Systematic Siege #4

SIEGE SERIAL

Copyright © N. Isabelle Blanco

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This work is copyrighted. All rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the author. 

Cover image licensed by 123rf.com/ © George Mayer

Cover design by Coquette Graphics

Publication Date:

Genre: FICTION/Romance/Erotica

Copyright © 2017 N. Isabelle Blanco 

All rights reserved

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50

There’s a small window above my head. The sun started shining through a while ago. Has to have been three hours at least.

I’ve been sitting on this cot the whole time.

The light is naturally dim back here. It isn’t like some of those holding areas with the bright lights and institution-like set up. I can see dust particles flying inside the bright ray of sunlight pouring in.

That’s all I’ve had to focus on. That and the growing black hole in my fucking gut.

Overnight. That’s how long they’ve kept me in this fucking cell.

Me—A Drevlow.

But that’s exactly why I’ve been here this long. Because my father, Mr. Drevlow, demanded that I stay here and “learn my lesson”.

He knows I took the blame.

Fuck. I took the blame.

I lean forward, elbows braced on my knees, and run my hand over my buzz-cut hair. Everything’s shaking. My leg is bouncing.

All I can imagine is Lexi out there, suffering. Thinking God knows what.

In my defense, at the time I believed I would be out of here in two hours, tops. Not that I’d be here until the next day.

The logic was simple: I was going to take the blame and confirm they helped me plan it. All of us would pay for whatever pain my girl is going through.

And I was going to have enough time to get to her, explain my plan.

As long as the cops believe I was in on the whole recording plan, I can make it seem more legitimate when we’re all brought before the school board.

There’s no doubt we will be. This entire ordeal goes against the very stringent rules set forth by the board.

I don’t give a fuck that this will get me thrown out of school—actually, I’m banking on it.

I’m taking all those motherfuckers with me when I go.

By now, my father knows I said I was in on this. He should’ve been proud. Ecstatic that I hurt Berkman’s daughter.

The fact that he left me here overnight and sent me that little message via my lawyer can only mean one thing.

My father knows I’m lying.

Either Kaylee got to him and told him the truth . . .

Or I couldn’t convince him that I’d changed my mind about wanting Lexi. Couldn’t undo my mistake of telling him I wanted to be with her.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I haven’t slept. Can’t. Has nothing to do with being in this cell.

Everything feels wrong. I don’t know how to explain it. Like there’s some telepathic connection between me and Lexi.

It’s almost like I can feel everything she’s feeling. Can feel how the damage sinks in deeper with every moment that she’s out there without me.

I have to get to her. Have to explain . . .

“Daddy said you can finally go, tough shot.”

The sound of keys, more than that asshole’s taunts, bring me back to reality. I’m on my feet before he’s even fully done opening the door.

My lawyer is standing just outside the holding area. He steps toward me as I barrel out, his mouth open to speak.

“Not now.” I storm past him.

He’s calling my name. Chasing after me. Ignoring him, I head straight to the door—

My father steps inside, his back straight. Bearing impeccable in his ridiculously expensive suit.

He’s standing right in front of the door, blocking my way. I hope for his sake he gets the hint and moves.

Of course, he doesn’t.

He reaches out to grab my arms as I approach. The look on his face is one I know well.

He’s ready to lay down his law with me.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He grabs my arms.

I tell him once, calmly, “Let me go.”

“I asked you a question, boy.”

“I said, let me go!” I yell, shoving him out of my way with all my strength. Several voices yell out behind me as I barge out the door.

There’s no stopping to take in the fact that I finally got to push my father. Give him some of the aggression I’ve been choking on for so long.

No stopping to be ashamed at my thoughts either.

Shit. Shit. I don’t have my car here with me. Obviously, my father isn’t going to let me take his car to get back to Lexi.

Fuck it. I’ll run.

51

17 hours before Barnard Wellington’s disappearance . . .

“What else did he do?”

Hell. I think I’m still shaking my head. Forcing myself to stop, I somehow find the strength to look him right in the eye.

Pretending I’m not lying.

That I’m not panicking.

What about me gave it away? What? Damn it.

“You can’t force me to work up here with you, Andrew.”

Just minutes ago, he was treading carefully with me. Trying not to scare me.

My words drag something different out of him. Gone is the soothing, cautious Andrew. A hardness falls over him, the kind of unrelenting energy that signals his indomitable will.

“Lexi. You’re under contract. I’m your boss. And I need you up here.”

My lips fall open at his audacity. At the calm way he stated that. “You’re really going there?”

“You and I have an enemy in common, Ms. Berkman. I need you to become my right hand in order for us to succeed.”

“I hate you,” I say, blinking in disbelief. “How could you want me to be your right hand?”

“And I—” He inhales deeply instead of finishing what he was going to say.

“You what?”

Shaking his head, Andrew leans back on his desk and crosses his arms; the exact same pose he’d been in when I first approached the glass wall. “I’m your boss and I’m telling you I need you here.”

“I need to be able to coordinate the team. Paul. Megan—”

“She’s been promoted to your position. You’ll be coordinating the team from up here.”

My face burns hot with frustration. With the futility suddenly creeping in on me. I remember this feeling of having my choices taken away from me by a prick with too much power.

“I’m the best fucking coder in this entire building, Drew.” Once again, that freaking nickname leaves my mouth before I realize it.

Andrew’s expression softens. “I know, Lexi. And I’m not too shabby myself.”

I know. I remember. He was a genius back then; I can only imagine how dangerous that mind is now.

Still. “You aren’t better than me.”

He nods. “No I’m not. But together, we’d be beyond dangerous and you know it.”

Deep down, I know he’s right. The logic is irrefutable. Bringing down Menahan isn’t just about releasing a headset beyond superior to his. Undermining his company by taking top spot.

It’s about finding ways into his systems. Getting the information we need to truly ruin him and his entire family name.

The devil fuck me, but I’ll be helping the Drevlow name grow with that outcome.

But as long as my mother gets the help she needs out of this, what else can I do?

“You’re starting to see my logic, aren’t you?”

Fucking asshole.

Fisting my hands, I look around the office. My new workplace. “I’ll only agree to work up here on one condition.”

“Shoot.”

Huffing out a sarcastic laugh, I turn back to him. “You confessed to the cops.” I saw the video. His father made it his mission to come show me.

And then he offered me that bargain, and I was stupid enough to take it.

Stupid enough to send myself down such a horrid path.

“I did.” Andrew stares into my eyes.

Swallowing, I blink back tears. “So you admit you betrayed me.” What am I expecting, a different answer? I saw the video for myself!

His head tilts back and his expression turns defiant. “I’ll tell you the exact details of what happened back then—”

“So it was more than that?” Was that a hint of desperation I heard in my tone?

“—if you tell me what happened between you and Stephen. All of it.”

Why does he keep asking me?

Obviously, I know. I did something that gave it away. Andrew suspects Stephen abused me much more than I’m letting on.

I’ll never let him know. I can’t. All these years, it was about getting away. Every step calculated. Planned. I needed to escape Stephen’s hold and that was all I could focus on.

I’ve just rediscovered sexual pleasure at the hands of the man before me.

Dealing with what happened to me, though? No. I haven’t even begun processing that fully.

How the hell am I even supposed to?

And Andrew expects me to share it? Out of his mind. It feels too private. Too . . . too . . . “You know what? Forget this.” I turn to leave.

“Please.”

My heart crumbles painfully. I pause mid-step, pressing a hand to my chest. Why is it hurting so much?

“Lexi, please.”

I spin to face Drew again, dropping my hand.

He’s still in the same position I left him, but his eyes . . .

God help me, I’m in so much pain right now.

“Being up here is going to be hard,” I confess, my tone weaker than it should be.

His eyes somehow soften even more. “I know.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because I honestly have no choice.”

52

What does he mean by that?

I search his eyes, his beautiful eyes—

Holy crap. I didn’t just think that.

But I did.

“Be logical about this,” he urges in that flat tone, as if he’s the one being logical.

Yes. Strategically it’s the best move. When it comes to destroying Stephen that is.

Out of nowhere, the lock I keep tight on my memories fails, and I’m reminded of exactly why Stephen needs to be ruined.

“Stephen! Please! What are you doing?”

“It’s mine, Lexi. It’s always been mine. Just like that pussy.”

Pain tears my insides, radiating out from my ass, like a knife stabbing deep.

It hurts. Oh God, save me. It hurts.

“Lexi? Lexi!”

I blink.

Then I jump back, breathing hard.

Andrew had been right in front of me. All up in my face. He fists his hands, veins bulging, but makes no move to follow me.

He knows I can’t handle that right now.

Panting, I tear my stare away from him. Holy hell, why the fuck? But I know why. It isn’t the first time one of the memories come at me without warning.

I’ve gotten good at holding them back. I can go weeks now without getting lost in the recollections. Regardless of what my therapist believes, I know that I will come to completely suppress those memories with time.

I will forget.

I have to.

“Lexi.”

That pained groan centers me. If I weren’t so freaked out about almost losing myself to that panic, it would register that he’s my lifeline right now.

Somehow, his obvious pain over seeing my own gives me the strength to withhold the anxiety.

But I don’t analyze that. “You’re right.” I resist the urge to run my shaking hand across my mouth. “To destroy him, we need to be a team. Our planning has to be perfect.”

Because this is my reality and I can’t allow any weakness to affect that.

Andrew Drevlow is my enemy, but he never, ever did to me any of the things Stephen has done.

“Lexi . . .”

“But I will not talk about anything other than our plans to bring him down and work with you.” My voice shakes with the warning.

His jaw muscle pumps; he always had a bad habit of grinding his teeth when stressed. “Fine. Your rules.”

I’m shocked by his easy acquiescence. Like hell it’s my rules. I know him. He was never the type of guy to let anyone take the reins.

The furious light in his eyes tells me he isn’t too keen on letting me take them now.

“Why?” I ask him, raising my chin. Why are you giving in so easy? Why are you actually respecting my desires right now?

He lowers his chin and stares me deep in the eye. “You. Know. Why.”

I shake my head. I don’t.

He exhales, nostrils flaring softly, and his fists finally unclench. “The first thing I need you to do is hire yourself an assistant.”

My eyebrows raise at that.

“You’re too important to have bogged down with mundane things like answering my calls and keeping track of my calendar.”

“You should have thought about that before strong-arming me into the role.”

Andrew stops for a second, his expression unreadable.

When his lips twitch and his expression melts with affection, I swear I feel the ground beneath my heels shift. “God. I missed your stubborn comebacks.”

No.

No.

My body steps away from him, a single step, but my head’s also shaking and I see the moment he catches on to the fear in my eyes.

Please. Please don’t make me feel this again. Not with you.

I swear I can hear his voice in my head. You never stopped, Lexi.

I can’t do this. Can’t be near this man. I’m not strong enough. What the hell was I thinking?

The intercom on Andrew’s desk beeps right before a woman’s voice comes through. “Mr. Drevlow. I have your 9:00am here to see you.”

I would love to say the spell is broken.

For me, it’s not.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Andrew half turns to press the answering button on his phone. “Let him up.”

I’m already backing away, seeing my small way out.

“Wait.”

I pause right by the glass wall.

“Delegate whatever you have to. I’m giving you full control as my right hand.”

Me? Me? The world is upside down. Twisted. Me as the right hand to the head of the Drevlow empire?

Immeasurable power.

Tainted privilege.

This empire crushed the likes of my father and now I’m going to help run it? Not just help it grow, but actually steer a portion of it? Command it?

Use it against Stephen. I feel poisoned at the thought of what I must do, but this has been my life for almost a decade, I remind myself.

A puppet of powerful men. A puppet of cruel fate. I learned to deal. To survive. To use everything to my advantage.

No need to stop now.

“Fine,” I tell him, heading straight for my desk.

53

16 hours before Barnard Wellington’s disappearance . . .

By the time Andrew’s 9:00am gets off the elevator a minute or so later, I’m calmer.

I think.

I’ve busied myself firing up both desktops on my desk. Arranging my frames and knickknacks can be done later. I’m all about business right now. Setting up the most important aspects so Andrew and I can move forward with our plan.

The man he’s meeting walks in, flashing me a bright white smile once he sees me. He’s fairly handsome with his tanned skin, and everything about him screams money.

Andrew’s already at the glass wall, waiting for him. “Asad. Come in.” His tone is terse and I get the feeling that he doesn’t like how Asad just smiled at me.

Asad smiles at Andrew and greets him. But when he walks by my desk, his eyes cut in my direction again and I freeze.

His eyes. That look in his eyes . . .

I’ve seen it before.

Stephen.

A cold shiver rips down my spine.

“Considering you need me to agree to this contract, let’s start things off on the right foot. Shall we?” Andrew’s voice is deadly soft.

Deadly serious.

I sneak a glance at him and my heart drops at the dark light in his eyes.

