The harsh fluorescent lights of the emergency room burned through Gianna's closed eyelids.

She groaned and turned her head. The pillow was stiff and smelled like bleach. Her throat felt like it was coated in dry sand.

She forced her eyes open.

A man was standing at the foot of her hospital bed. He was tall, dressed in a dark suit that looked entirely out of place in the sterile room. His hands were tucked into his pockets.

It was the man from the alley.

Gianna's breath hitched. She pushed her hands against the mattress and scrambled backward until her back hit the headboard.

"Who are you?" Gianna asked. Her voice cracked.

Algot did not move. His dark eyes studied her face with an intensity that made her skin prickle.

A doctor walked into the cubicle, holding a clipboard.

"You are awake," the doctor said. "You had a mild dose of a date-rape drug in your system. We flushed it out with IV fluids. You just need to rest."

"Is she going to have any lasting effects?" Algot asked.

Gianna looked at him, surprised. His voice was smooth, but it carried a weight that demanded answers.

"No," the doctor said. "She was lucky she did not ingest more. She can be discharged soon."

The doctor left. The silence in the room grew heavy.

Alex Stone walked in. He held a clear plastic bag containing Gianna's purse and her ID card.

Alex handed the bag to Algot. Algot looked down through the plastic. He saw the driver's license.

Gianna Romero.

Algot's thumb brushed over the plastic right above her name. A muscle feathered in his jaw.

He turned his head slightly toward Alex.

"I need a full background check on her," Algot said, his voice so low Gianna almost did not hear it. "Everything. Focus on her medical history and any connection to the Conrad family."

Alex nodded once and stepped out of the cubicle.

Algot walked around to the side of the bed. He picked up a plastic cup of water from the tray table and held it out to her.

Gianna hesitated, then took it. Her fingers brushed against his. A jolt of electricity shot up her arm. She pulled her hand back quickly, spilling a few drops of water on her blanket.

"I am just a guy who was in the right alley at the right time," Algot said. It was an answer to her earlier question.

Gianna took a slow sip of the water. The memories of the car ride crashed into her brain. The heat. The desperate touching. His fingers.

A deep, burning flush crept up her neck and covered her cheeks. She looked down at her lap, unable to meet his eyes.

"Thank you," Gianna mumbled. "For getting me out of there."

"Who drugged you?" Algot asked. The question was flat, but it felt like an interrogation.

Gianna gripped the plastic cup tightly. The plastic crinkled under her fingers.

"It was a business dinner," Gianna said carefully. "My agent set it up. It went wrong."

Algot watched her. He saw the way her knuckles turned white. He knew she was holding back, but he did not push.

"What do you do for a living?" Gianna asked, trying to shift the focus away from herself.

"I run a business," Algot said.

Gianna looked at his expensive suit, his custom watch, and the cold authority in his posture. He did not look like a regular businessman. He looked dangerous.

Algot's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and walked toward the curtained doorway.

Gianna strained her ears.

"Sir," Alex's voice came through the phone. "I'm still digging, but initial records show she is Desi Conrad's eldest daughter. There are rumors floating about a marriage arrangement with our family - something about Prescott."

Algot stood perfectly still. He looked back over his shoulder at Gianna sitting in the hospital bed.

"Keep digging," Algot said quietly. "I want the full picture before I make any decisions."

He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. He walked back to the bed.

"Have you ever heard of the Vaughn family?" Algot asked casually.

Gianna's stomach dropped. Her heart skipped a beat. Why was he asking about them?

She forced her face to remain blank.

"I have heard the name," Gianna lied smoothly. "They have a lot of money, right?"

Algot stared at her. He saw the tiny pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat. She was lying.

"Right," Algot said softly.

"I want to go home," Gianna said, pushing the blankets off her legs. "I hate hospitals."

"I will drive you," Algot said.

Gianna wanted to say no. She wanted to run away from this man who made her feel entirely too exposed. But her legs were still shaking, and she had no money for a cab.

She nodded.

The ride to her apartment was silent. Gianna sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window. Every time the streetlights illuminated the inside of the car, she stole a glance at his sharp profile.

He pulled up to the curb outside her rundown apartment building.

Gianna opened the door and stepped out. The cold air felt good. She turned back to look at him.

"I never got your name," Gianna said.

Algot did not answer. He just looked at her for a long moment, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then he pressed a button, and the tinted window rolled up, cutting off her view.

The black car pulled away from the curb, leaving Gianna standing alone on the sidewalk, her heart pounding in her chest.

Gianna pushed open the door to her apartment. The hinges squeaked loudly in the quiet hallway.

She stepped inside and stopped dead in her tracks.

Dani Haynes was sitting on her worn-out sofa. Ronan O'Neal, another agent from the firm, was standing by the window.

