The heavy doors of the Viper Room opened again.

Every man in the room turned to look.

Alaina stood in the doorway. Her black lace bodysuit was soaked with filthy alley water. Mud dripped from her bare legs, and blood trickled from her scraped palms.

Tucker wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Get out! You smell like garbage!"

Alaina did not look at him. Her dead, hollow eyes were locked entirely on Hardin.

She walked forward. Her high heels clicked against the floor, leaving muddy footprints on the pristine carpet.

She stopped right in front of the glass table.

Without a single word, Alaina bent her legs and dropped heavily to her knees.

Her bare knees slammed directly onto the sharp shards of a broken glass that had fallen earlier.

The sharp glass sliced deep into her skin. Dark red blood instantly welled up and soaked into the carpet.

Alaina did not flinch. She did not even blink.

Tucker and Hicks froze. The room went completely silent.

Alaina tilted her head up to look at Hardin. Her voice was a dry, raspy whisper.

"I will sign it."

Hardin's hand tightened around his whiskey glass. His knuckles turned bone-white. For a fraction of a second, a flash of raw, agonizing pain tore through his eyes as he looked at her bleeding knees.

But he buried it instantly. His face hardened into a mask of pure cruelty.

He let out a short, dark laugh. "Now? You are too late."

Hardin leaned forward. He reached out and pinched her muddy chin between his fingers.

"The fifty million bridge loan is gone. I pulled it an hour ago. Your family is officially dead."

Alaina's pupils dilated in pure horror. She reached out with her bloody hands and grabbed the edge of his suit jacket.

"Please," she begged, her voice breaking. "They are going to cut off Ashton's hand. You have to save him."

Hardin looked down at her bloody hands staining his expensive wool jacket. He slapped her hands away.

He reached into his inner pocket. He pulled out a small, stiff piece of paper with the logo of a Swiss bank.

He held it between his index and middle finger. He let it drop.

The paper fluttered down and landed directly on Alaina's wet, muddy face before sliding off onto the floor.

It was a cashier's check. A bearer check. The amount printed on it was ten million dollars.

"This is the price for your body tonight," Hardin said, his voice devoid of all humanity. "As for your brother's hands, that depends entirely on how well you perform."

Tucker sucked in a sharp breath. Ten million dollars for one night. Hardin was treating her like the most expensive whore on the planet.

Alaina stared at the check on the floor. Her soul was being crushed into dust.

She closed her eyes. A single tear fell. She reached her trembling hand out to pick up the paper.

Just as her fingertips brushed the edge of the check, Hardin's foot came down.

His heavy leather shoe stepped directly onto the check, pinning her fingers to the floor.

He pressed down. The hard leather crushed her delicate bones. A sharp, blinding pain shot up her arm.

Hardin looked down at her from his throne. "Use your mouth."

The air in the room vanished. The humiliation was so extreme it felt like a physical weight crushing her skull.

Alaina's body shook violently. Her stomach heaved.

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. A spark of wild, desperate fury ignited in her dead eyes.

She yanked her hand back, ignoring the pain in her fingers.

She grabbed the half-full glass of whiskey from the table and threw the liquid directly into Hardin's face.

The amber liquid splashed across his eyes and dripped down his sharp jawline.

Before anyone could react, Alaina snatched the check from under his shoe, scrambled to her feet, and ran out of the room.

Hardin did not wipe his face. He sat perfectly still, letting the alcohol drip onto his shirt.

Slowly, the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a dark, obsessive smile.

Alaina curled her body into a tight ball in the back seat of the bulletproof Maybach.

Her fist was clenched so tightly around the ten-million-dollar cashier's check that the paper was soaked with her sweat and blood.

Outside the tinted windows, the rain was coming down in sheets. The windshield wipers slashed back and forth violently.

The glass partition separating her from the driver was up. The car sped down the Montauk Highway, heading straight for the eastern end of Long Island.

Two hours later, the massive black iron gates of the Hamptons estate loomed in the darkness.

The gates swung open. The Maybach drove up the long, tree-lined driveway.

This was her home. This was the Gay family's sanctuary. Now, a heavy bronze plaque with the Dyer family crest hung on the stone pillars.

The car stopped in front of the main house.

Mrs. Reynolds, the head housekeeper who had served Alaina's family for twenty years, stood on the porch holding a large black umbrella.

Alaina stepped out of the car. The freezing ocean wind whipped her wet hair across her face. She shivered violently.

Mrs. Reynolds looked at Alaina's muddy, torn lace bodysuit. There was no warmth in the older woman's eyes, only cold judgment.

"Miss Gay," Mrs. Reynolds said, her tone strictly professional. "Mr. Dyer instructed you to go to the master bedroom and wash up."

The words "master bedroom" hit Alaina like a physical punch to the gut. That was her parents' room.

She walked into the grand foyer like a ghost. The walls were bare. All the historic portraits of her ancestors had been stripped away.

She forced her bleeding feet to climb the grand sweeping staircase. Every step felt like she was trampling on her own grave.

She pushed open the heavy double doors of the master bedroom.

A massive king-size bed sat in the center of the room. The bright, floral sheets her mother loved had been replaced with dark, charcoal-black silk.

Alaina walked into the attached marble bathroom. She peeled off the filthy lace bodysuit and stepped into the shower.

She turned the water on as hot as it would go. The scalding water burned her cold skin. She scrubbed her arms and her bleeding knees until her skin was raw and bright red, trying to wash away the filth of the alley and the club.

When she stepped out, she found a single piece of clothing resting on the marble counter.

It was a sheer, translucent black silk robe. There was no underwear.

Alaina's stomach cramped with anxiety. She put the thin robe on, tying the sash tightly around her waist.

She walked out into the bedroom barefoot and stood by the massive window, staring out at the black, churning ocean.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. The brass doorknob clicked.

Hardin walked in. He smelled of rain and expensive cologne. He casually ripped his tie off and threw it onto a velvet chair.

He walked over to the crystal bar cart and poured himself a drink. His dark eyes locked onto Alaina's fragile back, tracing the curve of her spine visible through the wet silk.

Alaina heard the clink of ice. Her shoulders jerked. She turned around slowly, her back pressing against the cold glass of the window.

Hardin walked toward her. His eyes were dark, hungry, and completely unapologetic.

He reached his hand out, aiming for a wet strand of hair plastered to her cheek.

Alaina flinched violently. She turned her head away, her eyes filled with pure, unadulterated terror and disgust.

Hardin's hand stopped in mid-air.

The temperature in the room dropped instantly. His eyes turned to absolute ice.

He lunged forward and grabbed her jaw, his fingers digging into her cheeks.

"What is this?" Hardin hissed, his voice vibrating with rage. "You took the ten million dollars, but you still want to play the untouchable princess?"

Alaina was forced onto her tiptoes. Her voice shook, but her eyes were defiant. "We made a transaction. Just get it over with. Do not touch me like you care."

Hardin's eyes flared with a violent, destructive fire.

He let go of her jaw. He turned and hurled his crystal whiskey glass against the stone fireplace.

The glass shattered into a thousand pieces with a deafening crash.

Before Alaina could scream, Hardin grabbed her by the waist, threw her over his broad shoulder, and marched toward the dark bed.

Alaina beat her fists against his solid back, screaming in terror, but it was like hitting a brick wall.