There it is again. That madness.

For some reason, it scares me more than what I saw in Asad’s eyes. Then the memory of Stephen.

It’s the first time the question crosses my mind, but I can’t help but mentally ask him, What have you become?

I know the answer to that. I’ve dealt with enough evil to recognize it when I see it.

“Of course. What do you need?” Asad stops before Andrew and offers his hand to shake.

Andrew doesn’t even stare at it. “You don’t look at her. You don’t think about her. And for your sake, you don’t dare to even dream about her.”

I can’t help my gasp at that.

Asad looks between both of us, his eyebrows rising with amusement. “I thought she was just another employee—”

“She’s not.”

“So she’s yours then?”

I bristle at that and my mouth flies open to deny it.

“It goes beyond that,” is Andrew’s serious response.

I swear to God, I almost fall off this chair.

Did he . . . did this asshole just claim me?

Asad waves a hand dismissively, expression good-natured. “Point taken. As I said, I didn’t know.” He doesn’t even seem phased by the threat pouring off Andrew. Motioning with his head to Andrew’s office, he says, “Shall we proceed?”

And with that, they both walk inside, the glass wall automatically sliding shut behind them.

I can’t rip my eyes away from Andrew. Fury strangles me. Helplessness.

Terror.

He wants to own me just as much as Stephen did.

He’s the only man capable of giving me pleasure.

No matter what Stephen did, he never owned me. He broke me. Trapped me. Choked me with the far reach of his leash, but I never let him in.

Andrew . . .

He’s been there. Is still there. I was never able to purge this demon out of me. Never able to bleed him out.

And I bled. God help me, I bled.

I decide to focus on the anger because thinking about anything else will break my already cracked mind. Once his meeting is over, I’m going to force him to understand.

I’m not his. Fuck what my body has to say about it, I have my free will. I fought hard to break free of Stephen so I could exercise it again, and I’ll be damned if Andrew comes along and tries to take that from me.

Turning back to my screen, I busy myself contacting the HR department and asking them to start a search for an assistant. I make it clear that I need to have someone hired by tomorrow, latest.

Yes. I know. It’s short notice, but there’s no time. The faster we bring down Stephen, the faster I can escape Andrew.

He’ll never let you go.

I break out in a cold sweat.

Ignoring it, I log onto my personal email, making sure to encrypt the connection.

There’s an unread email at the very top of my inbox. One that ends my entire world.

I know that email address anywhere. Of course I would.

SMenahan@Menahanindustries.com

Don’t open it. Ignore it. It’s not the first time he’s reached out to me since I left. Not the first email or text.

And like every single time, the sick curiosity cannot be fought. I click open the email, shaking . . .

I knew you love me. I’m so grateful for your surprise.

What the fuck?

You’re finally in. Just imagine baby. We can finally destroy him once and for all. Then we can go back to being together.

He’s sick. So sick–

A hand lands next to me on the desk and I jump, chair skidding back.

It’s Andrew, and that homicidal glint is expanding in his eyes, overcoming his facial expression.

He’s reading the email.

I scramble to grab my mouse and shut the computer down.

He grabs the mouse from me and yanks the keyboard closer.

And before I know it, he’s begun typing out a response.

54

I’m in phenomenal fucking shape, but even I’m dying as I approach Lexi’s street. The precinct is four miles away. It took me way longer than it should have to get here.

Damn my human legs.

My heart is failing in my chest, the pressure of the run getting to me.

But it isn’t just that. I know it isn’t. Something is wrong and the closer I get to her house, I can feel it.

I hang onto the hope of seeing her face. Of explaining. Of getting through to her.

I pray that somehow she hasn’t heard that I took the blame. All I want to do is buffer her. Explain my lie and what I’m hoping to get out of it.

My body starts slowing, and I’m choking for breath.

But my feet hit the pavement on the corner and I can see the two-story, white structure from here.

I burst back into a run, full speed, Lexi’s face all I can see. Her lips all I want. Her in my arms all I need.

I’m halfway down the block when I see it.

The “For Sale” sign impaled on the front yard.

I slam to a halt and my speed sends me skidding onto the street, my knees scraping through my jeans on impact.

I don’t even feel it.

Wh—what the fuck . . . No. That’s impossible. My eyes rise, taking in the entire house . . .

Everything’s dark. The house seems empty.

No. It isn’t. They live here. I just dropped Lexi off two nights ago.

My body is useless, trembling with a weakness I’ve never felt before. It takes me two tries to get to my feet, and my legs are trembling so bad I almost can’t stay upright.

A car pulls up next to me. “Andrew! Man, I heard you were out. Listen—”

Finn.

I’m already walking away from him, deadened feet stepping onto the curb.

Somehow, that single step echoes in me. All around me. A deafening sound that confuses me. Something just happened. I don’t know what, but everything is changing around me.

My life is never going to be the same again and I can feel the shift in my destiny.

Fear begs me to stop. Cease moving. Take a moment to reorient myself. To come to terms with the pieces of my life that are melting away.

“Drew! Stop, man. We have to talk.”

I start running again, like a possessed bullet aimed at the house, and I’m on the porch in seconds.

The porch swing is missing. The windchime that was hanging above the door. Potted plants. Welcome mat.

I drove by here after dropping her off to make sure she got inside. I remember seeing all those things.

“No. No. No.” I don’t even realize those frantic grunts are coming from me. Behind me, Finn calls out my name again and I hear the sound of running footsteps. Stumbling over my own feet, I approach the window.

No shades. Darkness on the other side. Emptiness.

A chasm breaks open inside me, a crack that quickly spreads. Shit. Something’s broken. I have enough semblance of mind to know how illogical the thought is. I’m still standing. Still breathing. Organs still functioning. Yet I hear my own voice in my head, behind the roar of my heart, begging for mercy.

To be saved.

Finn lands on the porch behind me. Detached, I take in the frightened, worried look he’s giving me. “Andrew. Stop for a second, okay?” His voice is shaky.

Do I look that bad?

Numb, that voice still begging in my head, I nudge him out of the way and approach the front door. I stop right in front of it.

And that’s when he says it. “Lexi’s gone, Drew.”

A loud, enraged sound reaches my ears—my foot connects with the door, sending it flying inward, flakes of wood raining down.

“Drew!”

I storm into the house.

The utterly empty house.

Finn’s words repeat themselves in my mind again. “Lexi’s gone, Drew.” That sound again. That loud roar.

It’s me. As I drop down to my knees, my head snaps back, my mouth opening to let loose an animalistic shout. Like a spectator seeing myself from afar, I can only watch in horror as my humanity is stripped from me and I become nothing more than an injured beast.

God, what is this? What the fuck is happening to me?

Stupid question. I know what this is. I’ve been building up to this moment my entire, miserable life.

The shattered boy has finally snapped.

It’s fine, I tell myself. It’s fine. You’ll find her. Don’t fucking overreact to this.

I won’t find her. Somehow, I know this in my fucking bones.

Suddenly, the proof of it walks through the door. “Enough with the melodramatics, son. She’s gone. Not get your ass up before the cops arrive. There’s no doubt the neighbors called them.”

My head snaps around to him, I manage to growl out a single word—“You”—and then I’m off my feet, my sneakers pounding into the floor.

He did this. Him. I know he did. He’s the reason she’s gone. HIM.

After everything he’s done to me. All the things he’s taken from me.

My father has a split second to realize I’m coming at him full-throttle—

We crash through the broken doorway, straight out onto the porch.

55

16 hours before Barnard Wellington’s disappearance . . .

“What the fuck are you doing?” I whisper angrily, acutely aware that Asad’s eyes are on us. I almost reach out to yank Andrew’s arm, pull him away from the keyboard, but remind myself that touching him isn’t worth the risk.

I’m quivering at the feel of his body heat mere inches from me. “Andrew.” My voice catches as I focus on the response he’s typing out.

Your days of contacting her are done. Reach out to her again, and I’ll make sure the whole world finds out what you’ve done to her.

“Stop,” I beg in a reedy whisper. “What are you thinking—”

He hits send.

And just like that, another part of my personal life is taken from me, yet another thing no longer under my control.

Even worse, Andrew’s response kills any lingering iota of doubt I had.

That man knows Stephen raped me.

My personal email has become yet another battleground in the war between these two men.

Stephen sends a reply almost immediately. We were together. That’s all it was. She wanted me and I wanted her. Tell me, does she know what you’ve been up to all these years?

What?

“Is everything alright?” Asad is standing at the glass wall, his eyes alit with morbid curiosity.

He likes this, I notice. This man is envious of Drew for some reason and he’s loving watching him lose his composure.

I, on the other hand, am trapped in a losing battle with impulse. My eyes flicker to Andrew, and all I want to do is get him alone and find out the truth.

What did you do?

What is Stephen talking about?

God damn it. If we’re going to be partners, he has to be open with me about all of his moves. Strategically, this isn’t going to work unless we keep each other informed.

I tell myself that’s the only reason for my desperation to know.

Andrew straightens away from my desk and smoothes his hand down his blazer. “We’ve been handling some lowlives trying to hack into our servers for a while.”

He sounds so calm. As if he didn’t just threaten Stephen-fucking-Menahan through my personal email account.

As if he didn’t just imply that he’s going to let an entire world know I was sexually abused.

Over my dead body, I think, fury rising. How could he do this to me? So, he knows what I’ve been through. No details, of course, but he knows, and he’s willing to air my shame before an entire world?

Horrid newsline titles flash in my mind as I imagine the public scandal.

I agreed to bring Stephen down, but not like this.

“Ah. So you need to double check that your assistant’s email is safe.” Asad’s sarcastic disbelief is plainly evident, even though his tone is calm and understanding.

Andrew stops before him, expression flat. “Ms. Berkman isn’t my office assistant. She’s the lead programmer for the entire company.”

Another hit.

Another unexpected twist.

With sudden trepidation, I realize that this man has me reeling. Too fast. Everything’s happening too fast. I can’t keep up.

Just like before with him. Exactly like before. Nothing but a roller coaster moving at lightspeed.

“Your most valuable asset, then.” Asad’s eyes land on me, and his interest in me seems to have ramped up to a ridiculous degree.

“Yes. Mine. Now do me a favor and get in the office so we can finish this. I have other important things to handle today.”

My God. Andrew’s arrogance is on an entire other level. He has no qualms about talking to Asad as if he’s nothing.

Asad, however, laughs. As if it’s no big deal. “You are ruthless. I knew that the moment I met you, but even I am impressed.”

Andrew says nothing, waiting for Asad to walk back into the office. His head turns in my direction, his eyes soft.

Is he silently fucking apologizing to me right now?

Christ help me, this man has me all kinds of twisted, confused, and scrambled.

He sends me one more look and the message in his eyes is clear: tell me if he contacts you again.

I continue glaring at him. Once he’s turned his back and the glass has slid shut, I drag my keyboard to me, close down my email, and pretend I’m just getting back to work.

In reality, I’m working my way into the company’s main servers, into the employee files. It takes me less than five minutes to get all the info I need.

To my annoyance, there’s no personal information on Andrew. The only near personal thing I find is his cell.

I grab mine and type out a text.

Lexi: No more bullshit. As soon as he’s out of there, we need to talk.

This conversation might end up doing me more harm than good, but it’s time it fucking happens. That man has to understand that he doesn’t call the shots here, I do, and he isn’t going to force me back onto his fucked-up ride.

I can’t allow it.

56

15 hours before Barnard Wellington’s disappearance . . .

By the time Asad leaves, I’m elbow-deep into lines upon lines of coding. Paul emailed the file to me over an hour ago. On top of that, HR took my request very—and I do mean, very—seriously. There’s already ten resumes of potential candidates for me to go through.

I’ve dubbed the effect, “The roar heard around the world.” Or this building, to be exact. I haven’t even stepped into any kind of position of power here, and one man screaming my name already has people scrambling to please me.

Ah, but that’s the Drevlow syndrome, isn’t it? There’s something about the men of that family that sets them apart. Something so off in their very DNA, that other people can sense it. Be wary of it.

Everyone’s afraid of those monsters.

I wonder exactly what Andrew did to prove to his employees, in search a short amount of time, that he’s also a force to be reckoned with.

Then again, have you seen him? Everything about that man screams, I will destroy you. Get in the way of what I want, and it’ll be the end of you.

It was always that way, but now, this new version of him . . .

I push it out of my mind. It’s none of my fucking business what Andrew Drevlow has gone through, what it did to him, and if he’s still warped by any of it.

He’s clearly still warped. Yeah, I saw it. Recognized the look in his eyes. I’ve been seeing it in the mirror my whole life, ever since his father drove mine to suicide. And the last few years, stuck under Stephen’s control?

Whatever. I can’t keep thinking about this. I’ve come here to accomplish two goals:

Get my mother the help she needs.

