Brook stood frozen on the sidewalk.

The freezing night wind whipped her hair around her face.

She stared at Damon's dark eyes, shook her head, and turned to walk toward the corner.

Damon's expression darkened instantly.

He shoved the heavy car door open and stepped out.

His long legs ate up the distance between them in two strides.

His large hand shot out and wrapped completely around her thin wrist.

He pulled her backward, his strength overwhelming.

Brook stumbled, her back hitting his solid chest as he shoved her roughly into the back of the SUV.

M. Black slammed the door shut from the outside.

The thick, soundproof partition behind the driver's seat slid up with a soft hum.

Brook scrambled to sit up on the leather seat.

Are you out of your mind? This is kidnapping.

She yelled, her chest heaving as panic set in.

Damon ignored her words entirely.

He shifted his massive body, crowding her into the corner of the seat.

His eyes dropped to the deep V of her dress, a dangerous, possessive fire burning in his gaze.

He reached up and violently yanked his silk tie loose.

He wrapped the expensive fabric around his knuckles.

Who are you trying to seduce dressing like this.

His voice was a harsh, guttural whisper.

Brook forced herself not to shrink away.

I am showing respect to my future husband. It has nothing to do with you.

She spat the words at him, a cold smile on her lips.

That sentence shattered the last wall of Damon's control.

His hand shot up, his fingers clamping hard around her jaw.

He crushed his mouth against hers.

It was not a kiss; it was a brutal invasion.

It tasted like copper and rage, a desperate attempt to mark his territory.

Brook hit his shoulders with her fists.

She kicked her sharp heels against the floor mats, trying to break his hold.

He did not move an inch.

Damon's large hand slid down her bare spine.

He pinched the sensitive skin at her waist hard.

Brook let out a muffled gasp of pain against his mouth.

Hot, humiliating tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over her lashes.

Her body was betraying her, reacting to his physical dominance.

Damon felt the wetness on her cheeks and slowly pulled his lips away.

His body remained rigid, hovering over hers.

No other man is ever going to touch you.

He whispered the threat directly against the skin of her neck.

Brook sucked in a ragged breath.

She raised her hand and slapped him directly across the face with all the strength she had left.

The sharp crack echoed loudly in the sealed, silent cabin.

The air in the car instantly turned to ice.

Damon's head snapped to the side.

He pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, tasting blood.

He slowly turned his head back to look at her.

His eyes were terrifyingly calm, completely devoid of human emotion.

He reached down and slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket.

Brook felt her stomach drop.

She realized he was actually going to ruin her right here in the backseat.

Suddenly, the phone inside her clutch started vibrating aggressively.

Damon glanced down.

The screen glowed with the name Helen Moore.

He let out a dark laugh, reached out, and pressed the answer button, putting it on speaker.

If you are one minute late, I am pulling the funding for your incubator tomorrow.

Helen's sharp voice filled the car.

Damon's eyebrows twitched slightly.

He caught the word funding.

Brook shoved hard against his chest, using his moment of confusion to snatch the phone.

I am almost there.

She forced her voice to sound perfectly normal.

She hung up the phone and looked up at Damon.

Her eyes were completely exhausted, stripped of all their fight.

If you ruin my work tonight, I will hate you for the rest of my life.

The word hate pierced straight through Damon's chest like a physical blade.

His hands stopped moving.

A dark, unreadable emotion flickered in his eyes, making his expression even more terrifying. His jaw tightened, and the coldness in his eyes seemed to solidify into something sharp and dangerous.

He slowly pushed himself off of her and sat back against the opposite door.

He adjusted his suit jacket, his face returning to a cold mask.

He knocked twice on the glass partition.

Take us to the restaurant.

He ordered, his voice completely hollow.

The black bulletproof SUV rolled to a smooth stop outside the heavily guarded entrance of the Michelin-starred restaurant.

The doorman rushed forward and pulled the heavy door open.

Brook took a deep breath, preparing to step out into the freezing night.

Damon suddenly reached across the seat.

His large hand grabbed the thin strap of her Dior dress that had slipped down her shoulder.

He pulled it back up, his rough knuckles deliberately brushing against her cold collarbone.

Remember who you belong to.

