The heavy door to the VIP booth opened, and Blaire was shoved roughly inside. She stumbled forward, her knees hitting the thick Persian rug with a painful thud. The door clicked shut behind her, locking automatically.

The silence in the room was absolute. The soundproofing completely killed the heavy bass from the club below. The only sound was the faint hiss of a humidifier in the corner.

Blaire slowly lifted her head. Her eyes adjusted to the dim, amber lighting. Her gaze landed on the man sitting in the center of the massive leather sofa, radiating the aura of a king holding court.

When she recognized the cold, flawless face of Kamryn Lane, her heart stopped beating. It felt like an invisible hand had reached into her chest and crushed her lungs.

Pure terror made her shrink backward. She quickly ducked her head, letting the wild red wig fall forward to cover her face. She prayed to whatever god was listening that he would not recognize her.

Kamryn leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes roamed over her body like a predator assessing a trapped animal. The look was highly invasive.

He let out a low scoff. The deep sound vibrated in the quiet room. He mocked her, saying she looked like a terrified rabbit, completely different from the slutty dancer on stage.

Blaire ground her teeth together. She forced her vocal cords to tighten, dropping her voice into a raspy, unfamiliar register. She told him she was just a dancer, calling him "sir."

The submissive answer seemed to irritate Kamryn. He stood up. His expensive leather shoes made soft, heavy thuds against the rug as he walked toward her.

He stopped right in front of her. He looked down, then suddenly lifted the toe of his polished shoe, hooking it under her chin and forcing her head up.

Blaire had no choice but to look up. Her heavily painted face was fully exposed to him. She bit the inside of her cheek until it bled, refusing to let the panic show in her eyes.

Kamryn's gaze lingered on her thick eyeliner for a second. His brow furrowed slightly, as if something didn't add up, but the raw lust in his eyes quickly burned away the doubt.

He bent down suddenly. His large hand clamped around her wrist. He yanked her up from the floor with brutal force, pulling her flush against his hard chest.

Blaire gasped. She pressed her hands against his chest, trying to push him away. His other arm wrapped around her waist like an iron band, locking her in place.

Kamryn lowered his head. His nose brushed against her cheek. He inhaled deeply, then scowled in disgust, muttering about the cheap, nauseating perfume she was wearing.

Before Blaire could struggle again, Kamryn's hand moved to the back of her neck. He tilted her head back and crashed his mouth down on her cheap red lipstick.

The kiss was a punishment. It was a violent invasion. He forced her lips apart, kissing her with a frantic, consuming hunger that terrified her.

As their mouths clashed, a sudden, violent jolt of recognition hit Kamryn's brain. The soft yield of her lips, the faint, underlying scent of citrus beneath the nauseating perfume-it was identical to the woman from the hotel yesterday. His brow furrowed in deep confusion. Impossible, he thought, his mind racing to reject the absurd coincidence. It's just a cheap trick. But the physical memory was undeniable, making his heart hammer in a way he despised.

A wave of absolute degradation washed over Blaire. She had suffered under his body just yesterday, and now she was being violated by him again.

Her fear instantly turned into blinding rage. Blaire clamped her teeth down hard on his lower lip. The sharp metallic taste of blood flooded both of their mouths.

Kamryn let out a muffled groan of pain. He shoved her away. He lifted his thumb and wiped the blood from his mouth. His dark eyes flared with a dangerous, violent light.

Blaire fell back onto the sofa. She panted heavily, her chest heaving. She glared at him like a cornered leopard, ready to fight to the death.

To her shock, Kamryn did not explode. He licked the blood off his lip. A low, dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. Her wildness seemed to turn him on even more.

He walked over to the small bar cart and poured himself a drink. With his back to her, he stated his terms in a voice made of ice. One million dollars a month. Be his exclusive mistress.

The number hit Blaire like a physical shock. One million dollars. It was enough to disappear forever, to completely sever ties with the Terrell family.

But then Kamryn turned around. The absolute contempt in his eyes made her stomach turn. If she agreed, she would truly become the cheap whore he thought she was.

Blaire curled her hands into fists. Her nails dug so hard into her palms they broke the skin. She stood up, looked him dead in the eye, and used her raspy voice to spit out two words: "Dream on."

The muscles in Kamryn's forearm tightened around his glass. He clearly had never been rejected by a bottom tier dancer when offering that kind of money.

He closed the distance between them in two strides. He slammed the crystal glass down on the coffee table. The glass shattered, the sharp crack echoing like a gunshot in the room. The temperature plummeted to freezing.