Destroy Stephen.

Everything else is irrelevant.

I’m so absorbed in my thoughts, I nearly miss Asad’s departure.

But that’s the thing about negative-conditioning. Once it sets in, it buries deep into your subconscious, corroding your instinctual responses.

I spent years in the sights of a twisted predator. My skin seems to have evolved a sensory system, a way to warn me when I’m being sized up. Skin going cold, I look up from my screen.

Asad walks by my desk on his way to the elevators. Those darks eyes violate me. Undress me. With a single look, his given away what he’s doing to me in his mind.

There’s nothing hot or sexy about it. This man isn’t just imagining that he’s fucking me. In his fantasies, he’s breaking me.

I feel raped all over again.

He steps into the elevator, and just like that, he’s gone.

I still can’t breathe right.

“He even so much as looks your way again . . .”

I jump in my seat, my head flying around.

Andrew’s standing at the open glass wall, expression stoic, eyes brimming with that sick evil I saw before. “And I’ll kill him for it.”

I gasp weakly. Not because of the words, or the deadened way he said them.

He means it.

Mother of God, he really fucking means it.

This isn’t like before, all those years ago. He isn’t the same teenager that swore to kill his father for me. No, that boy had fear in his eyes as he’d said it. He tried to hide it, but I remember picking up on it loud and clear.

That boy might have made up his mind to kill, but he hadn’t been ready for it.

This man, however . . .

The intercom on his desk goes off again. “Mr. Drevlow. Your 10:30AM is here.”

He has no assistant yet. Well, he had no assistant until today, and apparently the reception at the lobby has been screening all his appointments and calls.

It’s been made abundantly clear I won’t be doing any of that, therefore reception will be handling that until I hire my assistant.

“Grab your notepad. I want you in here for this one,” Andrew says and turns to head back to his desk. “Send her up,” he says into the intercom.

I’m still reeling from his promise of murder, but I do as he says and follow him inside.

He leans in front of his desk again. “Lexi, I need you to look me in the eyes.”

Taken aback, I do, and I’m struck silent by the plea I see in them. “I need you to trust me and work with me. Please, remember it’s all part of the plan.”

“What are you—”

Behind me, the elevator opens, and I hear the sound of heels clicking on the floor.

I see something akin to panic flash in Andrew’s eyes. “Lexi, just go with me on this one. Show her a united front. And please, trust me.”

“Drew, I couldn’t believe it when you called.”

I recognize that voice with every fiber of my being. How could I not? I’d come to loathe it. Disbelieving, I whirl around.

Kaylee Whittacker slams to a halt right at the glass wall, her blue eyes wide and her mouth falling open at the sight of me.

“You bitch.”

57

15 hours before Barnard Wellington’s disappearance . . .

“Apologize to her,” Andrew warns behind me. “Right. Now.”

Is he fucking serious? He’s asking me to apologize to her? Raw, sadistic rage, the likes of which I’ve never felt, incinerates the blood in my veins. The agony razes through me, obliterating my humanity.

Betrayal. It makes no sense, but I choke on this insane feeling of betrayal.

Blood rushing to my face, I spin around—

He’s glaring at Kaylee, not me.

A smidgen of reason breaks through. I thought it, but . . . I didn’t really say that? No. Apparently, those words had come from her.

“Drew, are you serious?” she asks.

I hate the way she’s fucking talking to him, all that familiarity, as if they’re still close. The fury that had begun to dissipate reignites, a thousand times more powerful than before. Did he stay in contact with her? Remain friends?

Something more?

I’m shaking. About to collapse from the sheer bloodlust flooding me.

Stephen stayed friends with her. Works with her. Fucks her.

She actually grew up enough to become the head of her father’s company.

But Stephen was never stupid enough to allow her in front of me. I haven’t seen the bitch since we were in school together.

Andrew comes to a stop next to me. “Kaylee, I really, really would love for our companies to do business together. But that can’t happen if you can’t respect Lexi. She’s now my right hand and I expect everyone we work with to respect us both.” There’s no room for negotiation in that tone.

Battling for control, I rip my stare off the floor and focus on Kaylee. She’s glaring at me and Andrew. More accurately, at the half-an-inch of space he left between our bodies.

She’s always been beautiful with her black hair and blue eyes, but for a second, her expression twists, showing a glimpse of the ugliness within.

“We stand to make billions together, Kaylee.”

Ugh. He’s using that same “logical” tone he used with me earlier.

Inhaling deeply, Kaylee leashes her aggression. I see the moment the jealousy and hatred in her dark blue eyes morphs into greed. Whatever Andrew is offering to let her partner on, it’s clearly more attractive to her than our mutual hatred.

She faces me, expression flattening into a composed mask, and she says, “I apologize, Ms. Berkman.”

Well. Well. Well. Ms. Kaylee Whittacker has actually become a businesswoman. My surprise at her self-control must show on my face, because her lips twitch with what I can only assume is annoyance.

“Thank you, Kaylee. Now, if we’re all ready?” Andrew poses it as a question, but he’s already walking toward the sitting area at the other end of his office.

Kaylee follows him willingly, her covetous eyes eating up his tall, large form.

I blink, surprised to find my hand fisting tightly around my notepad.

And, no. It has nothing to do with her presence anymore.

Shit. Am I actually pissed off at the fact that she’s sexually molesting him with her eyes?

Yes.

Yes, I am.

I’m as angry about that as I am at the thought that they remained close all these years.

Kaylee sits on the black sofa, facing the wall.

Andrew stops next to the sofa opposite, waiting for me.

Something loosens in my gut.

Composing myself, I walk there and sit down on the couch. Andrew takes the seat next to me, less than a foot away.

Kaylee’s eyes flash momentarily to the space left between his thigh and mine. Other than that, she gives no other outward reaction.

She’s going to run to tell Stephen about this. The thought blindsides me out of nowhere, and I can barely maintain my composed facade. Of course she is. God, how could Andrew even think that working with her is a good idea?

My eyes flicker in his direction. Is that what he planned? Why he brought her here?

Andrew leans forward, bracing his arms on his knees. “Your company is one of the best when it comes to platform development.”

Kaylee lights up like a fucking Christmas tree at his compliment.

“That’s why I want to partner with you on our biggest project yet.”

No. Come on. He can’t be serious.

“Drew,” Kaylee breathes, eyes sparkling. “Rumors have been spreading for months about your Providence project. The entire market is on fire with speculation as to what you’re actually creating.”

“Exactly, Kaylee. And I want your company to be a part of that.”

Apparently, he is serious.

He just asked one of Menahan’s biggest allies to join our project.

Is he out of his damned mind?

“Jesus, Drew. I can’t believe you would trust me with this.” She places her hand on her heart, still looking at him like he’s her hero.

I’ve been fisting my pen the entire time, mute. When Andrew smiles at her, I don’t give a damn that the smile never reaches his eyes. I still want to jam my pen into one of them.

“That being said, Kaylee. I do have to ask. Will working with me be an issue in regards to your on-going contracts with Menahan?”

58

14 hours before Barnard Wellington’s disappearance . . .

At some point during the last hour, I started taking notes on my pad. I have no idea what I’m writing down, but I figure that pretending to be useful is better than the alternative—sitting here, consumed by my anger.

Kaylee’s fawning over him, acting like everything he says is the best idea she’s ever heard. And the hunger in her eyes . . .

One thing is disgustingly blatant. If I never actually had that dick and I couldn’t forget it, imagine how much worse it is on her end. She had it once.

“Drew, is that your bathroom back there?” she asks.

Andrew nods. “By all means.”

Another besotted smile and then she’s gone.

Andrew turns to face me immediately, his hand landing on my knee. “Lexi.”

I jerk away, hissing, “Don’t touch me!”

He grabs my waist, holding me in place. “It’s all part of the endgame, baby,” he whispers for my ears only.

I’m out of my fucking mind, that’s the only explanation I have for what leaves my mouth next. “She still wants to fuck you.”

His eyes widen, then flash with hunger. He yanks me to him, until there’s nothing but an inch between our faces. “You know I don’t want her.” His breath fans across my lips as he speaks.

I’m irrational, and I’m aware of it. Still doesn’t mean I can find enough self-control to shut the hell up. “You’re letting her in on the Providence project!”

Andrew’s hand slides down my side, past the hem of my skirt. My entire body vibrates as he caresses my thigh.

“A-Andrew? What are you doing?”

His eyes drop to my lips, full of that seething, unsettling intensity. “Lexi, I’m going to kiss you now.”

My eyes dart in the direction of his closed bathroom door.

Still closed.

Instead of rejecting him outright, I ask, “Why?”

His lips quirk but the rest of his expression remains the same—Serious. Determined. “I’ll finish explaining everything later. For now, I’m going to kiss you. Now, say yes.”

Odd, confusing man. He’s pretty much telling me he’s taking this kiss from me, but he still wants me to agree to it.

His hand tightens around my thigh and his thumb slips under the hem of my dress. “Say yes, baby.”

My lips part slowly on a stuttering breath, and my crossed legs press together tightly, locking his thumb between them. With a rotating heart, and a demonic instinct demanding that I push this man back on this couch and mount him, I fight for the strength needed to resist him.

To say no.

When I finally manage to speak, I’m not even surprised to hear what leaves my mouth in a tiny whisper. “Yes.”

His brow snaps down, a pain groaned seemingly ripped from him.

And then his lips are on my mine again, tongue slipping straight inside my mouth. I can’t hold back my hungry moan, can’t stop my nails from sinking into his shoulders and bringing him closer . . .

Hand painfully tight around my thigh, he twines his tongue slowly with mine. Licking me. Teasing me. His harsh breaths mix with my frantic ones, but despite that insane, leashed aggression I feel in him, he keeps this kiss soft.

Passionate but gentle.

My nails sink deeper into his skin with my frustration. Mindless, I shift closer, biting down on his lip hard—

He yanks away from me, pupils blown, chest pumping. Our sides remain close together, no space between us.

Dear God, I almost launch myself at him, that’s how painful this is. How unbearable the hole in my being feels. I wanted him all these years, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself, but now it’s back full force.

An addiction reawakened.

A need grown crazier.

I’m still fucking reeling when the bathroom door opens and Kaylee steps out.

Immediately, her eyes fall to Andrew’s still-racing chest. Then, down, down, locking on his crotch.

It takes me two seconds to identify the murderous intent roaring in my veins.

When she can pull her eyes away from his swollen, needy cock, she takes in how our bodies are touching. How Andrew is still angled toward me.

Eyes flashing, she stares at my lips.

At my no doubt swollen, wet lips.

Andrew makes no move to put space between us.

And as Kaylee makes her way back to the couch, her hands fisted at her sides, I realize:

He did this on purpose, too.

Don’t know how I know, but Kaylee was probably talking to Menahan in that bathroom. I wouldn’t be surprised if it actually turns out that she’s spying on us for him.

Something Andrew also suspects and he wanted her to see this.

He wanted her to know.

She’s going to run to inform Stephen that we’re intimate—and Andrew fucking Drevlow was betting on it.

59

My father’s back slams onto the porch.

I land on top of him. Before I even make contact, I’m already wailing on him. My fist collides with his mouth and I swear I hear the impact echo.

A lifetime of rage. Of hate. At least fourteen years building up to this point.

And my father laughs.

His lips split in a wide smile, even as blood floods his mouth and coats his teeth. “You’ll never find her.”

He tries to block my next hit.

He fails.

I get three more hits in before Finn and my father’s bodyguards make it to the porch. The bodyguards grab me. They manage to jerk me off him.

Growling, I throw my weight back, taking one of the guards with me across the porch. His body slams into the railing. The weight of me slamming into his mid-section knocks the wind out of him.

The other two come at me.

“No! Stop!” My father gets to his feet, wiping a hand across his bloody mouth. “The boy thinks that he’s finally a man. Let him up.”

Foolish, egotistical bastard. I’ve been training my body to destroy him for years now.

Even if I didn’t know it.

I feel my lips twist into a bitter smirk. “Do yourself a favor and tell me where she is.”

My father sneers. “Never.”

I’ve never moved so fast in my life.

Hands fisting his blazer, I send us both flying down the stairs and onto the cement walkway leading to the porch. My arm scrapes across concrete.

I barely feel it.

My father wraps his hands around my neck to immobilize me.

Too late.

I slam my foot into his stomach, sending him flying sideways onto the grass. Just as fast, I’m on top of him again, my fist connecting with his head. “TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!”

His fist collides with my face but that’s the only hit he gets in before self-preservation takes over. Trying to shield his head with his arms, he screams back, “Never! Even if I did know, I’d never tell you!”

I pause.

He doesn’t know where she is. He might have helped her get away from here as fast as possible, but he doesn’t know her final destination.

My hands latch around his neck and I begin squeezing down with all my strength. “You. Will. Find. Her.”

