a single word: "Yes."

I ran my hands down his chest, suddenly aware that he was still fully dressed. My fingers found the buttons of his shirt, slowly unfastening them.

"Why not take this off?" I asked, curious about his reluctance to undress completely during our encounters.

I had only managed to undo three buttons when his hands caught mine, stopping their progress. In one fluid motion, he pinned both my wrists above my head, pressing me back against the cool tile wall. His mouth found mine in a kiss that was more demanding, more possessive than any we’d shared before.

The intensity sent a shiver through me, my body responding instinctively to his dominance. This was exactly what I needed tonight-to surrender control, to lose myself in sensation, to forget about Simpson Group and Skylake District and all the complications waiting for me in the morning.

At noon the next day,I arrived at Rosa Villa, my mind still replaying the disastrous dinner with the Simpsons from the night before. The moment I stepped through the door, the faint metallic scent of blood hit me, sending a jolt of concern through my chest.

"Uncle Marcus, your wound still hasn’t healed?" My brow furrowed as I found him in the guest room, just finishing changing his bandages. The white gauze was spotted with fresh crimson, making my stomach tighten. Thinking of Oscar’s usual boasting about his medical expertise, I felt heat rising to my face. "Oscar talks big about his medical skills, but a simple wound has taken days to heal? What kind of doctor is he?"

I pulled out my phone, ready to call Oscar and demand an explanation.

Marcus gave me one of his characteristic cool stares, effectively stopping me in my tracks.

"It has nothing to do with Dr. Porter," he stated calmly, his voice betraying nothing as he adjusted his position on the edge of the bed. "I accidentally reopened the wound myself."

Hearing this, half my anger subsided, but my concern only intensified. I put my phone away and stepped closer, my voice softening despite myself.

"Uncle Marcus, you need to be careful.

Reopening the wound will just make it heal more slowly." Inwardly, I berated myself for not coming to check on him earlier, too caught up in my own business battles.

Marcus didn’t elaborate, simply buttoning his shirt in silence before abruptly changing the subject: "How did the dinner with the Simpson family go?"

This was precisely why I’d come today.

I sighed, feeling a wave of defeat wash over me as I sank into the chair across from him. "T’ve offended the Simpson family. By now, the news must be all over Skyview City."

To my surprise, Marcus personally poured me a cup of tea, his movements gentle and attentive despite his injury. His voice carried a hint of amusement: "Weren’t they already offended?"

I paused, then laughed at myself, the sound unexpectedly genuine. He was right-from marriage until now, I hadn’t done a single thing that pleased Jack Simpson. Looking back, our relationship was truly a mismatch from the start, with neither of us finding peace in it.

"But now, no one will dare partner with me," I sighed again, lifting the teacup to my lips. The tea was the perfect temperature, and I found myself taking several consecutive sips, emptying the cup before I realized it.

Seeing this, Marcus refilled my cup, his eyes never leaving my face. His voice was deep and steady, somehow dispelling the anxiety in my heart:

"There’s no rush. The development permits haven’t been issued yet. Even if development is coming, it’s still early."

He looked at me, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly in a smile filled with deeper meaning: "Even if someone is in a hurry, it shouldn’t be you."

Marcus’s POV

Anna sat across from me, her slender fingers tapping restlessly against the armrest of her chair. Despite her composed exterior, I could sense her inner conflict.

"Uncle Marcus, why don’t you just sell me that historic building?" she finally said, breaking the comfortable silence between us. "I feel uncomfortable asking you to transfer the property without paying for it. I just can’t bring myself to ask you to complete the paperwork."

I studied her carefully, admiring the proud tilt of her chin and the determined set of her shoulders. There was something captivating about her stubbornness, a quality that simultaneously amused and attracted me. Her independence had always been one of her most endearing traits —and one I knew I could use to my advantage.

"Anna," I began, my voice deliberately measured, "I have a proposition for you."

Her eyes met mine, curiosity flickering across her features. "I’m listening."

"How about this-you don’t pay me directly. Consider the $200 million as my investment." I kept my voice deliberately casual, though the proposal was anything but. "In the Skylake District project."

Anna’s eyes widened slightly as she processed my words. "You... want to invest in Skylake?"

"I told you I was planning to shift some operations back to America." I shrugged, as if we were discussing something as trivial as the weather.

"This could be a suitable starting point."

She fell silent, her mind clearly racing through implications and possibilities.

"That would make us partners," she said finally, her tone carefully neutral.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. I’d have a stake in Skylake’s development, but Shaw Corp would maintain operational control." I paused, allowing her time to consider. "You get your family’s mansion back, and 1 secure a promising investment. A practical solution for both parties."

