The Maybach descended into the private, underground parking garage of the Tribeca penthouse.

The heavy car doors opened. A blast of cold, subterranean air hit Falon's bare skin. She shivered violently.

Bell did not wait for the driver. He stepped out of the car and pulled Falon into his arms. He lifted her effortlessly.

Falon's arms immediately wrapped around his neck. She buried her face into the crook of his neck. Her hot breath fanned across his pulse point.

Bell carried her to the private elevator. He pressed his thumb against the biometric scanner. The doors slid open.

The elevator shot up to the top floor.

The doors parted, revealing a massive, minimalist penthouse. The interior was a stark contrast of cold black marble, gray steel, and white leather. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a dizzying view of the city below.

Bell walked into the living room. He lowered Falon onto a wide, Italian leather sofa.

He stepped back, intending to go to the kitchen to get her a glass of ice water.

Falon's hand shot out. She grabbed his silk tie. She held on with a desperate, white-knuckled grip.

The sudden pull forced Bell to stop. He dropped down onto one knee at the edge of the sofa. He planted his hands on either side of her head to keep from crushing her.

The fire in Falon's blood was consuming her organs. She needed his skin.

She reached up with trembling fingers. She grabbed the top of his dress shirt. She pulled hard, popping the top two buttons.

Her fingertips brushed against the hard, warm muscle of his chest.

Bell's breathing hitched. His chest expanded rapidly.

He grabbed both of her wrists in one hand. He pinned them to her chest. His eyes darkened, turning into black holes that swallowed all the light in the room.

"If we cross this line, there is no going back," Bell warned. His voice was a low, vibrating threat.

Falon did not hear the warning. Her mind was filled with the echoing sound of Jerod's voice on the phone. Do whatever you want with her. I am done.

The absolute devastation of that betrayal mixed with the chemical fire in her veins. She wanted to erase Jerod. She wanted to feel something else. Anything else.

She looked straight into Bell's eyes.

"Save me," Falon whispered. Her voice broke on a sob.

She lifted her chin and pressed her lips against his throat, right over his Adam's apple.

That single touch destroyed the last thread of Bell's control.

He let out a deep, guttural growl. He released her wrists and grabbed her jaw.

He brought his mouth down on hers.

It was not a gentle kiss. It was a violent collision. It was a punishment and a claim. He forced her lips apart and invaded her mouth, taking all her oxygen.

Falon whimpered into his mouth. Her hands flew to his shoulders. Her nails dug into the expensive fabric of his shirt. She arched her back, pressing her body flush against his.

Bell scooped her up into his arms again. He carried her down the dark hallway.

He kicked open the heavy oak door of the master bedroom.

He threw her onto the center of the massive king-sized bed.

Falon bounced against the soft mattress. She sank into the black velvet duvet. Her wet hair spread out like a dark halo. The ruined designer gown hung off one shoulder. She looked shattered and beautiful.

Bell stood at the edge of the bed. He stripped off his suit jacket and threw it onto the floor. He ripped the silk tie from his neck and wrapped it tightly around his right wrist.

He stared down at her. His chest heaved. He looked like a god demanding a sacrifice.

He climbed onto the bed. He pushed her knees apart with his own.

His rough fingertips traced the curve of her waist. The touch sent a violent shock of electricity through her nervous system.

Falon gasped. She arched her spine off the mattress. Her hands blindly grabbed at his broad back, seeking purchase.

Suddenly, the sharp, shrill sound of the penthouse doorbell echoed through the apartment.

The video intercom on the nightstand lit up. Thaddeus's panicked voice filled the room.

"Bell! I have the counteragent. Open up!"

The noise pierced through the thick fog in Falon's brain. For one split second, reality crashed in. She flinched. Her eyes widened in sudden panic.

Bell felt her body tense. He saw the fear flash in her eyes.

A surge of irrational, possessive rage flared in his chest.

He slammed his hand down on the intercom's mute button. The room plunged back into silence.

He leaned down and bit the sensitive skin of her collarbone. Hard.

He left a dark, red mark on her pale skin. A brand.

Falon cried out from the sharp pain, but the pain instantly morphed into a hollow, aching need. She thrust her hips upward, chasing his weight.

Out in the hallway, the front door beeped. Thaddeus had used his emergency medical override code. The heavy door clicked open.

Bell froze.

He grabbed the thick black silk sheet and pulled it up, covering Falon completely up to her neck. He tucked the edges under her body, hiding every inch of her skin.

He stood up from the bed. His shirt was completely unbuttoned, revealing his sculpted torso. His hair was a mess.

He walked out of the bedroom and pulled the door shut behind him.

