The harsh spotlight illuminated Katelyn's face perfectly.

Etienne stared down at her.

His pupils dilated so fast his eyes looked completely black.

He saw the starlit eyes. He saw the tiny mole on her collarbone.

It was her.

The phantom he had been hunting for three months was standing right in his gallery.

The grip on her wrist tightened painfully.

"You," Etienne breathed, his voice a dangerous, vibrating rumble.

Katelyn's mind short-circuited.

It was the bastard from the linen closet.

Before she could process the impossibility of the situation, the heavy velvet doors of the gallery swung open.

"Check behind the displays," a security guard ordered.

Katelyn panicked.

If the guards caught her, they would drag her back to Julian. Julian would hand her to Arnett.

She looked up at Etienne. His jaw was locked, his eyes burning with a terrifying mixture of rage and raw hunger.

She had to use him again.

Katelyn stepped directly into his space.

She pressed her chest flush against his. She slid her free hand up his chest, gripping the lapel of his black shirt.

She dragged her thigh slowly, deliberately against his leg.

She went up on her tiptoes, her lips brushing his jawline.

"Take me out of here," she whispered, her voice a husky, desperate purr. "Or take me right here on the floor. Your choice."

Etienne let out a harsh, incredulous laugh.

He couldn't believe the sheer audacity of this woman. She was trying to play him again.

The beams of the guards' flashlights swept across the far wall.

Etienne's eyes darkened.

He didn't say a word. He wrapped his massive arm around her waist, lifting her entirely off the floor.

He carried her to the back of the gallery, pressing his thumb against a biometric scanner hidden in the wall.

A seamless metal door slid open.

He threw her inside and stepped in after her. The door hissed shut, cutting off the guards' voices completely.

It was a glass-walled private elevator.

The elevator shot upward with stomach-dropping speed.

Etienne backed Katelyn up until her spine hit the cold glass.

He planted his hands on the glass on either side of her head, trapping her.

He leaned in, his face inches from hers.

"What's your name?" Etienne demanded, his voice laced with venom. "Or are you going to lie to me again before you try to rob me?"

Katelyn met his furious gaze without flinching.

"Kate," she lied smoothly. "And I don't need to rob you. You look like you can afford whatever I want."

The elevator chimed.

The doors opened directly into the sprawling, ultra-luxurious master penthouse.

Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the pitch-black ocean.

Etienne didn't hesitate.

He scooped her up, threw her over his shoulder, and strode into the master bedroom.

He tossed her onto the massive, circular black velvet bed.

Katelyn bounced on the mattress, trying to scramble backward, but Etienne was already on top of her.

He grabbed the delicate straps of her silk dress.

With one violent yank, the expensive fabric tore down the middle.

It wasn't a gentle seduction. It was a war.

Katelyn didn't cower. She fought back.

She dug her nails into the heavy muscles of his back, pulling him down, matching his aggression with a feral hunger of her own.

They collided in a chaotic tangle of limbs, biting, scratching, and consuming each other.

Meanwhile, down on the lower deck, Julian was pacing furiously.

"Yes, Mr. Reed," Julian said into his phone. "I swear to God, it was her. She's on the Shadow Trust."

Thousands of miles away in California, Arnett slammed his fist on his desk.

"Call the maritime authorities," Arnett roared to his assistants. "Send the helicopters. Ground that yacht!"

Back in the penthouse, the storm finally broke.

Katelyn lay on the tangled black sheets, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and marked with red fingerprints.

Etienne sat up against the headboard.

He reached over, pulled a cigarette from a silver case, and lit it.

He took a slow drag, his eyes never leaving her face. The rage had settled into a deep, possessive satisfaction.

He blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling.

"You're not running this time, Kate," Etienne said, his voice a low, gravelly threat. "You're not leaving my sight."

2:00 AM.

The rhythmic rocking of the superyacht was the only sound in the dark bedroom.

The smart lighting was dimmed to a faint, ambient glow.

Etienne's breathing was deep and even. His heavy, muscular arm was thrown across Katelyn's waist, pinning her to the mattress like an anchor.