"Where the hell have you been?" Dani shouted, jumping to her feet. "You completely ruined the dinner! Gus is furious. He is pulling his funding from the project."

Gianna closed the door behind her. She locked the deadbolt with a loud, metallic click.

She walked slowly into the living room. Her body was exhausted, but her mind was razor-sharp.

"He drugged my drink," Gianna said. Her voice was terrifyingly calm.

Dani scoffed, waving her hand in the air. "Oh, please. You probably just drank too much on an empty stomach. Stop being so dramatic."

Ronan took a step forward. "Gianna, you really messed up this time. Dani worked hard to get you that meeting."

Gianna ignored Ronan. She kept her eyes locked on Dani. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

She tapped the screen a few times and pressed play.

A recording filled the small living room.It was Dani's voice, clear and distinct - the same conversation Gianna had secretly recorded earlier that evening when she'd left her phone on the table, set to voice memo mode, before going to the bathroom.

"Just put it in her water when she goes to the bathroom," the recording played. "She will be compliant. You can take her upstairs. Just make sure she signs the contract tomorrow."

Gianna had learned that trick from a fellow actress who'd been burned before. Always leave your phone recording when the vultures circle.

Dani's face turned the color of chalk. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She lunged forward, trying to snatch the phone from Gianna's hand.

Gianna sidestepped easily. She grabbed Dani's wrist and twisted it sharply behind Dani's back.

Dani shrieked in pain.

"Listen to me very carefully," Gianna whispered directly into Dani's ear. "If you ever try to set me up again, if you ever threaten my career again, I will send this audio file to the police, to the press, and to your husband."

Gianna shoved Dani forward. Dani stumbled and crashed into the coffee table, gasping for air.

Ronan stared at Dani in absolute horror. "You actually did that?"

"Get out of my apartment," Gianna said, pointing at the door.

Dani scrambled to her feet and ran out, Ronan following closely behind.

Gianna locked the door again. She walked into her bedroom and collapsed on the bed. She pulled out her phone and dialed Brenna's number.

"Brenna, I need a favor," Gianna said the moment the call connected. "I need a ticket to the Vaughn charity banquet this weekend."

"Are you insane?" Brenna asked. "Those tickets are impossible to get. And why do you want to go?"

"I need to get close to the Vaughn family," Gianna said, staring at the ceiling. "Desi is trying to sell me off to someone named Prescott. But I met someone else at that hospital—Algot Vaughn. He's dangerous, but he's also the only leverage I might have. I need to understand what I'm walking into."

"I will see what I can do," Brenna sighed.

Three days later, Gianna stood in the grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel. She was wearing a sleek, blood-red dress that hugged every curve of her body.

She held a glass of champagne she had no intention of drinking. She scanned the crowd.

A man named Dwayne Riggs walked up to her, grinning slickly. He started talking, bragging about his wealth. Gianna nodded politely, tuning him out.

"Yeah, I know the Vaughn heir," Dwayne bragged loudly. "Well, the acting head, anyway. Algot Vaughn runs everything now. He is here tonight. Tall guy, always wears a black suit, never talks to anyone. He is up on the second-floor balcony right now."

Gianna's eyes snapped to the second floor. Her heart lurched. Algot. The man from the hospital. The man whose touch had sent electricity through her veins. She hadn't planned to find him here, but now that she had...

She placed her glass on a passing waiter's tray and walked toward the stairs.

The second-floor hallway was empty and quiet. The thick carpet muffled her footsteps. She walked toward the balcony.

The man was standing with his back to her. His shoulders were broad, his posture rigid.

As Gianna stepped closer, the man suddenly groaned. He doubled over, grabbing the balcony railing so hard his knuckles turned stark white.

Gianna froze.

The man spun around. It was Algot.

But his face was contorted in absolute agony. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He looked up at her, and Gianna gasped.

His eyes were not dark anymore. They were a glowing, unnatural shade of crimson red.

Before Gianna could scream, Algot lunged at her.

He slammed her back against the wall. His large hand wrapped around her throat. He did not squeeze enough to cut off her air, but the threat was clear.

His chest heaved. He was fighting a pain so intense it radiated off his body like heat.

"Gianna," Algot ground out through clenched teeth. His voice was a demonic rasp. He knew her name. He'd known it since the hospital. But right now, his mind was drowning in agony, and seeing her here—at his family's event, uninvited—triggered every paranoid instinct he had. "What are you doing here? Who sent you?"

Gianna was terrified. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. But she recognized the question for what it was - not confusion about her identity, but suspicion about her motives.

"No one sent me," Gianna said, her voice shaking. "I came because I needed to find out who you really are."