Thaddeus rushed into the living room, carrying a silver medical case. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Bell.

The doctor's eyes darted from Bell's unbuttoned shirt to the red scratch marks on his neck. He smelled the heavy, unmistakable scent of arousal in the air.

Thaddeus looked at the closed bedroom door. His jaw dropped.

"Leave the case," Bell ordered. His voice was deadly calm.

"Bell, are you insane?" Thaddeus hissed. "Whoever is in there, she has black market narcotics in her system. This is a massive liability."

Bell walked forward. He snatched the silver case out of Thaddeus's hand.

He grabbed his friend by the shoulder, spun him around, and shoved him toward the front door.

"Get out," Bell said.

He pushed Thaddeus into the hallway and slammed the door shut. The lock engaged with a heavy clunk.

Bell turned around. He walked slowly back to the master bedroom. His eyes burned with a dark, obsessive fire.

Bell pushed the bedroom door open.

The only light came from the dim amber glow of the wall sconces. Falon was thrashing under the black silk sheet. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She was losing the battle against the drug.

Bell tossed the silver medical case onto a leather armchair in the corner of the room. It landed with a heavy thud.

He was not going to use the counteragent. He was going to be the cure.

He walked to the edge of the bed. He placed one knee on the mattress. The bed dipped under his weight.

Falon felt the movement. She rolled toward him instinctively.

Her slender arms reached out from under the covers. She wrapped them around his waist. She pressed her hot, flushed cheek against the cold metal of his belt buckle. She let out a long, desperate sigh.

That sound shattered the last wall of Bell's restraint.

He let out a low growl. He grabbed the black silk sheet and ripped it away, throwing it onto the floor.

He grabbed both of her wrists with his large hands. He pulled her arms up and pinned them flat against the mattress above her head.

Falon's chest arched upward. The drug made her skin hypersensitive. The cool air of the room felt like ice, but his hands felt like branding irons.

Tears of sheer physical frustration leaked from the corners of her eyes.

Bell leaned down. He brushed his lips against her cheek, catching a salty tear.

His touch was surprisingly gentle, but his voice was a dark, dangerous whisper.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Bell asked.

Falon squeezed her eyes shut. Jerod's voice echoed in her skull again. Do whatever you want with her.

Her heart cramped with a sickening pain. She opened her eyes. She looked at the man hovering over her. She did not know him, but right now, he was her only anchor.

She clenched her jaw and nodded. Once. Hard.

Bell did not hold back anymore.

He lowered his head. His mouth traced a burning path down her jawline, down her neck, to the hollow of her throat. Everywhere his lips touched, a fire ignited beneath her skin.

Falon felt her old life peeling away. The perfect, obedient fiancée died in that warehouse. The woman on this bed was someone else.

She twisted her wrists, breaking free from his grip.

She reached up and grabbed his face with both hands. She pulled his mouth down to hers. She kissed him with a violent, reckless desperation. It was a kiss meant to destroy.

Bell responded with equal ferocity. He grabbed the ruined fabric of her gown and tore it down the middle. The expensive silk ripped with a loud, satisfying sound.

There was nothing left between them.

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the dark bedroom. A second later, a massive crack of thunder shook the windows.

In that exact moment, Bell pushed forward, burying himself inside her.

Falon let out a sharp, breathless scream. Her fingernails dug deep into the muscles of his back. She dragged her nails downward, leaving four bloody scratches across his skin.

The pain was sharp, tearing through her body, but it was instantly swallowed by a massive wave of heat.

Bell froze. He rested his forehead against hers. His chest heaved, his hot breath hitting her face. He held himself perfectly still, giving her body time to adjust to the invasion.

Falon was panting. Sweat dripped down her neck. She looked up into his eyes. They were pitch black, filled with a terrifying, absolute power. It was a dominance she had never felt with Jerod.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. She tilted her hips upward, taking him deeper.

"Do not stop," Falon whispered. Her voice was raw and broken.

The command broke the invisible chain holding him back.

Bell began to move. His thrusts were hard, relentless, and punishing. The heavy wooden bed frame groaned against the wall with every impact.

The only sounds in the room were the harsh slaps of skin against skin and their ragged breathing.

Falon felt like she was being ripped apart and put back together. Every time he drove into her, the memories of Jerod fractured. The fake smiles, the cold dismissals, the betrayal-they were all pulverized under the weight of Bell's body.

She was a small boat caught in a violent hurricane, and Bell was the only thing keeping her from drowning.

The tension in her lower stomach coiled tighter and tighter. It became unbearable.

Suddenly, the coil snapped.