Face red, veins bulging, my father claws at my arms.

“You’re going to put every single asset you command to use to locate her and you’re going to do it RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!”

Somehow, as he’s suffocating, skin turning purple, he manages to shake his head.

No.

One single world and all of a sudden my father’s life loses all meaning.

Suddenly, an entire lifetime of pain whispers to me. Tells me that this is worth it. That he deserves this.

Finn screams out behind me, “You’ll never find her if you go to jail for killing him!”

The words register. I know he’s being logical. That he has a point.

My hands tighten around my father’s neck, almost as if separated from my body. As if I was born to end this man’s life and now that destiny has come knocking, there is no denying my life’s purpose.

Disjointed thoughts echo in my head. Need to kill him. End him. Make him suffer. Make him pay.

Hands grab my shoulders and I feel a sting in my neck. Immediately, there’s a rush beneath my skin, a cold sensation.

I jerk back, raising one hand to elbow whoever is behind me.

The world’s spinning but it doesn’t matter. I’m back to choking my father, ignoring his attempts to buck me off.

Harder. Harder. He’s struggling now. Losing consciousness . . .

More hands grab me.

Another prick to the other side of my neck.

Enraged, I realize what they’re doing to me.

I’m being drugged. Tranquilized so I won’t kill that bastard for what he’s done.

I roar, trying to break loose—

Something slams into my stomach, knocking the air and the last of my fight out of me.

Body falling limp, I struggle to stay awake, even as a black van pulls up at the curve and I’m dragged toward it.

My father’s hoarse voice reaches me through the fog. “Get him back to the fucking house where I can set him straight.”

“Mr. Drevlow,” Finn interrupts.

My father isn’t hearing it. “I’m sorry Mr. Walsh, this has nothing to do with you. This is family business.”

“But where are you—”

“Have a good day, Mr. Walsh.”

I’m lifted and thrown into the back of the van, face up. Struggling to stay awake, I lift my head—

Just in time to see Finn’s worried expression right before the door is slid closed.

I last exactly three more seconds after that before darkness takes over.

The last thought going through my head is Lexi’s name.

60

5 hours before Barnard Wellington’s disappearance.  .  .

What a fucking crazy day.

Exhausted, I walk into my loft, dropping my keys onto the side table by the door. It’s 7:12pm and I’m just getting home.

After the meeting with Kaylee, Andrew spent all day in the medical and pharmaceutical division of the company. He’d been overseeing my mother’s transfer. At around 2:00pm, as I’d been in the middle of looking through my new assistant’s resume, he called me downstairs.

My mother is now on the thirty-six floor of Drevlow Systems, Inc. Six floors beneath my new office. When I walked into the room they’re keeping her in, and I saw the tube inserted into her side, my legs gave out.

Most fucked up part? Andrew was there to catch me.

Tears spring to my eyes. “Don’t think about it,” I tell myself, walking tiredly toward my living room. My massive desktop is in one corner, on the desk in front of the exposed brick wall.

My heart thunders as I get closer because I know what I’m about to do.

I know what it’s going to cost me.

But it’s about damn time I find out the truth of what exactly happened all those years ago.

For the first time ever, doubt creeps in. What if he’s innocent? What if . . . you ran away from him and it all wasn’t really his fault?

Then everything that happened to me the last seven years would be all my fault.

Tears start leaking down my cheeks, hot trails of misery and fear, but it doesn’t stop me. I didn’t have a chance to talk to Andrew all day after Kaylee left. I have no idea what his plan is.

What I do know is that that man looks at me like I’m the only reason he’s still here.

What I do know is that six years ago, something really fucked up happened to him and it changed the boy I once loved.

I also know I watched the video of Andrew confessing to the cops.

But something isn’t adding up. The neat little version of events I convinced myself were the facts are systematically falling apart.

Dropping into my chair, I fire up my computer. As soon as it’s online, I open my browser and start typing.

Andrew Drevlow 2010. Our senior year. The year I disappeared.

I figure if I start there and work my way forward, the pieces of the puzzle will begin falling into place.

Immediately, on top of the results, there’s a slew of YouTube videos.

Sitting closer to the monitor, I squint, disbelieving of what I’m seeing . . .

One specific video seems to show Andrew on top of . . . on top of his father?

The title of the video proves my suspicion of what that thumbnail is showing me.

Mr. Drevlow and his heir caught on video fighting.

Jesus. Seriously?

Wait a second . . . I click open the link to the YouTube page for that video.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God.” I struggle to breath as I take in where this fight took place.

The yard of my old home.

Shaking, I click play.

Whoever took the video must have missed the beginning of the fight. Andrew is on top of his father, landing punch after punch. Suddenly, he roars in a demon’s voice, “TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!”

I choke on a sob.

One of the bodyguards comes up to the person recording and demands they stop, but not before I hear, “You. Will. Find. Her. You’re going to put every single asset you command to use to locate her and you’re going to do it RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!”

The video ends, no doubt because the person recording was forced to shut it off.

Shaking, freezing deep in my soul, I return to Google to continue my search.

I know who Andrew is talking about. I know that he was demanding his father find me.

Insane. Mad with loss.

I barely saw his eyes on that video but there was no denying it.

He’d been shattered by my disappearance.

My shaking fingers are clumsy as I pull up headline after headline. Article after article. The accident in 2011 was national news. I remember where I was that year. It was the first year that I started working for Stephen and his now-deceased father.

Willingly.

He hadn’t raped me yet. Hadn’t infected my mother. Hadn’t forced me to go into a binding contract to try and keep me under his thumb.

2011, as I was finishing my first year at college, Stephen convinced me he was innocent in the whole thing.

That Kaylee and Andrew planned it all along.

Barnard backed up his story.

And I, stupid, lonely, naive bitch that I was, allowed Stephen to convince me that working for his father’s company would keep me safe.

Would keep me hidden.

Only one of those two promises turned out to be true.

That same year, Andrew Drevlow nearly died.

By the time I drag myself to bed, the room spinning, it’s 12:22am. As I collapse onto my bed, still clothed, face drenched by my tears I’ve finally admitted to myself the truth.

Six years ago, Andrew Drevlow slammed his Porsche into a concrete divider at one-hundred-and-ninety-seven miles per hour.

And I think it was because of me.

61

1 hour after Barnard Wellington’s death.  .  .

A pinprick on my thigh. Cold liquid beneath my skin.

Swallowing, I try to open my eyes. My lids are heavy. So heavy. I focus on my window, the one facing the fire escape. On the moonlight pouring in.

It’s . . . it’s open?

Another prick in my arm.

Whimpering, I roll over.

“I’m so sorry baby. I have no choice.”

I squint at the large figure sitting next to me on my bed. “A-Andrew?” Why can’t I focus? Why is everything so blurry?

“Shhhh.” He leans over me, caressing my cheek. “It’s over,” he mumbles, talking more to himself than to me. “Had to. Have to make sure he can’t take you now that I’ve hurt him.”

What?

Andrew begins easing away.

“No!” My voice comes out slurred. I try sitting up but everything is too heavy. I’m too weak. Frantic to keep him with me, I grab his wrist. “Was d-dreaming about . . . you.”

Andrew exhales and returns to me, the light from the moon illuminating his face.

His . . . his eyes. They’re even darker than before, despite the fact that they’re glowing almost gold in the moonlight. Something’s off in his stare. Crazier. “What were you dreaming about, baby?”

My breath hisses and my back arches. I’m so tired. So sleepy. Yet I can’t fight this hunger. “You were taking . . . me. Showing me pleasure again.”

A choked groan echoes in my room. “Fuck Lexi. You’re out of it. Can’t—”

I fist the sleeve of his white button down. Is . . . is that dirt on his sleeve? Can’t tell. Pulling on his shirt, I rub my thighs together, trying to ease the ache. “Only you.”

Shuddering, he leans closer, his eyes screaming that he loves me. That he needs me. That he can’t live without me anymore than I can live without him. “Only me what, baby?”

Fighting for strength, I raise my hand, my arm feeling like it weighs a hundred pounds. It’s always so hard moving in my dreams. I’m always too weak. Defenseless.

My heart breaks with that realization.

I must be still dreaming. He isn’t really here.

Doesn’t matter. I need to touch him.

When my hand makes contact with his face, we both exhale with relief. “No one’s ever felt good. Only you.”

Andrew tenses. “Because it’s only been me and Stephen, and that bastard abused you.”

I pull on his shirt again, whimpering pathetically when he refuses to come closer. Shaking my head, I slip one hand down, out of control, needing to touch my pussy.

Andrew’s eyes land on where my hand is slipping under my skirt, that madness in his stare spreading.

“I-I tried.” Moaning, I play with my clit over my panties.

“What the fuck do you mean you tried?”

The anger in his tone makes me hornier. More desperate. “Tried to feel with someone else, but felt nothing. It’s you, Drew. It’s only ever been you.”

A constant, almost-purring sound reaches my ears as he finally, finally, leans down. He cups my neck gently, so gentle, but the way he’s holding me still frightens me.

Still groaning, he kisses my lips, and my fear disappears instantly. “Who?” He growls, rubbing our lips together. Is that cigarette smoke I taste on his breath? “Who did you try with?”

It’s just a dream, but somehow I know I can’t answer that. My instinct tells me I’ll be putting Paul’s life in danger if I do. “Please. Please. Make me come again, Drew. I need it.”

He shakes his head, hand tightening around my neck. “You can’t do this, Andrew. She’s out of it from the shot. Don’t take advantage.”

His words are low, mumbled. Confusing.

I don’t care. Growling, I force his hand between my legs.

A broken moan escapes him.

I cry out, coming instantly.

“Fucccck, Lexi. Fuck!” He flies away from me, leaving me frantically undulating on the bed.

Yanking my thighs apart, he falls between them. My thong is tugged to the side.

And then it’s his tongue on me again, piercing me with unbelievable pleasure. My hands fall to cup the back of his head, holding him against me. “Drew. Drew. Drew.” I thrust my hips against his face, rubbing all over his tongue. “Eat it, baby. Eat my pussy, Drew.”

He growls out against me, making out out with my cunt, his moans just as out of control as my own.

“Oh God. Oh God. Drew. Coming again!”

An animal’s snarl vibrates along my pulsating cunt.

I cry his name one more time, my heart stuttering in my chest . . .

It all recedes just as quick as it hits, leaving me boneless. Weak. Heaviness presses in on all sides.

Drew moves away and the sudden cold I feel at his absence makes me want to cry.

So long without you . . . Can’t take it anymore . . .

The last thing I remember is the sound of my voice, begging him to please stay.

62

I stare at the girl in the bathroom mirror and cringe.

No bones about it. I look like utter shit.

But that’s what a night of back-to-back wet dreams does to a girl.

“Stupid, Lexi. So stupid.” I practically drag myself out of the bathroom. Like a mindless zombie, I head toward my kitchen, mind fixated on coffee.

And those two dreams from last night.

Fuck. The second one felt so real.

No surprise, I woke up with a soaked pussy. I think I actually came in my sleep.

From a creepy, twisted wet dream featuring Andrew Drevlow injecting me with something before eating my pussy out until I saw stars.

That’s it. Introspection is bad. I pause by the living room and turn on the TV, leaving it on the news. Need something to drown out the thoughts and distract me.

Popping the little K-Cup into the machine, I choose the ten ounce option and fire the machine up.

The heavenly smell almost cheers me up.

Almost.

Usually, just the smell of coffee is enough to set my world to rights. For a little while, at least.

Regardless of the fact that I took a cold shower, my body still aches. My pussy is tender, almost as if it had been kissed and sucked last night.

Or it could just be years of neglect. I never gave myself willingly to Stephen. Never. Even after he broke me, all he ever had was the dead sex doll he loved to fuck. The one that stared at him blankly and gave no reaction except for when he turned brutal.

Eventually, he accepted it. Hated me for it, made it very clear, but he took the little I had to give.

It was never about my pleasure with him. Could never be. And not just because he forced himself on me, abused me.

He just wasn’t capable of making me feel anything good, and he hated both me and Andrew more because of that.

Scowling at the reminder of how little pleasure I’ve had in my life, I pull my mug out of the machine.

“Yes. And this just coming in. New Jersey’s own Barnard Wellington, CFO of Menahan Industries, has been reported missing.”

I gasp sharply, fingers going numb.

The mug slips out of my hand. Almost in slow motion, I watch it fly toward the ground, coffee arching out of it.

The glass shatters on impact.

The hot liquid drenches my foot; scalding me, I’m sure. But I don’t feel anything other than that cold shock.

“Reports claim that the elusive CFO of Menahan Industries had been in hiding for months now.”

Because he refused to pay an old debt. ‘Till this day, I haven’t been able to find out who he owes money to. All I know is that about six months ago, Barnard stopped coming into work entirely. We were all told he’d be working remotely from home.