He whispered, the warning vibrating with suppressed violence.

Brook did not turn her head.

She slapped his hand away.

She stepped out of the car, her heels clicking sharply on the pavement, and walked straight through the revolving glass doors.

Damon sat in the dark cabin, watching her back disappear.

The shadows in his eyes grew darker, swallowing all the light.

He did not tell M. Black to drive away.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Carmelo Woods.

Inside the restaurant, the hostess led Brook through the opulent, softly lit dining room.

They walked toward the highly exclusive VIP section in the back.

Brook immediately spotted Dr. Julian Croft sitting by the window.

He wore a tailored navy suit, his posture relaxed and elegant.

Julian stood up the second he saw her.

He pulled her chair out and offered a polite compliment about her dress.

Brook forced a professional smile onto her face and sat down.

She tried to push the physical memory of Damon's heavy body out of her mind.

As she reached for her water glass, her eyes caught movement at a booth diagonally across from them.

A woman in a custom Chanel suit was laughing loudly.

It was her half-sister, Aliyah Velazquez.

Brook's stomach dropped.

She looked at the man sitting across from Aliyah.

It was Carmelo Woods, Damon's best friend.

Aliyah turned her head, her eyes locking directly onto Brook.

A toxic, calculating smile spread across Aliyah's face.

She picked up her champagne flute and raised it slightly in Brook's direction, a silent declaration of war.

Brook's fingers tightened around her glass until her knuckles turned white.

This was not a coincidence.

The restaurant was a trap.

Julian noticed the sudden tension in her shoulders and asked if she was feeling cold.

Brook shook her head, forcing her eyes back to her date, trying to maintain the illusion of a normal conversation.

Outside on the street, Damon sat in the SUV, holding his phone to his ear.

Carmelo was giving him a live play-by-play from inside.

He is leaning in close. She is smiling at him. They look very comfortable.

Carmelo exaggerated the details, his voice dripping with amusement.

Damon's jaw locked so tight he felt a muscle pull in his neck.

His breathing turned heavy and ragged.

He pressed the lit end of the cigar directly against the car's custom leather armrest. The sickening smell of burning hide instantly filled the small space, matching the destructive urge clawing at his insides.

Carmelo casually added that Aliyah was dropping hints about Brook's mother doing dirty business.

Damon did not care about the Velazquez family drama.

His brain was entirely consumed by the image of Brook smiling at another man.

He shoved the car door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

He ignored M. Black's warning look and took three heavy steps toward the restaurant entrance.

His body was radiating pure violence.

But as his hand reached for the brass handle of the door, he froze.

I will hate you for the rest of my life.

Her voice echoed in his head, freezing the blood in his veins.

If he walked in there and dragged her out, he would lose her permanently.

Damon stepped back into the freezing wind.

He ripped his tie completely off and threw it onto the pavement.

He stared through the thick glass windows, his eyes wild and desperate like a starving wolf.

He turned to M. Black.

Call the security team. Lock down every exit on this block.

His voice was a low, terrifying growl.

He was not going to interrupt her dinner.

But he was going to make damn sure no other man took her home tonight.

Brook picked up her crystal flute and took a slow sip of the sparkling wine.

The cold liquid slid down her throat, but it did nothing to wash away the heavy tension sitting in her stomach.

She kept her eyes focused on the table, trying to ignore the toxic glare burning into the side of her face from Aliyah's booth.

Julian noticed the rigid line of her shoulders.

He leaned forward slightly, his expression open and polite.

Are you feeling a draft from the vent?

He asked, already raising his hand to signal a waiter to adjust the thermostat.

Brook let out a small breath, feeling a rare second of actual relaxation.

His basic human decency was a sharp contrast to the suffocating control she was used to.

I am fine, thank you.

She offered him a genuine, unforced smile.

A loud, high-pitched laugh cut through the quiet hum of the dining room.

Brook did not have to turn her head to know it was Aliyah.

Her half-sister was leaning across her table, playfully slapping Carmelo's arm.

Brook's fingers tightened around the stem of her glass.

She knew exactly how Aliyah operated.

Every loud laugh and exaggerated movement was a calculated performance designed entirely for Brook to see.

At the other table, Carmelo picked up his phone.