Algot's grip on her throat tightened for a fraction of a second, then loosened. The agony in his body was screaming for relief. He remembered what had happened in the car. He remembered her touch.

"Touch me," he commanded, the words ripping from his throat.

Survival instinct kicked in. Gianna raised both her hands and pressed them flat against his chest, right over his heart.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Algot's entire body shuddered. The rigid muscles in his arms went slack. He let go of her throat and slumped forward, resting his forehead against the wall next to her head.

He took a massive, shuddering breath. The crimson color faded from his eyes, returning to deep black.

He turned his head and looked at her. The pain was gone again. Just like in the car. The confirmation hit him like a physical blow—she was the cure. Not just a theory anymore. Fact.

But she had seen his eyes. She had witnessed the family secret. He could not let her leave with what she had seen.

"Who are you really working for?" Algot demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "The Conrads? Someone else?"

"I work for myself," Gianna stammered, her voice trembling. "Desi tried to sell me to your family. I came here to find out who I was supposed to marry. I didn't know it was you."

Algot stared at her pale lips. He believed she hadn't known about his condition. But trust was not something he gave freely. His hand moved swiftly to the back of her neck. He applied a precise, sharp pressure to a nerve.

Gianna's eyes rolled back, and she collapsed into his arms, completely unconscious.

Algot caught Gianna before she hit the floor. Her body was completely limp against his chest.

He stared down at her face. Her dark lashes rested against her pale cheeks. The red dress slipped slightly off her shoulder, revealing the smooth skin of her collarbone.

He pulled his phone from his pocket with his free hand and hit a speed dial number.

"Alex," Algot said, his voice completely steady, betraying none of the chaos inside him. "Come to the second-floor east corridor. Now."

Within thirty seconds, Alex appeared at the top of the stairs. He stopped short when he saw Algot holding an unconscious woman.

"Take her out through the service elevator," Algot ordered. He carefully handed Gianna over to Alex. "Take her back to her apartment. Make sure no one sees you. Do not leave any trace."

Alex adjusted his grip on Gianna, supporting her weight. "Yes, sir. And then?"

"Find out exactly who gave her the ticket to this event," Algot said. His eyes narrowed. "I want to know every move she has made in the last forty-eight hours."

Alex nodded and carried Gianna quickly down the hall.

Algot stood alone in the quiet corridor. He looked down at his hands. The lingering warmth of her skin was still there. For the first time in his life, the first day of the month had not ended in crippling, blinding agony.

Because of her.

He turned and walked back into the shadows.

Gianna woke up with a sharp gasp.

She sat up so fast the room spun. She grabbed her head, wincing at the dull, throbbing ache at the base of her skull.

She looked around. She was in her own bedroom. The morning sun was streaming through the cheap blinds.

She looked down at herself. She was still wearing the red dress from the banquet. It was wrinkled and twisted around her legs.

Memory flooded back. The balcony. The glowing red eyes. The terrifying pain radiating from the man. His hand covering her eyes. The sudden darkness.

Gianna scrambled off the bed and ran into her small bathroom. She flicked on the harsh overhead light and stared at herself in the mirror.

Her makeup was smudged under her eyes. She reached up and unzipped the side of her dress, letting it fall to her waist.

She pulled down the collar of her dress, exposing her neck and collarbone. She turned slightly to look closer in the mirror. There, stark against the pale skin of her throat, were five distinct, dark purple bruises. They were the exact shape of a large hand gripping her tightly.

Gianna traced the bruises with trembling fingers. The skin was tender to the touch.

It was not a dream. He had grabbed her. He had knocked her out.

But more importantly, she remembered the way his body had instantly relaxed the second she touched his chest. She remembered the way he had breathed her in, like she was oxygen and he had been drowning.

She was doing something to him. She was fixing him.

Gianna walked back into her bedroom and picked up her phone from the nightstand. She opened her messages and texted Brenna.

"How did I get home last night?"

Brenna replied a minute later. "The hotel staff called me. They said you fainted near the exit. They put you in a cab. Are you okay?"

Gianna stared at the text. A lie. Algot had covered his tracks perfectly. He was powerful, and he was hiding something massive.

She walked over to her small desk. She unlocked the bottom drawer and pulled out the crisp white business card she had found slipped into her plastic belongings bag at the hospital.

There was no name on it. Just a phone number printed in sleek black ink.

Gianna ran her thumb over the raised numbers.

Desi wanted to sell her to a dying Vaughn. But the man she had met, the man whose pain she could take away, was clearly someone important. He was dangerous, but right now, he was the only weapon she had.

She was not going to run from him. She was going to use him.

Gianna looked back at the mirror. She saw the bruises on her skin. She saw the fierce, burning determination in her own eyes.

"You need me," Gianna whispered to the empty room. "And I am going to make you pay for it."