Then, two days later, I overheard Stephen arguing on the phone with Barnard about his debt.

“Sources also claim that Mr. Wellington has only been missing for about five hours. At this time, there are no leads or suspects. Authorities request that anyone with information please contact—”

I stop paying attention. Ignoring my red, wet foot and the mess on my floor, I run back to my room to find my phone. It’s still on the charger. Ripping it off the nightstand, I find three texts from Paul.

Paul: Have you seen the news?

Paul: Apparently Stephen is pushing authorities to treat this as a missing person’s case although it’s only been a few hours.

There goes that sentence again. A few hours. My eyes take in the time—7:26am. A few hours ago, I think I was deep in that second dream . . . What if it wasn’t a dream?

Don’t be stupid, Lexi, I tell myself. There were no signs of someone being here when I awoke. Nothing but a phantom pain on the inside of my arm where that needle pricked me in my dream.

I already checked three times; there’s no marks on the inside of my arm. Needles always leave marks. Don’t they? Heart pounding, I read Paul’s third text.

Paul: Lexi did you by any chance tell our new boss about what Menahan did to you?

No, I didn’t, but he guessed it all on his own.

Oh my God. Does Andrew have something to do with this? I think back on the video, how he fought his own father for me . . and my gut shouts out, Of course he has something to do with it!

I’m not due into work until 8:30am.

Fuck it.

Rushing into my closet, I throw on the first thing I can find and run into the bathroom to fix my hair.

63

I watch the news on one of my many monitors as New Jersey society implodes into chaos, and I can’t help the smirk that tugs on my lips.

That fucking asshole honestly thinks he can flush me out by making this a public scandal. What he doesn’t realize is that I already knew he would do this. Expected and planned for it.

The body hasn’t been found. I don’t know if it ever will be. Suppose it’s up to the mafia and how much of an example they want to make out of him.

But I know Stephen is aware of his death. Considering he now also knows I found out what he did to my Lexi, I’m sure he put two-and-two together and came up with the right answer: Andrew Drevlow killed your best friend, asshole.

One of many. Not only do I plan to kill everyone that hurt Lexi—I plan to take down anyone that even thinks of getting in the way of that.

My plan puts Lexi in danger. Stephen is going to want her back twice as bad now. That’s why I had no choice.

I shift in my seat and rub my head, trying to ignore the taste of delicious pussy still lingering in my mouth.

Fuck, man. It’s bad enough that I snuck in there five hours ago and drugged her with the same shit my father once used on me the day we fought . . . But did I have to practically molest her while at it?

Shit, but she went wild at my presence. I’d just injected the nano-tracker into her arm when those big-grays shot open and stared at me like I’m her everything.

Then she started begging.

Confessing.

My jaw clenches as I remember everything she said. Who was the other asshole she tried to be with? God help me, was it more than one man?

How many soon-to-be-dead guinea pigs did she experiment with before she realized none of them could ever work out for her? Because none of them were me.

That new, demented, blood-thirsty voice echoes in my head. Kill them. All of them. Fucking hypocritical since only God knows how many women I fucked in her absence, trying to just deal with the catastrophic hole she left in my heart and brain.

But . . . “Fuck!” I need a goddamn cigarette. Face burning with rage, I send my mug flying into the wall. My broken mind spins on its axles.

Guilt. Love. Desperation. Fury. More guilt.

I smother my face with my hands and groan. Originally, I’d resolved not to stalk her beyond the tracker in her car, but then I realized that Stephen might find a way to get to her.

To take her.

And Asad? I have an entire file with information on that sadistic, perverted bastard. After the way he stared at my girl, I can’t rest easy. If it wasn’t for the fact that his company is secretly under contract to develop nano-tech for Menahan, I wouldn’t be dealing with him at all.

I struggled with my decision to inject her with the tracker, but at the end of the day, it was necessary.

Damn me to hell, molesting her in her drugged-up state wasn’t! I don’t even know the details of what Stephen did to her, but that stark despair in her eyes tells me that it was extensive. Brutal.

And here I fucking come, manhandling her in the back of her truck, practically mouth-raping her with my cock, then taking advantage of her last night.

She begged me to stay. My already cracked heart breaks a little more at that thought. Don’t lose it. Keep it together for her. Ensure her safety. Heart pumping with violent pain, I pull up the tracking software on my phone.

Just as I recognize what I’m seeing, the elevator doors open.

Most people would tell you that the sound of heels clicking is all the same. Doubt that’s true cause everytime I hear her walking, my body recognizes it’s her immediately.

She came early.

Lexi comes into view, looking as exhausted as I feel. Stopping at the glass wall, she ignores it as it automatically slides open. Instead, she focuses on the mess of ceramic and coffee on the floor by the wall.

Her eyebrow raises.

No time. I need her ready by tonight. So, without giving her a chance to even speak, I rise from my seat. “Good morning. Get your tablet ready. We need to start planning.”

That raised eyebrow turns in my direction. “Planning?”

“Yes.”

64

He made me come all over his tongue in that dream.

It’s all I can think about as he paces in front of me, his tall, muscular body encased in that charcoal suit.

He’s talking about some event he’s going to tonight on behalf of the company; that much I know. His raspy, deep voice has become the perfect backdrop to my pounding heart.

My phone’s vibrating in my palm. I’m busy pretending I’m taking notes as Drew speaks.

In reality, I’m watching the headlines come in, one after the other, thanks to the alert I set on my phone.

I dare a quick peek at my notifications bar.

Barnard Wellington Missing.

Son of Corporate Tycoon Had Been in Hiding Prior to Disappearing.

Barnard Wellington: Everything You Need to Know About His Fall.

My heart races harder and I quickly return my attention to Drew, my mind a confused whirlwind of contradicting thoughts.

I don’t know why, but I know this has to do with you. Bullshit. I know why. The psychotic look in his eyes when I refused to tell him what Stephen did to me is one I’ll never forget.

God damn it. Your tongue. I had forgotten how good it feels. He made me feel pleasure for the first time in seven years.

First, in the back of my car.

Then, he began haunting my dreams again.

Fuck. That dream I had seemed so real. As if he’d actually been in my room, eating my pussy so lovingly.

You’re my enemy. Yet he decided to help my mother of his own volition, before I even asked him to. The gratitude is still a heady sensation in my veins. I want him, this man who is my enemy. This man that once betrayed me.

I shouldn’t. God help me, I shouldn’t. Hating him is second nature. Has been for the last seven years. It hasn’t gone away.

I think I hate him even more now because all I can think about is walking up to him and biting that sexy, thick neck.

I’d do it hard. Mark him. Possibly draw blood.

“I’ll need you to come with me to the event tonight.”

His words slap me out of my sex-starved haze. “No.” Like hell I’ll be caught alone with him outside of work.

Drew slows in his pacing. Then, he comes to a full stop, his head swiveling in my direction. “Excuse me?” His eyes are hard. His jaw clenches. This is my boss glaring in outrage at my denial.

My entire body tenses on the chair, preparing for battle, every instinct aware of his aggression rising in the room. “I read your calendar and the briefs of what that event is going to entail. You don’t need me with you.”

But I need distance. Time to myself. Looking at him is enough to erase any sexual trauma. I feared sex for so long.

Yet now I’m crazed to suck his cock.

Writhe on it.

“You’re right. I don’t need you with me for this event.” He starts walking to me and something about his gait seems cruel. “What I do need is you by my side.” Drew grabs the armrests and leans down, trapping me with that ruthless, unrelenting gaze. “At all times. I went seven years without you—don’t ask me to spend another needless minute more.”

“What?” I snap, annoyed at his closeness. At the things he makes me want to do. “You’re planning on moving in, too, just to keep me close at all times?”

His lips twitch and all I want to do is rub my clit all over them. “Don’t tempt me, baby.”

My thighs quiver. I tense them, knowing that he’ll see if I press them together. My pussy aches so bad my teeth start grinding. “I have a choice.” The statement holds no authority, just the softness of a woman in heat.

God damn, his fucking scent.

I press back into the chair, desperate for some space.

Drew’s eyes search mine, before falling to my lips. I gasp as he bites his bottom lip slowly.

He’s going to kiss me.

If he does, I’m going to snap and attack him. Force him to fuck me right on his desk.

He’s still staring at my lips, his pupils slowly expanding.

Panicking, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “If you want me to go to the event, you’ll answer a question for me and you’ll answer it honestly.”

He backs up a bit at that, seeming surprised. “I’m your boss, remember?” His eyebrow quirks with amusement.

I glare at him and push against his chest until he finally eases away from me. “You want me here more than I want to be here.”

His eyes flash with pain and I blink in surprise at the regret I feel. “You’re probably right about that baby.”

That fucking word. The way he says it.

As if seven years didn’t pass. As if he never betrayed me. As if we’re still back there, in the field, where he’s making all his pretty, glittery promises and pretending I’m his world.

But God. What if he didn’t betray me?

You are his world. No idea where that thought came from but I shove it down. Lifting my chin, I stare at him right in the eyes. “If you want me to come, tell me. Where’s Barnard Wellington right now?”

64

Andrew shoots away from me, but not before I see his pupils shrinking with dread. “What do you mean?” His tone is casual.

I don’t know why, but his attempt at lying to me is like a kick to the chest. Suddenly furious, I stand and deposit my notepad and phone onto my seat. “Don’t play stupid. The whole world knows he’s missing by now.”

And fuck. Even Paul, a person that doesn’t know my history with Andrew, suspects he had something to do with it. Something Paul saw in Andrew must have given him the vibe that he would be capable of this.

Andrew opens his mouth to speak; I hold up a hand, stopping him. “And let me tell you something right now. If you even try to lie to me again, you’ll be putting me in a position of never, ever trusting you.”

His chest rises and falls with a sigh. “You already don’t trust me.”

Maybe it’s the dream still fucking with my head. Maybe it’s this insane craving I have to bounce on his dick—literally.

Hell, maybe it’s because I’m sick and tired of feeling so alone in this world, but once again I blurt out the truth. “I want to.”

His expression softens. “Lexi.”

The intercom beeps. “The delivery you’re expecting is here, Mr. Drevlow. As well as Ms. Rhines.” My new assistant.

Shit. It’s 9:00am already? The last half-hour went by insanely fast.

“Thank you. Send the delivery up first. Then send Ms. Rhines up in five minutes.” He walks back in my direction. Stopping a foot away from me, he crosses his arms, biceps bulging with strain beneath the dark gray fabric of his blazer.

I can’t help but get the feeling that he’s holding himself back from touching me.

“You’re right, Lexi. I’m sorry.”

Don’t know what I expected but, oh my fucking God. Was that a confirmation?

The elevator opens and within seconds, a huge Spanish man in a black suit appears. He’s carrying a big, white box in one hand. In the other, he’s holding two shopping bags—a cardboard one with the Christian Louboutin logo on it and a smaller aqua bag that would be unmistakable anywhere.

Andrew motions for the packages to be left on my desk.

My mouth falls open.

Grabbing my chin gently, he turns my head back in his direction. “I’ll be working with Ms. Rhines to get her up to speed on my calendar and such. That”—he nods his head at the items on my desk—“is your outfit for tonight. You’ll need to leave two hours early to start getting ready.”

When he turns to walk back to his desk, I have to literally shake my head to refocus. “Andrew!”

He stops right next to his desk.

“Are you confirming you have something to do with it?” I ask, my voice shaking.

He continues walking around to his chair. Once before it, he stops and aims those toffee-colored eyes my way. “Yes, Lexi. I am.”

I swear to God the ground tilts. “W-why? To bring down Menahan?” He’s willing to go this far? Risk this much? This is no longer just a private war between two frighteningly powerful CEOs. This . . . this has become utterly public.

“Yes. To bring him down. And”—he sits on his throne and smooths a hand down his lapel, as calm as can be—“because he helped hurt you, Lexi.” His eyes seem to shimmer in the bright daylight pouring in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. “They’re all going to pay.”

All speech deserts me as my reality once again realigns itself.

“Ms. Rhines will be here shortly. I promise we’ll talk more about this later.”

Normally, I wouldn’t drop it. I’d push and push until he gave me all the information.

Normally.

Right now I’m pretty sure I’m fucking shattered and I’m not allowing myself to process it.

In a daze, I grab my things and walk toward the sliding glass door.

“Oh, and Lexi?”

I pause right at the door.

“That right there is Mateo. He’s your new bodyguard.”

Because now I need one?

Of course I do.

Another elevator opens and a young brunette walks inside.

“Get used to his presence, Lexi. He’ll be with you everywhere you go from now on.”

Still reeling, I avoid my new assistant’s stare, walk back to my desk, and plop down on my chair.

Mateo, expression stoic, walks to the sitting area in front of my desk and calmly sits on the couch. Making himself comfortable, he pulls out his phone and gets busy doing . . . whatever the hell it is resting bodyguards do.