His hand shot out and gripped her throat. He backed her up until her spine hit the wall. He ground his teeth together, warning her not to push her luck. No one in New York said no to Kamryn Lane.

Blaire's face flushed red from the lack of oxygen. She did not break eye contact. She forced the words out through her restricted windpipe. She called him an arrogant bastard and told him he made her sick.

Kamryn's fingers tightened around her throat. Just as the pressure became unbearable, the sound of heavy footsteps and voices bled through the thick door.

A deep, cold voice asked the bodyguards outside-specifically addressing Mitch Duggan-if Kamryn was in the room. It was Calhoun Terrell.

Blaire's pupils dilated. Her heart leaped into her throat, choking her. If her adoptive brother caught her dressed like a stripper in a VIP booth, her life was over.

Kamryn recognized his friend's voice too. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and released his grip on Blaire's neck.

He took a step back and adjusted the collar of his shirt. He glanced at the door, his mind calculating rapidly. Losing his temper over a bottom-tier dancer while Calhoun was waiting outside was beneath him. It was a waste of energy. He decided to handle this the way he handled all persistent annoyances-with overwhelming financial force.

Not wanting Calhoun to see him losing his mind over a club dancer, Kamryn reached into his suit pocket. He pulled out a thick stack of cash and a gold embossed business card.

He shoved the money and the card roughly into the deep V-neck of her bodysuit. He leaned in and whispered a harsh warning against her ear. He told her to call the number when she stopped being stupid, and then ordered her to get out.

Blaire felt like she had been granted a pardon from death row. She frantically shoved the cash down into her tall boots. She grabbed the card, kept her head down, and stumbled toward the door.

She yanked the door open. She came face to face with Calhoun standing in the hallway. He had one hand in his pocket, his eyes cold and indifferent.

Blaire's entire body went stiff. She instinctively pulled the red wig further down her face and bit her lip, terrified to make a single sound.

In her panic, her trembling fingers lost their grip. The gold embossed business card slipped from her hand and landed right next to Calhoun's polished leather shoe.

Calhoun frowned. His eyes swept over her revealing outfit and the overwhelming scent of cheap perfume. A look of pure, undisguised disgust flashed across his face.

He did not look closely at the face hidden beneath the heavy makeup. He simply bent down, picked up the card with two fingers, and held it out to her.

Blaire snatched the card from his fingers. She didn't even dare to whisper a thank you. She squeezed past him and sprinted down the hallway toward the employee exit like her life depended on it.

Calhoun watched her run away, his frown deepening. He dismissed the strange encounter, turned the handle, and walked into Kamryn's booth.

An hour later, Blaire had scrubbed her face clean and changed back into her jeans. She took a cab back to the Terrell estate, feeling like a walking ghost.

She pushed the side door open as quietly as possible. The moment she stepped into the dark hallway, a tall shadow detached itself from the wall, blocking her path.

It was Calhoun. He had beaten her home and had been waiting in the dark. The faint smell of tobacco and an overwhelming sense of oppression filled the air.

Blaire's heart started hammering all over again. She forced a polite greeting and tried to walk around him to get to the stairs. His hand shot out and clamped around her wrist.

His grip was bruising. He yanked her forward, closing the distance between them until it was dangerously intimate.

He leaned down. His nose almost brushed her hair. His dark eyes glittered with a terrifying intensity in the shadows.

Calhoun spoke in a slow, deliberate tone. He asked her where she had been so late, and why she smelled like an overwhelming mixture of cheap perfume and stale sweat.

Blaire's brain scrambled for an excuse. She stuttered out a lie about going to a classmate's birthday party at a local bar.

Calhoun stared at her. His fingers slowly slid up her arm. He reached her neck and casually brushed his thumb over the red marks Kamryn's fingers had left on her skin.

He pressed his thumb hard into the bruise. Blaire sucked in a sharp breath of pain, but she forced her feet to stay planted.

Calhoun leaned in until his lips were right next to her ear. His voice was a low, demonic whisper. He warned her to stay away from Kamryn Lane, telling her that Kamryn was not a predator she could handle.

The double meaning was clear. It was a warning about her supposed attempt to sleep with Kamryn, but it also dripped with a sick, possessive jealousy.

The coldness in his voice made Blaire shiver uncontrollably. She nodded frantically, promising she would never go near Kamryn.

Satisfied, Calhoun slowly released her. He took a step back, his face returning to the mask of a strict, emotionless older brother. He told her to go to bed.