He pretended to take a photo of the expensive chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

He tilted the lens down just enough to capture a crystal-clear shot of Brook's table.

Outside the restaurant, the freezing wind battered the sides of the black SUV.

Damon sat in the dark cabin, his chest rising and falling in heavy, uneven jerks.

His phone screen lit up, illuminating his harsh features.

It was a high-resolution photo from Carmelo.

The image showed Brook looking directly at the doctor in the navy suit.

She was smiling.

It was a soft, unguarded smile that Damon had not seen on her face in months.

Damon's pupils contracted into tiny, dangerous points.

His large hand clamped down on his phone.

The expensive titanium case let out a sharp cracking sound under the crushing pressure of his grip.

The oxygen in the car suddenly felt too thick to breathe.

He reached up and violently ripped the top two buttons of his dress shirt open.

The fabric tore, but the heavy block of ice sitting on his chest refused to melt.

Inside the VIP section, a low buzzing sound interrupted the quiet music.

Julian pulled his phone from his jacket pocket.

He looked at the screen, and a deep frown formed between his eyebrows.

I am so sorry, Brook. The Mount Sinai emergency room just paged me.

He explained, his voice tight with professional urgency.

Brook nodded immediately, her posture straightening.

Please, take the call. The hallway is much quieter.

She gestured toward the carpeted corridor leading to the restrooms.

Julian gave her an apologetic look and stood up.

His tall frame disappeared around the corner.

The second Julian was out of sight, Aliyah stood up from her booth.

She picked up her half-empty champagne glass.

She swayed her hips, walking directly toward Brook's table.

Brook watched her approach.

The muscles in her back locked into place.

She pulled her spine completely straight, building a solid wall of ice over her features.

Aliyah pulled Julian's chair out and sat down without asking.

She dragged her eyes up and down Brook's body, her lips curling into a nasty sneer.

You can put on a custom Dior gown, but you still look like cheap trash trying to play princess.

Aliyah whispered.

Her voice was pitched low, dripping with pure venom.

Brook did not blink.

She looked at Aliyah with absolute, deadpan boredom.

And you can carry a Birkin bag, but it will never wash the stench of a mistress's daughter off your skin.

Brook stated the fact plainly, her tone completely flat.

Aliyah's face turned a violent shade of red.

The blood drained from her lips, leaving them pale and shaking.

Her illegitimate birth was the one raw nerve she could not hide.

Carmelo sat at his table, watching the two sisters tear into each other.

His thumbs flew across his phone screen, sending a rapid text to Damon.

In the SUV, Damon read the words flashing on his screen.

Aliyah is at her table. She is attacking her.

The suffocating jealousy in Damon's chest was instantly swallowed by a blind, violent rage.

He could punish Brook.

He could fight with her.

But he would never let another breathing human being disrespect her.

Damon's hand shot out and grabbed the heavy metal door handle.

He was going to walk in there and drag that pathetic Velazquez girl out by her hair.

M. Black turned his head quickly from the driver's seat.

If you walk in there now, she will know you have been tracking her every move tonight.

M. Black's voice was low and urgent.

Damon's hand froze on the handle.

The metal was freezing, biting into his skin.

If you ruin my work tonight, I will hate you for the rest of my life.

Brook's voice echoed in his ears, a sharp blade cutting through his blind rage.

He forced his hand to let go of the door.

Inside the restaurant, Aliyah leaned across the table.

Her face twisted into a sick, triumphant smile.

Do you really think a man like Damon would ever be seen with someone like you in public? He keeps you in the dark for a reason.

She asked, her voice dropping to a sinister whisper.

Brook narrowed her eyes, a cold prickle of warning sliding down her spine.

What crazy garbage are you talking about now.

Brook demanded, her voice hard.

Aliyah let out a short, cold laugh and stood up.

She tilted her glass forward.

The remaining champagne poured out in a steady stream, splashing directly onto the pristine white tablecloth right in front of Brook.

The dark yellow stain spread rapidly across the expensive fabric.

Watch your back, Brook.

Aliyah dropped the threat casually.

She turned around and walked back to her booth, her heels clicking loudly against the floor, just seconds before Julian reappeared from the hallway.