“Ms. Rhines, please come in,” Andrew says from within his office, and I realize she’d been standing there, looking at me have a stoic mental breakdown.

My eyes bounce off the packages on my desk, my heart racing so hard my chest hurts with each hit.

I’m way over my head. Lord help me, it’s time I admit that no part of this is under my control.

None.

I really did escape the hold of one tyrant, only to end up in the clutches of another.

65

I’m supposed to be on my way out. Need to get home and get dressed. Prepare myself for this event, a meeting of powerful people all donating to the Holtzman Charity. In reality, it’s the scene of whatever plot Andrew is hatching, and the guest list confirmed it.

Menahan will be there.

So will Kaylee.

I’m not ready to face Stephen, but Andrew isn’t giving me the choice. Logically, I understand that whatever he’s planning, he needs me there. But it isn’t just about the plan. Andrew wants to hurt Stephen and me being there is the kind of blow that will keep Stephen off balance.

Luckily for Andrew, I want to hurt Stephen just as bad.

However, that doesn’t make dealing with how fast things are moving any easier.

“I’m telling you, Lexi.” Mom pauses, struggling to catch her breath.

I fight to keep my eyes on her face. That oxygen mask is nowhere near as jarring as seeing the tube inserted into her.

“He cares about you. He’s going to help you.”

It’s funny how years ago, my mother had lost all trust in Andrew. Had come to believe that he was no different than his father. But over the last three years, something began changing her mind. Little by little, she became “Team Andrew” and I never understood why.

Now I suspect.

Grabbing her hand, I struggle to maintain my calm. Upsetting her isn’t an option right now. They started her on an even more aggressive ART regimen this morning. I can only guess the sheer amount of antivirals they’re pumping her with. “Mom . . . I need to ask you something and I need you to be one-hundred percent honest.”

Her eyes, the same color as my own, focus directly on  me.

“Did you . . . did you know what happened to Andrew six years ago?”

She doesn’t answer but the tears that flood her eyes tell me enough.

Shocked, I let go of her hand. I don’t know how my heart still has the ability to feel pain, after all the beatings it’s taken during my life, but I have to resist the urge to hold a hand to my chest. “Why . . . why didn’t you—”

“Tell you?” My mother’s voice is a strained whisper. “You didn’t want to hear it. A mere mention of his name would send you deeper into that despair. Not even Stephen’s abuse could hurt you as bad.”

I’m startled to feel two fat tears leak down my cheeks. Now, more than ever, I’m hyperaware of Mateo’s huge, silent presence standing by the door. I should be more careful, shouldn’t speak with Mom about this while he’s here. What if he goes back and tells Drew? Doesn’t matter. My emotions decide for me. “Wh-what are you saying?”

“The truth.” Mom reaches out for my hand. Seeing how thin and frail it is—how her weak fingers stretch while seeking my own—I can’t refuse her. Regardless of how fucked up I am. “And Lexi? He’s not like his father.” A tear slides down Mom’s cheek. “Maybe some parts of him are, but you matter to him. Just tell him everything. He’ll fix it for you. I know he will.”

I’m sobbing now. All-out ugly crying. There are no words, just me shaking my head. I can’t find the words to tell my mom that Andrew already knows the gist of it. That he’s making moves to fix it.

That I suspect his version of “fixing” what happened to me includes murder.

“Lexi.” The way Mom squeezes my hand shocks me. The move displays more strength than I thought her capable of. “Whatever he’s planning, be by his side. I spoke to him. I saw the look in his eyes. Trust him.”

I don’t know what to say.

A minute or two passes and then Mateo steps closer to us, clearing his throat. “Ms. Berkman, we need to head out. Mr. Drevlow gave us strict instructions as to what time to be ready.”

I didn’t even get to talk to him today. Again. He spent the whole morning walking Ms. Rhines through the basics; an event that I hate to admit drove me crazy. Apparently, Andrew Drevlow is obsessed with personally training the people that work closest to him.

Then he headed out an hour ago on an important “errand”.

Standing, I lean over and kiss Mom’s forehead. “Don’t worry, Mom. I plan on doing whatever is necessary to bring down Stephen.” I straighten and wipe the tears off my cheeks, shoving my feelings where I always do—deep, deep into the recesses of my mind. “But trusting him isn’t a possibility right now. First, I need to find out what’s really going on.”

Which means getting it through that man’s head.

Whatever it is, I can handle it. I’ve been through much, much worse.

66

I can’t handle this.

What the hell was I thinking earlier?

My ankle twists mid-step. My bodyguard momentarily places his hand on my arm to steady me. I barely notice it. Can’t rip my eyes away.

It’s just a suit. Nothing more. Stop overreact—Jesus. Look at him.

No, I’m serious. Look. At. Him.

Like the deadly predator he is, Andrew Drevlow steps away from his car, his eyes glowing golden in the street lights.

I can’t walk.

Can’t breathe.

How did I think I could do this?

“Mr. Drevlow,” Mateo says, surprise evident in his tone. He hadn’t expected Andrew here either. It hadn’t been the plan. We were supposed to meet Andrew at the Holtzman Manor, where the event is taking place.

Instead, here he is, frozen twenty-feet from me, body wrapped deliciously in that black suit. White button down open at the collar. Bow-tie. I’ve seen hundreds of men in suits, but there’s no denying that Andrew looks like pure sex in them.

His hair is as short as usual, shaved close to his head, but there’s stubble covering his jaw.

I haven’t moved. He hasn’t either. Mateo has gone silent behind me.

Andrew’s eyes drop to my feet, where one of my silver, Louboutin peep-toe heels is bared thanks to the slit in my dress. His eyes fixate on that slit, rising very, very slow, up the length of me.

I started shaking as soon as I saw the outfit—from the instinctual knowledge that he picked this out for me. The dress is made of luxurious, soft blue fabric. Not just any blue either.

Royal blue.

The same color as the dress I wore the night of my eighteenth-birthday.

Around my wrists and dangling from my ears is a small fortune in diamonds. My neck was left bare and I can understand why he chose it that way.

The multitude of diamonds sewn into the hem of my demi-cup bodice are decoration enough.

“Mateo,” Andrew snaps, wild eyes locked on my chest. “You’ll be following in your car. I’m escorting Ms. Berkman.”

“Yes, Sir.” Apparently, Mateo knows better than to question the man in front of us.

Even after he walks away toward his own car—a huge, black beast that rivals my own truck—I can’t bring myself to move a muscle. This attraction has blown up inside me again, worse than ever.

Lord help Andrew Drevlow, but if I get within a foot of him, I’m going to maul him.

Clenching his jaw, he starts walking toward me, each step controlled but determined. It’s like watching destiny coming at you full force—you’re scared as fuck, utterly unprepared, and yet you lack the strength to run away.

He stops in front of me, chest racing, eyes bouncing all over me like he doesn’t know where to focus. Slowly, he raises a hand and runs his fingers down the ends of my hair. I styled it over my shoulder, leaving a hint of curl at the end.

“I miss your curls,” he rasps, finally meeting my eyes.

There’s no answer to that. I’m busy staring at him, trying to make sense of this. How the fuck can one man have so much power over anyone?

He grabs my hand, groaning low in his chest at the feel of my skin.

That’s okay, I guess. It’s not like I was able to hold back my breathless whimper, either.

Lexi, you’re so fucked, girl. So fucked. Because I’m going to end up fucking this man. There’s no doubt. I shouldn’t. Really, really shouldn’t. Yet who on Earth would be able to control themselves?

“Come.” He begins leading me toward his car, that insanely expensive piece of machinery. It’s even more expensive-looking than his car all those years ago.

Something I don’t need to be thinking about right now. At all.

He opens the door for me. I’m unsteady on my heels as I lower myself into the seat. Once he’s come around to his side and settled into the driver’s seat, he stares at me silently for a few minutes.

Licking suddenly dry lips, I rasp out the first question that comes to mind, “Why did you change the plan and come to pick me up?” Why did you catch me off guard in a less crowded setting, blindsiding me? Maybe if we’d been around more people I would’ve been distracted.

The car purrs to life. “I couldn’t stop myself.”

Don’t look at him. Don’t. You’ll lose it. It can’t be normal that a person that’s been abused as much as me can feel like this—two breaths away from going rabid and devouring that man.

“I also need to get you up to speed.”

That finally makes me look at him. “Oh? You’re finally ready to be fully honest?”

His eyes flicker in my direction. “Of course, Lexi. I promised.”

“Why?”

“Because, baby, I need you to trust me.”

67

The Holtzman Manor is over an hour away from Jersey City. I don’t know how much time has passed. All I know is my mind is nearly catatonic from everything I’ve heard.

I expected that Andrew’s plan involved ruinous strikes at Menahan Industries. I’d already begun mapping out a series of cyberattacks designed to possibly infiltrate his systems. Or at the very least, check if the vulnerabilities I knew existed before are still there.

But Andrew isn’t just focused on destroying their companies. He wants to destroy all of them. He plans to play on the one weakness they obviously still have.

Stephen is obsessed with me.

I thought Andrew planned to lord me over Stephen, yes, but not like this. I’d expected Andrew to play on Stephen’s need to control me. Throw it in Stephen’s face that I’m working for him now.

But this? It goes deeper.

And Kaylee is obsessed with Andrew. That’s ridiculously obvious. She made no move to hide that she was fantasizing about getting him naked.

My hands fist tightly in my lap.

Stephen and Kaylee may screw each other from time-to-time, but it barely means anything. They don’t want each other—they want us.

Andrew plans to fuck with their minds by using their emotions against them.

“You . . .” I stare out the window, hands fisting in my lap. “You don’t just want them to know I’m your right hand. You want them to believe . . . we’re together?”

“Yes, Lexi.” No hesitation in his answer. No regret.

“You plan on seducing me in front of them to make it seem more real?”

Silence.

Another confirmation.

God, why does that burn so badly? “So that’s what you’ve been priming me up for? To put on an act?”

“You think that . . . fucking hell.” Out of nowhere, the car swerves off the lane and onto the side of the road. It’s a residential neighborhood, but a line of trees blocks my side from view.

“Andrew?”

His seat belt snaps off.

My head flies around and I gasp. Drew is leaning over me, mere inches from my face. His hand lands on my thigh—my bare thigh.

His other hand slides behind my head to fist my hair. “Lexi.” Expression strained, he squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m going to kiss you again. Say yes, baby.”

Trembling, I whisper, “And what would you do if I said no?”

His troubled eyes open. “I’d beg you for forgiveness after.”

“Are you telling me that you’re going to take it anyway, even if I refuse?”

That wet, sexy tongue peeks out to wet his lips. “Yeah.” His voice is so deep. So rough. “Fuck me, but yeah, I am.” His shallow breaths caress my lips.

My own breaths race. Looking up into his eyes, I raise my hand to his shoulders.

He slides his hand up my thigh, closer to my aching pussy.

Shaking from head-to-toe, I ease my legs apart.

His nostrils flare and the hand wrapped around my hair tightens. The hand on my thigh flexes—it shoots between my legs, cupping my pussy possessively over my gown.

My eyes almost roll back. A low moan escapes as my hips rock into his palm.

“Fuck, baby. That’s it. You want it.” He presses his fingers against my clit. “With me, you want it.”

I nod, breathless. “Uh huh. Drew.” Fisting his lapels, I tug his mouth onto mine.

Our kiss turns instantly rough. I rock into his hand like a madwoman, chasing that pleasure . . .

He licks my tongue and moans. “Sex is going to be so good between us, baby. I know you feel it.” Tugging my dress out of the way, he dips his hand into the slit. I spread my legs wider, mewling low in my throat. Eyes wild, Drew tugs my tiny, white thong out of the way.

Two fingers slide straight into my soaked cunt, thrusting deep. “Oh God.” I’m practically vibrating on this seat, back arching and hips churning. “We shouldn’t. We really shouldn’t . . .”

“Yes we should, baby. Let yourself feel it.” He leans back in to kiss me. That wet tongue and those low, hungry groans drive me crazy. Those fingers fuck me harder, twisting just right. “Come all over my fingers, Lexi.”

I do. Sobbing his name, I explode all over his hand, the pleasure shattering every part of me.

It’s so good I can’t stop rocking my hips, even after I’ve stopped coming. Drew kisses me as I twitch from the aftershocks. “This is so wrong. We have to stop doing this.”

“How is it wrong?” He continues to lazily swirl his soaked fingers inside me.

“I . . . I don’t trust you and you haven’t given me a reason to . . . to . . .” I choke as those fingers push in deep again.

“What do you need to trust me?”

I’m a hot mess, his hand drenched in my orgasm, but I still manage to focus enough to ask, “Barnard. Andrew, did . . . did you kill him?”