Blaire practically ran up the stairs. She slammed her bedroom door shut and locked it. She realized with horrifying clarity that every man in this house was a monster. She had to leave tomorrow.

The morning sun filtered through the stained glass windows of the Terrell estate foyer. Blaire dragged two heavy suitcases down the grand staircase, her muscles aching with every step. She had just tapped the confirmation button on her ride-sharing app, ensuring a yellow cab would be waiting at the curb in exactly two minutes.

She wore a thick turtleneck sweater, making sure the red marks from Kamryn and the bruise from Calhoun were completely hidden from view.

Just as her foot hit the marble floor of the lobby, the butler pulled the heavy front doors open. Kamryn Lane strode into the house, wearing a sharp silver-gray suit and bringing the morning chill with him. He had come specifically to deliver a final, brutal warning to Ewald Terrell regarding his family's pathetic entrapment schemes, but his cold eyes immediately locked onto the girl standing by the stairs.

Blaire froze. The wheels of her suitcase hit the floor with a dull thud. She stared at the intruder with wide, panicked eyes.

Kamryn saw her standing there with her luggage. One eyebrow twitched upward. A look of dark amusement crossed his face. He walked straight up to her and arrogantly announced that he was driving her to campus.

Blaire's mind went blank. She didn't know if this was a test, or if Danita had orchestrated this. Her survival instinct kicked in, and she stuttered out a firm refusal.

Kamryn ignored her words completely. He reached out to grab the handle of her suitcase. The sheer physical dominance of his presence made it impossible for her to pull away.

Right before his fingers touched the plastic handle, another large, pale hand shot out from the side and clamped down hard on the other side of the suitcase.

Calhoun appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He wore casual loungewear, but his eyes were like blocks of ice. He stared Kamryn down without an ounce of retreat.

Calhoun's voice was freezing and absolute. He told Kamryn not to bother, stating that it was his responsibility as her older brother to take her to school.

Kamryn narrowed his eyes. He instantly picked up on the possessive undertone in Calhoun's voice that crossed the line of brotherly care. A hostile, mocking smirk twisted Kamryn's lips.

The two alpha males stood in the massive foyer, locked in a silent war. The air pressure dropped so fast it felt like a physical weight on Blaire's chest. The tension crackled like live electricity.

Caught between the devil trying to buy her body and the brother with a sick obsession, Blaire felt a wave of absolute despair.

Kamryn suddenly let out a short laugh. He let go of the suitcase. He leaned in close to Blaire's ear and whispered a promise that they had plenty of time.

The words made Blaire's skin crawl. She jerked backward, straight into Calhoun's solid chest.

Calhoun immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him. It was a clear display of ownership. The heat radiating from his body through her sweater felt like a snake wrapping around her spine.

A loud, obnoxious car horn blared from the street outside, shattering the dangerous silence in the room.

Blaire looked past the open doors. A bright yellow New York taxi was idling by the curb. The driver was leaning out the window, smoking a cigarette.

The desperate need to survive overpowered her fear. Blaire violently shoved herself out of Calhoun's grip. She yelled that her cab was here and she didn't need either of them.

Before the men could react, adrenaline flooded her veins. She grabbed the smaller suitcase, abandoned the large one, and sprinted out the front door like a hunted animal.

Kamryn and Calhoun were stunned for a fraction of a second. By the time they reached the doorway, Blaire was already at the cab.

She yanked the back door open, threw her bag onto the seat, and dove in after it. She screamed at the driver to step on the gas.

Sal Petrovic, the driver, jumped at her screaming. He took one look at the two terrifying men standing on the mansion steps and slammed his foot on the accelerator.

The tires screeched against the asphalt. The cab shot forward like a bullet.

Blaire collapsed against the vinyl backseat. She looked through the rear window. Kamryn and Calhoun stood side by side, growing smaller in the distance.

Kamryn's face was black with rage. He kicked a stone pillar violently. Calhoun stood perfectly still, his eyes locked onto the back of the cab like a sniper.

Once they turned the corner, Blaire realized her clothes were soaked with cold sweat. She took deep, greedy breaths of the stale air inside the cab.

Sal looked at her in the rearview mirror. He handed her a napkin and used his thick Brooklyn accent to joke about her running away from a wedding.

Blaire took the napkin and wiped her forehead. She didn't say a word. She just stared out the window at the blurry city streets. She only had one suitcase, and she had no idea what her future held, but for this brief moment, she was free.