The tension in her shoulders eased slightly. "I need to think about it."

"Of course." I nodded, already knowing what her answer would be.

Anna Shaw was nothing if not practical, and this offer solved her immediate problem while keeping her pride intact. "Take all the time you need."

By afternoon, Rachel arrived with the drafted agreement. Anna had moved quickly, as I knew she would. The contract was elegant in its simplicity— a straightforward investment arrangement that outlined my financial stake while preserving Shaw Corp’s decision-making authority.

"Everything appears to be in order," I remarked, scanning the document.

Anna sat beside me at the dining table, her pen poised. "You’re sure about this? Two hundred million is a significant investment."

"I’m sure." I signed my name with deliberate strokes, then watched as she did the same.

"Uncle Marcus, once you’ve recovered from your injury, we should go complete the property transfer," she said, extending her hand across the table. "To a successful partnership."

As she reached toward me, the sleeve of her blouse slid back slightly, revealing her wrist. My attention caught on a faint circle of reddish marks around the delicate skin— marks I recognized immediately. I had left those marks myself the previous night in room 3303 of the Sapphire Sky Hotel, when I’d pinned her wrists above her head against the cool wall.

Heat surged through me at the memory, though my expression remained impassive.

"A successful partnership," I echoed, my voice deeper than I’d intended.

"I insist we handle the transfer as soon as possible," I said, redirecting the conversation. "My injury is minor. We should complete the paperwork tomorrow to avoid any complications."

She nodded, relief evident in her posture. "If you’re certain you’re well enough."

The following day, we completed all legal formalities with efficient precision. As the final papers were processed, I watched Anna’s face transform. The relief that washed over her was palpable this historic building, this piece of her mother’s childhood, was finally back where it belonged.

In that moment, I glimpsed something beneath her carefully maintained exterior—a vulnerability she rarely allowed others to see. Her hand trembled slightly as she received the property deed, and I resisted the sudden, inexplicable urge to reach out and steady it with my own.

"Thank you, Uncle Marcus," she said quietly, once we were alone. "This means more to my family than I can express."

"Your mother will be pleased," I said quietly.

She nodded, carefully placing the deed into her leather portfolio. "More than pleased. This means everything to her."

As we walked down the grand marble steps of the Municipal Hall into the bright afternoon sunlight, Anna turned to me with unexpected warmth in her expression.

"Uncle Marcus, let me take you to dinner," she offered. "My treat."

I looked down at her, enjoying how even in her high heels, she barely reached my jawline. Something about this height difference brought me a strange satisfaction.

"Another thank you?" I asked, my tone lightly teasing.

"Yes," she admitted freely, her smile genuine and unguarded. "I’m truly grateful. Without you, my mother and I would have had to watch my grandfather’s historic building be demolished. You have no idea what this means to us."

I studied her for a moment, finding myself drawn to the sincerity in her expression. "Dinner sounds perfect."

Anna chose a discreet, upscale restaurant tucked away from the bustle of downtown. The moment we entered, I recognized it as the type of establishment that catered to an exclusive clientele who valued privacy as much as exceptional cuisine.

"Ms. Shaw!" The owner, a striking woman in her forties, approached immediately with obvious familiarity.

"Your usual table is ready." Her eyes darted to me with unconcealed interest.

She led us to a secluded corner booth, then leaned closer to Anna, her voice dropping to what she clearly thought was a whisper. "He’s quite something, isn’t he? So much more sophisticated and substantial than your ex-husband."

I pretended not to hear, studying the wine list with apparent concentration while hiding my amusement.

The owner wasn’t finished. She leaned even closer to Anna’s ear, though not nearly quietly enough. "Trust my judgment-this man looks extremely *capable*. Have you tried him out yet?"

Anna’s face flushed an attractive shade of pink. "Rebecca!" she hissed, mortified.

Rebecca laughed, patting Anna’s shoulder before backing away. "’ll send over our best bottle of Bordeaux. On the house."

Once we were alone, Anna struggled to meet my eyes. "Uncle Marcus, the restaurant owner can be rather direct and casual. Please don’t take offense."

I held her gaze steadily, allowing a small smile to play at the corners of my mouth. "She’s right, you know. You should try it."

Anna froze, her expression one of absolute shock. "*What?*"

"How will you know she’s not right unless you try?" I continued, enjoying her flustered reaction far too much.

My voice dropped lower, more intimate. "I’ve wondered about it myself."