Andrew stares solemnly into my eyes. Fingers still pushed inside me, his palm still pressed to my clit, he calmly says, “Yes, Lexi. Yes I did.”

68

“Lexi. You haven’t said anything. Talk to me.”

We’re on the long line of cars slowly making their way up the winding driveway to the manor. I think I went into shock after Andrew confessed. Numb, I remained silent for the rest of the ride here.

He curses softly under his breath. “Now you’re scared of me.”

That’s the problem. “I’m not.” At least not for the reasons I should be scared of him.

His surprise is palpable in the interior of the car. “No?”

I shake my head without looking at him. “He was your best friend once.” And he killed him.

“You said it. Was. We stopped being friends after that entire bullshit went down years ago.”

“Why did they stop talking to you? Because you threw them under the bus?”

Andrew chuckles, but it’s a mirthless sound. “I stopped talking to them. Want nothing to do with those bastards.”

My breathing falters. “That never made any sense. You guys all planned it together. Why would you want to stop speaking to them?”

His silence almost tempts me to turn around.

Almost.

“Andrew, I’m warning you. Start making sense. All three of you were thick as thieves growing up. Everyone thought you were all like brothers.”

“Lexi, they didn’t give a fuck about that. If they had, they would’ve respected how much you mean to me.”

My head turns in his direction all on its own.

He pulls up in front of the valet. “If he cared, he never would’ve allowed Stephen to get away with hurting you.”

There’s no time for me to respond. He exits the car and walks around to hand the keys to the valet. I watch him the whole time, blinking back tears.

Dark, evil things have been done to me throughout my life, but never for me. No one’s ever . . . cared that much.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m really going to cry.

Drew opens the door.

On trembling legs, I exit the vehicle—and drag him directly to me. His lips meld around mine, in spite of his shock. My blood pounds in my veins, one statement repeating itself in my mind.

For me. He did this for me.

His arms snap around me, crushing me to him. One hand lands possessively on my ass, cupping me in front of everyone.

I don’t care. I need him.

His tongue slides into my mouth and I open for it, letting him dominate me. The low groan that vibrates in his chest sets me in fire.

Struggling to catch his breath, he ends our kiss, but leaves his lips against mine. “Tonight, I’m having you, Lexi.” He squeezes my ass hard. “You know that right?”

I smooth my hands along his wide chest. “First, you’re going to explain everything to me.”

He shakes his head and kisses me softly. “After.”

Only three days into having him back in my life and this man has me so horny that I actually agree to his terms. “Okay.” I still don’t trust him, still don’t know the truth of what happened on his end.

For all I know, he truly did betray me seven years ago. I’ll be sleeping with my enemy. Again.

Someone clears their throat.

Andrew and I turn as one, his arms still around me.

Asad smiles at us, a happy, pleased smile. As if we’re all old friends and he’s so glad to see us. He’s wearing a black tux, his thick black hair slicked back. “Andrew, my friend. I’m afraid I didn’t fully understand your meaning earlier.”

“You did,” Drew replies evenly.

Asad shrugs. “I suspected. I admit, but this is still pleasantly surprising.” Holding his hands out, he turns that sincere smile my way. “But I see that she truly is yours. Congratulations are in order, my friend.”

There’s only one word for this man, this . . . individual with his friendly, pleased smile. He’s beyond creepy. And beyond insane. That smile may appear pleasant and well-intentioned, but I can’t stop the shiver that goes down my spine.

Pulling me away from the car and toward the entrance, Drew pauses long enough to address Asad one final time. “I see you forgot what I told you about not looking at her.”

Throwing his head back, Asad laughs. “No. No. But you’d have to be a dead man not to look. You know it’s true.”

My wide eyes move to Drew.

His lips twitch. Other than that, he evinces no emotion. No reaction.

Until he speaks again.

“I also warned you not to think about her or even dream about her.”

That cold tone . . .

That smile on Asad’s face somehow gets even wider. “Now I know you aren’t serious. She’s a vision. You cannot expect any living man not to think and dream about her.”

This time, Drew’s lips part slowly into his own wide, happy smile. “Thank you for clarifying what the problem is for me. I see what I must do now.”

I swear to God, my heart stops beating. My body goes cold. Realization is like a loud, painful slap. That man just called death onto himself and he doesn’t even know it.

69

The echelon of New Jersey society mills about the manor, engrossed in various forms of mutual ass-kissing. Still, most people turn to watch us as we enter, their eyes focusing mostly on Drew.

Morbid curiosity lights up their expressions and suddenly it’s obvious—I may have found a way to isolate myself from the tragedy of what happened to Andrew years ago, but these vultures didn’t.

No doubt, they ate it up.

They probably followed every headline, dissected every update. Took pleasure at his fall, in that way that only the privileged and bored can.

Now, as we walk past the main foyer, they’re all hungry for a piece of him. Maybe some just want his money, his power.

Most of the women, though? It’s obvious what they want. An acrid wave of jealousy bursts free, nearly blinding me.

Andrew’s arm tightens around me. At first, I think it’s because he sensed my rising aggression, but when I look up at him, I notice that he’s glaring at someone.

I turn my head to follow his stare.

A group of men are standing over by one of the bars and most of them are eyeing me. Andrew’s fingers flex around my hip before he steers me to the other side of the ballroom. He’s practically vibrating with leashed energy. We make it halfway across the ballroom.

All of a sudden, as we’re walking by the dance floor, a sea of people ahead of us seems to part in slow motion. On the other side of the divide, a tall, black-haired man comes into view, standing perfectly still.

As if he’d been waiting for us.

The smirk on his face stretches into a full-blown smile.

I almost trip at the sight of him. Andrew tightens his arm around me to steady me, but it’s too late.

Years of abuse come barreling back into my awareness. My vision blacks out, skin going cold—

“Stephen, wh-what—oh God, please! Get off!” It’s dark, I can’t see, but his hands are everywhere. I can’t get him off.

“Stay still, Lexi,” he pants into my ear.

Revulsion nearly suffocates me.

I kick, flail, scream. He doesn’t stop and I know no one will hear me! Not here, in this hidden room, in his massive skyscraper, in the middle of the night.

My panties are ripped off. Teeth chattering from the fear, I start sobbing. “P-please. I’ve never had sex.” Unbidden, Andrew Drevlow’s face flashes through my mind and I start crying harder.

Stephen forces himself between my legs, but I keep fighting, nearly hyperventilating. “Let me have what’s mine, Lexi!”

The blow to my face stuns me.

By the time I come back to, I feel something hot pressing against my entrance—a single hard thrust and I’m screaming at the top of my lungs as my pussy tears around the invasion—

“Lexi? Lexi!”

That low hiss snaps me back to reality. Blinking, I look around. We’re no longer by the dancefloor. We’re in a large hallway, backed up inside an alcove.

Drew is in front of me, his hands on my face, worried eyes glittering. “Baby, talk to me.”

I whisper his name, chest racing, eyes watering.

Rage clouds his expression, and the switch is so rapid that primal fear slithers through me. It’s a deadly calm and detached look. A determined one. “I’m going to kill him. Right the fuck now.” He starts to move away.

My hands snap around his wrists, stopping him. “No. No. Not like this.” A whirlwind of turmoil razes my mind, but I shove it all down. Ignore it. I have to. If the man in front of me sees me break one more time, he’s going to murder Stephen.

Here.

In front of all these people.

He won’t care. He’s past that point.

“Drew, not like this,” I repeat, voice somehow steady. Trembling, I lift his hands back to my cheeks; he cups my face again immediately. “There’s no coming back from this.” No coming back to me. I don’t dare say that second part aloud.

Maybe he picks up on it anyway. That contained violence in him recedes, replaced once again by his worry. His thumbs caress my cheeks. “It was so bad that you’re still having flashbacks from it.”

One comment, and the final proof that without me saying the exact words, Andrew knows I was raped.

“Andrew, is that you?”

Drew turns his head to stare over his shoulder.

I remove his hands from his face and peek around him.

Just as he tenses, the danger beginning to rise in him again, I see Stephen Menahan standing there, a pretty blond on his arm.

A blond whose baby-doll blue eyes are wide with glee. “It is you! I’m so glad to see you.”

Stephen’s eyes land on mine, and slowly his lips curl into a self-satisfied smile.

It takes seconds for my brain to jump through a thousand different conclusions, but only one leaves me chilled down to my soul.

A low, rough sound leaves Drew. “Menahan, get your fucking eyes off her. Now.”

The woman on Stephen’s arm jumps at the tone of Andrew’s voice.

Stephen ignores Drew’s warning, full-on smiling now, that same vicious smile Asad wore earlier—the smile of a monster. A shark baring its teeth. “I find this to be a bit embarrassing Drew. Turns out, we may have a bad habit of sharing bed partners.”

70

There’s no time for anyone to react. A group of laughing people exit the ballroom and immediately they spot us.

“Menahan! Drevlow!”

For some reason, hearing those two names combined is what tips me over the edge. As the people close in on us, all dying for the attention of both powerful men next to me, I turn around and flee.

Running. Like the coward I am.

I only make it three feet before I bump into a blonde man with light gray eyes.

“Whoa, Lexi! Where you going?” He grabs my arms.

Speechless, I stare up at him, shocked by the sight of him . . . but of course. “You’ve been with him this whole time.”

“Finn, hands. Off. Now.”

Finn drops his hands like I’m a hot piece of coal.

Drew comes up behind me, his arm slipping around my waist once more.

And I snap.

“Let go of me!” I hiss.

“United front, Lexi. United front.” Ignoring the people calling out his name behind him, he begins walking. Finn falls into step next to me.

Without turning around, I can still feel Stephen’s eyes glued to my back the entire time.

“I don’t want your hands on me,” I growl, teeth grinding.

“We’re going to talk about this. But not here. Not now.”

That logical tone somehow breaks my heart more.

Yet, it makes sense that he doesn’t get it. It doesn’t matter to him. And it shouldn’t matter to me, but it does.

“Get. The. Fuck. Off. Me. I’ll walk on my own.”

“You know that’s not happening.”

The certainty in his voice is enough to merit a kick in the face. Is he fucking kidding me? Forever bossing me around. “In two seconds, whatever your little brilliant plan is, it’ll be ruined. You need it to look like I’m on your side.” I smile up at him sweetly as we walk by a second group of people. “My fist meeting your face is going to make that a bit difficult to believe, don’t you think?” I turn my head away from him once more.

Finn stares at us nervously. “Are you guys having . . . like a couple’s argument? Cause if so, I can leave.”

“No!” I snap.

“Yes,” the asshole next to me calmly replies.

A couple’s argument? Is he fucking crazy? Scratch that. I know he is. However, so am I, and my emotions are spiraling out of control. “Andrew Drevlow.”

“Shit,” Finn mumbles next to me. “She’s full-naming you. Maybe you should—”

A glare from Andrew quickly shuts Finn up.

I try to move away again.

His arm tightens and that stare turns in my direction next. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

“I already went through this with Stephen.”

“Go ahead, baby. Keep fucking comparing me to him.”

“How can I not?” I counter, chin raised.

His nostrils flare, eyes blazing. I can’t tell if that’s anger, lust, or a combination of both.

But, God, that expression—I rip my stare away. Don’t you dare get aroused now.

Too late. Can’t help it when it comes to that bastard.

“You still haven’t let me go. I find it hilarious how you haven’t done so yet.” Grinding my teeth, I try to think of my mom. Of my burning hatred for Stephen. Of why I can’t lose control and show the world just how much discord there is between me and my boss.

There’s no need to analyze why I’m so furious now. And yes it’s petty of me, possibly childless, but I can’t help but be hurt.

I mean, come on. It’s not like I could’ve expected that he’d have waited for me seven years. Why the hell does the knowledge that he slept with Stephen’s current toy break my heart?

Maybe because I spent the last several years being abused over and over, and Andrew was clearly out there still enjoying himself.

I can’t begrudge him that, but the fury and possessiveness I feel continues to choke me. Doesn’t matter what I tell myself.

“Mr. Drevlow!”

Andrew doesn’t slow down one bit.

Finn stares over his shoulder, then curses. “Stop. That’s Mr. Holtzman himself.”

Cursing under his breath, Drew listens, and I’m shocked when he turns us back around to wait for the middle-aged man heading our way. “I have to speak with him. No choice.”

Another part of the plan I wasn’t aware of.

Hold on. My back straightens and it takes all my willpower to hide my surprise. I’ve only been back three days. But Andrew’s plan is too detailed to have been planned in that short span of time. I turn my head and find him staring at me. Just how long has he been putting all this together?

“Mateo, please, stay with Lexi,” is all Andrew says before letting me go.

I spin around, seeing my bodyguard standing behind us. Where the hell did he come from?

“Finn,” Drew says. They both walk toward Mr. Holtzman, meeting him halfway.

I spin around instantly, grateful. Need solitude. Mateo is quick on my heels as I head down the hall, but that’s fine.