Katelyn's eyes were wide open.

She stared at the ceiling, her mind racing.

She had used him to hide, but staying here was a death sentence. Julian had definitely made the call.

She needed to get off this boat before it docked.

Moving with agonizing slowness, Katelyn slid her fingers under Etienne's heavy forearm.

Millimeter by millimeter, she lifted his arm.

He shifted slightly, letting out a low grunt. Katelyn froze, her heart stopping in her chest.

He settled back down.

She slipped out from under him and slid off the edge of the bed. Her bare feet hit the thick carpet without a sound.

Her dress was shredded beyond repair.

She crept into his massive walk-in closet and pulled a crisp white button-down shirt from a hanger.

She slipped it on, buttoning it up. The hem fell just mid-thigh.

She grabbed her clutch from the floor, checking inside. Passport. Phone. Intact.

As she turned to leave, the moonlight caught something metallic on the nightstand.

It was a solid black metal card.

Before they fell asleep, Etienne had tossed it to her.

"If you get lost, show that to anyone on this boat. It's my personal line," he had said arrogantly.

Katelyn sneered.

She picked up the heavy black card. Her fingers tightened around the cold metal, a surge of absolute disgust rolling through her veins. She walked over to the heavy, solid brass base of the bedside lamp. She slammed the edge of the brass base down onto the card, striking it repeatedly with brutal force until the microchip shattered into useless, jagged pieces. She tossed it into the trash can.

She walked out of the bedroom, crossing the sprawling living area toward the double metal doors of the private elevator.

She pressed the call button.

Instead of glowing green, the button flashed a harsh, angry red.

A cold, mechanized female voice echoed from the ceiling speakers.

"Error. Lockdown mode activated."

Katelyn's stomach plummeted.

She slammed her palm against the button again. Red.

She ran to the heavy steel emergency exit door next to the elevator. She grabbed the handle and yanked with all her strength.

It was deadbolted from the inside.

Panic clawed at her throat. She pulled her phone from her clutch to call Eleanor.

She looked at the screen.

No Service.

The satellite signal was completely jammed.

Suddenly, the smart lights in the living room flared to a blinding, surgical white.

Katelyn threw her hand up to shield her eyes.

"You made a fool out of me once," a dark, lazy voice echoed through the room. "Did you really think I was stupid enough to let you do it twice?"

Katelyn spun around.

Etienne was leaning against the bedroom doorframe.

He was wearing a black silk robe, loosely tied. He held a crystal glass of whiskey in one hand.

His eyes were razor-sharp, completely devoid of sleep.

He had been awake the entire time. He had watched her sneak out of bed. He had waited for her to realize she was trapped.

Katelyn forced her chin up, masking her terror with cold fury.

"Unlock the door," she demanded. "Holding me here against my will is a felony, even in international waters."

Etienne threw his head back and laughed.

It was a dark, chilling sound that made the hairs on Katelyn's arms stand up.

He took a slow sip of his whiskey and began walking toward her.

"A felony?" Etienne mocked softly. "Sweetheart, on the Shadow Trust, I am the law. You think you're dealing with some corporate billionaire? The Strickland board is just a pretty face. The Shadow Trust is the dark, bloodthirsty syndicate that actually runs the Asian underworld. And out here, I own the water, the air, and you."

Katelyn's breath hitched. Shadow Trust. The name meant absolutely nothing to her isolated world, but the chilling, absolute authority in his tone hit her brain like a physical blow. She only knew the name Strickland-the massive, untouchable corporate empire. But the way he said 'Shadow Trust' made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Etienne stopped inches in front of her.

He reached out, his rough thumb tracing the line of her jaw, forcing her to look up into his eyes.

His gaze was entirely black, filled with a terrifying, absolute possessiveness.

A cruel, beautiful smile curved his lips.

"The game is over," Etienne whispered, his voice dropping to a deadly register. "Kate Vance. Or whoever the hell you really are under all those pretty lies. This time, I'm going to strip you down to the bone and find out exactly what your real name is."

The sound of her real name falling from his lips shattered the last of her defenses.

She was completely, utterly trapped.