I have a way to lose him.

“Ms. Berkman, where are you—”

“This way.” A right turn puts us in front of yet another entrance back to the ballroom.

71

At the very end of it, I see the grand staircase leading up to the second floor.

I lead us through the ballroom with single-minded focus, uncaring if people notice. Mateo follows me halfway up the stairs before speaking again. “Ms. Berkman, why are we heading to the second floor?”

Because I’m hoping to find some privacy to get rid of you. “I’m sure there’s a more private bathroom away from the main party.” I slip my hand into my royal blue clutch, feeling around for the small pocket injector. Paul gave it to me months ago for protection. It looks like an insulin pen, but it’s really a tranquilizer.

Yes. I know. Fucked up. Extreme. But I have the dosage set to only deliver a small amount. Considering Mateo’s size, I doubt he’ll be out for long.

I just need to get away so I can have some privacy while I cry these ridiculous emotions out. My bodyguard isn’t going to give me any privacy. His boss wouldn’t allow it.

Guess it makes sense why I’m willing to take such drastic measures to get what I want. When dealing with men that have enough power to limit your choice, you become just as callous as them to get your way.

Mateo starts speaking behind me. I don’t pay attention, just speed up my movements, rushing us down a large hallway. He’s gaining on me, can feel it, is probably a second away from grabbing my arm to halt me.

The gigantic hallway is empty, and nothing but statues and hung paintings seem to be around.

Mateo grabs my arm.

In a split second, I swing around and jam the tiny needle into his neck.

The drug doesn’t hit right away, the dose is too low, but as his eyes widen, I see the haze start to cloud them.

If I stay even a second longer, he’ll be able to grab and restrain me until he fully passes out.

So I bolt.

I hear him call out my name, but ignore it, turning sharply. Down another hallway and yet another turn.

By now he must have passed out.

Panting, I slow to a stop and begin checking door after door. They’re all locked, which actually surprises me although it shouldn’t.

Of course most of the rooms would be closed off to guests. The Holtzman family actually lives here. I release the knob on the last door I tried and step back.

A woman in a server’s uniform steps out of another room. She startles when she sees me. “Miss?”

Fuck.

Schooling my expression, I turn fully. “Just looking for the restroom.”

She smiles at me. “The ones downstairs are that packed already?”

I nod, smiling back.

“Here.” She steps aside and holds open the door she just exited from. “This is a bathroom.”

This time, the smile I give her is genuine and full of gratitude, I’m sure. I rush past her, heart racing, wondering where Mateo passed out and if she’ll walk in that direction and stumble upon him.

She lets the door close behind her. I hurry over to the counter and drop my clutch on it, uncaring that all the contents spill out into the sink. Squeezing the edge of the counter, I stare into the mirror.

Is it just me or do my gray eyes seem freakier than usual?

Of course they do. I’ve gone certifiably crazy. Jesus Christ, did I really drug my two-hundred-something-pound bodyguard just to get away from him and have a moment to myself?

“Who are you?” I can’t help but whisper at the frantic girl in the mirror.

Fuck, I’m so heartbroken. Irrational. I haven’t been normal for a long time now, I know this, but this is different. It’s like Andrew’s fist is inside my chest, squeezing my heart, commanding it to react to everything about him.

I can’t hate him for finding pleasure outside of me. Just because I couldn’t move on from him, because Stephen abused me and also took that from me, doesn’t mean I get to hate Drew for living his life.

So why does it feel like I do?

I cover my face with my hands, trying to bring my hair-trigger emotions back under control.

The knob turns.

Crap. I forgot to lock it.

“A moment please!” I call, spinning to grab the door before it opens—

It does, and the tall figure that fills the doorway makes me freeze.

Smiling that pleased, good-natured smile of his, Asad steps inside. “There you are, beautiful girl. I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw you drug your bodyguard.”

That look in his eyes.

That smile.

I know all of it. Saw that intent in the eyes of another man one too many times to mistake it.

Stepping back, I growl at him. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

Without looking behind him, he closes the door. “Lexi, is it? This will go much easier for you if you just let yourself enjoy it. I promise you, I am a giving lover. If you don’t fight me, I can make it feel amazing for you.”

72

“When are you going to stop drugging my son?”

That voice reaches me from far away, barely recognizable in my mind.

“You’re son? You mean mine.”

The sound of my violently pounding heart fills my head. Rage. The emotion is so strong that I can almost hear it speaking to me.

“Ronald, it’s been two weeks!”

It’s those words that finally bring consciousness roaring to the full front.

Two weeks.

Two-fucking-weeks?

My eyes fly open. It takes a while for my vision to focus enough for me to make out details.

What the fuck did that asshole drug me with?

The walls of my room come into view. It isn’t that that catches my attention. No. The two, huge men standing just inside the double-doors of my room are.

Greg. Dominic. Two of my dad’s main bodyguards. They weren’t there that day on the porch . . .

That day two weeks ago.

She’s been gone that long.

I’ll never find her.

Everything I am revolts at that idea.

I open my mouth but my throat is so dry I can’t form any words. Dominic glances over, black eyes widening as he realizes I’m awake. He taps Greg on the shoulder before heading over to the nightstand, where a pitcher of water and a glass are.

When he approaches me with the half-full glass, I have no choice but to accept it. My throat is too dehydrated. Speaking will be impossible like this.

Lexi has a two-week head start. She can be anywhere in the world by now. Especially with the nice sum of money I’m sure my father gave her.

I know he’s responsible for this. Lexi and her mother didn’t have enough money on their own to get an entire two-story household moved overnight.

Fuming, I chug the water down.

Greg opens the door and leans out.

My parents are out there. That’s what I heard.

Immediately, I hand the glass over to Dominic. With a speed I shouldn’t possess, I throw my legs over the side of the bed.

My mother rushes in first, tears in her eyes.

Love her to death but I’m not focused on her. No. The smug piece of shit stepping into my room is the one I need to get at.

Mom tries to throw her arms around me. I hold up a hand to stop her, eyes on Ronald Drevlow, the bag of garbage that sired me. “Where did you help them move to?”

He simply shakes his head and turns to Greg. “As I predicted. His first thought upon waking up is her.” Turning to lean out the door, he calls out, “Roderick! Miles!”

I recognize those two names.

Pretty sure those were two of the assholes that helped my father drug me.

To my still somewhat sluggish senses, everything around me seems to happen in slow motion.

“Get her out of here,” Ronald orders Dominic.

My head wipes around in time to see Dominic lifting my much smaller Mom off her feet. Mom kicks and screams, but he all but flies out the room with her.

Roaring, I shoot off the bed, legs unsteady.

Roderick, Greg, and Miles come at me, surrounding me, their strength unsurpassable. Especially with that fucking drug still pumping through my body. As one, they lift me off my feet and throw me on the bed.

I try to lunge off but I’m not quick enough.

“Fuck you, you bastard!” I yell at my father, struggling against them all. “You did this! You’re the reason she’s gone!”

“Drew!” My mother screeches from the hallway.

“I’ll kill you!” Thrashing in the bodyguards’ hold, I watch as Ronald approaches a table by the door. On it, is an entire case full of more syringes.

He plucks one, a cold smile on his face.

“I’ll kill you! I SWEAR ON EVERYTHING I AM, I WILL KILL YOU!” My voice breaks with the force of my roar. “I’ll kill you all!”

“Ronald, leave my son alone!” My mother’s wail can barely be heard above my shouts.

“Now, now. Evelyn, calm down, before I have to do this to you as well.” Ronald approaches the left side of my bed, where all three of his pathetic puppets are bearing down on me with all their weight.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” I’m so far gone that spit flies out of my mouth.

Ronald’s lip curls up into a sneer. “Look at you. Like a rabid animal over that girl. That’s why I’m going to continue drugging you until you get it through your head that it’s over, boy.”

I’m still vowing the bloodiest of vengeances on them all when the man I hate the most in the world—the man half responsible for me existing in it—leans down and jabs the needle back into my neck.

73

I’ve taken self-defense classes in the last few years. So, so many of them. And all the moves, all the openings, all the shots I can take, rush through my mind at top speed.

Logically, I know I can fight back. That I have the skill to do so.

But, emotionally, it takes me a few seconds too long.

Asad reaches for me. His hot hands land on my arms.

Finally—finally—I burst into action, screaming at the top of my lungs. I lift my knee to catch him wherever I can, but Asad throws his entire weight onto me, slamming my back into the marble counter behind me.

I cry out from the pain, arms wailing.

My elbow connects with the side of his face.

A monstrous sound leaves him. Pain explodes through my scalp as he pulls my hair and whirls me around.

I’m still fighting, kicking, screaming, unlike with Stephen. I won’t check out like I did with—

Click.

The barrel of a gun presses into the back of my head.

All the fight leaves me. Instantly. Eyes wide, I stare at the reflection in the mirror, confirming what I felt.

Asad smiles at me in the mirror, pressing the gun against my head harder. “There now. One hit, I’ll let you get away with”—he runs the fingers of his free hand down my back, toward the curve of my ass—“because you are so, so exquisite.” The same hand he just caressed me with drops down to just below my ass, fisting my skirt. “I must have you, and I prefer not to have to kill you while at it.”

Fight back. Doesn’t matter. It’s better to die than to let another man rape you. I tell myself that over and over, but the truth is that Andrew’s face is once again at the forefront of my mind.

And the thought of leaving this Earth now that we’re together again . . .

“He’ll kill you,” I whisper, tears sliding down my cheeks.

Asad laughs, shoving my skirt up my ass. “I’ll kill him before he gets to me, so let’s agree to a mutual fucking.”

“Fuck you, you sick bastard. There’s nothing mutual about this.”

“There can be.”

My thong drops to my ankles.

My eyes dart to the injector inside the sink. If only I could . . . Not with this gun to my head.

The sound of Asad’s belt buckle pings through the bathroom. I close my eyes, cold metal against my head reminding me why I can’t fight.

Then again, what’s to stop him from killing me after?

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. If I hadn’t drugged Mateo, he’d be here. This wouldn’t be happening to me. “You don’t understand. Andrew will—”

I’m slammed forward, face pressed against the mirror. At my back, Asad lays over me, growling, “Don’t you dare say his name again until I’m done.”

The familiar sensation of being penetrated with no lubrication slams through me. I gasp, choking. He’s inside me. It’s hurting. God, it’s—

The door slams open, hitting Asad.

In the blink of an eye, he’s off me, and an unholy snarl rents the air.

Legs failing me, I spin around, almost lifting myself onto the counter from the fear.

Asad slams into the far left wall.

The door is slammed closed next.

A mad blur flies toward my rapist. A fist slams into his face.

By the time I recognize it’s Andrew, he has Asad on the floor, his hands wrapped around his neck.

And he’s squeezing. He’s squeezing down so hard that Asad’s tanned face is already turning blue.

Stop him, my mind screams, but I’m frozen. He’s doing it. He’s killing a man for harming me, and he’s doing it right in front of me.

Asad struggles to get his thumb into Andrew’s eye-socket.

In a rage at the thought of Drew’s eye being hurt, I finally push away from the counter. Within seconds, I’m on the floor, fighting to get my hands around Asad’s wrists. His dark eyes bulge at the realization that I’m grabbing him.

I’m holding his hands down.

I’m helping Drew kill him.

“Lexi, move away!” Drew growls, eyes flickering toward me.

Holding Asad’s wrists to the floor, I look into those toffee-colored, dilated eyes. “No.” The only way for me to release this piece of shit is if Andrew releases him.

If he lets him live, I let him live.

But if Drew is going to end him for me, murder yet another man in my name . . .

This time, I’m going to help him. I’ve never killed a man before but Drew isn’t doing this for me all on his own.

Asad’s choked gasps taper off. Drew’s still looking into my eyes; I’m still looking into his. Neither one of us look away as the man below us loses consciousness.

We’re continue looking into each other’s eyes long after Asad’s heart stops beating.

“You should’ve let him go, Lexi.” Andrew’s panting, eyes tormented.

“You should have, too,” I whisper.

He jerks his head. “He was inside you.”

“And you killed him for it,” my voice hushes out.

“He . . . was . . . fucking . . . inside you!”

“You saved me.” I let Asad’s wrists go, following Drew as he shoots to his feet. “This time around, you saved me.”

About the Author

N. Isabelle Blanco is the Amazon Bestselling Author of the Allure Series, the Need Series with K.I.Lynn, and many others. At the age of three, due to an odd fascination with studying her mother’s handwriting, she began to read and write. By the time she’d reached kindergarten, she had an extensive vocabulary and her obsession with words began to bleed into every aspect of her life.

That is, until coffee came a long and took over everything else.

Nowadays, N. spends most of her days surviving the crazy New York rush and arguing with her characters every ten minutes or so, all in the hopes of one day getting them under control.

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