A blinding white light exploded behind her eyes. Her entire body locked up in a violent spasm. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed through her.

A second later, Bell let out a deep, animalistic roar. He drove into her one last time and emptied himself inside her.

He collapsed on top of her, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

Their chests heaved together. Their skin was slick with sweat.

Falon turned her head to the side. She gasped for air. Her face was flushed crimson.

Bell rolled off her, but he did not let her go. He pulled her flush against his side. He wrapped a heavy arm around her waist and tucked her head against his chest.

Falon listened to the steady, powerful thud of his heart.

The drug was finally burning out of her system. A crushing wave of exhaustion hit her. Her eyelids felt like they were made of lead.

Just before the darkness took her, she felt a soft, warm pressure against her forehead. A kiss. It felt incredibly tender. It felt like a promise.

Bell lay awake in the dark. He stared at the ceiling.

He gently brushed a damp strand of hair away from Falon's sleeping face. His eyes softened, revealing a deep, obsessive love that he had hidden for years.

He carefully reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his phone.

He opened an encrypted messaging app. He typed a quick command to his head of security.

Wipe all surveillance footage in the Brooklyn warehouse district for the last three hours. Erase her trail. Find the man with the bleeding leg. Make him disappear permanently.

He hit send. He put the phone down and pulled Falon closer to his chest. She was finally his.

The bright midday sun pierced through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It hit Falon directly in the eyes.

She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. Her head pounded with a vicious, throbbing ache, like a massive hangover. Her entire body felt bruised and sore.

She opened her eyes slowly.

She was lying in a massive bed with black sheets. She was alone.

The air in the room smelled like expensive cedar cologne and the heavy, musky scent of sex.

The memories of last night crashed into her brain like a freight train. The warehouse. Jerod's voice. The needle. The rain. The car. The violent, desperate things she had done in this bed.

Falon sat up abruptly. The sheet fell away from her chest.

She looked down at her skin. Her collarbone, her breasts, her stomach-they were covered in dark purple bruises and red fingerprints.

She sucked in a sharp breath. The physical evidence of her complete loss of control made her stomach churn.

She had to get out of here.

She swung her bare feet over the edge of the bed. They sank into the thick wool rug. She stood up, her legs trembling slightly, and walked into the attached master bathroom.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess. Her makeup was smeared down her cheeks. She looked like a ghost.

She turned on the shower. She stood under the freezing cold water for ten minutes. She scrubbed her skin until it was bright red. She tried to wash away the smell of the stranger. She tried to wash away the lingering humiliation of Jerod leaving her to die.

When she stepped out of the shower, she walked back into the bedroom.

Her ruined Oscar de la Renta gown was gone. It was stuffed into a trash can in the corner.

Sitting neatly at the foot of the bed was a crisp, white men's dress shirt.

Falon had no other choice. She picked it up and put it on. She buttoned it up to her collarbone. The hem barely reached the middle of her thighs.

She took a deep breath, lifted her chin, and walked barefoot out of the bedroom.

The living room was flooded with sunlight.

A man stood at the kitchen island. He wore tailored dark gray trousers and a black dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing thick, muscular forearms. He was pouring hot water over a coffee filter.

His back was to her, but his posture radiated cold, arrogant authority.

He heard her footsteps. He turned around.

Bell Farrell's dark eyes locked onto her. He slowly dragged his gaze from her wet hair, down the oversized shirt, to her bare legs. A dark, dangerous heat flared in his pupils.

Falon felt a sudden spike of anxiety. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to pull the shirt down lower.

She walked to the opposite side of the marble island.

She saw a new, unopened black leather clutch sitting on the counter. Beside it lay a checkbook and a Montblanc pen, identical to her own brands. She opened the clutch purse. She pulled out the checkbook and the Montblanc pen.

Bell stopped pouring the coffee. He set the kettle down. He crossed his arms and watched her. He looked amused, like he was watching a kitten try to roar.

Falon quickly wrote down a number, her hand stinging as the pen pressed against the bruised, half-healed skin of her palm. She signed her name with a sharp flick of her wrist.

She ripped the check out and slid it across the smooth marble counter.

"One hundred thousand dollars," Falon said. Her voice was cold and professional. "That should cover the damage to your suit, the ride, and your services last night."

Bell stared at the piece of paper.

A low, dark laugh rumbled in his chest.

He reached out with his long fingers. He picked up the check.

He looked Falon dead in the eyes and ripped the check in half.

Falon's eyes widened.

He let the pieces flutter down onto the black marble counter.

Bell placed his hands flat on the island. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. His physical presence was suffocating.

"Everyone on Wall Street knows that the one thing Bell Farrell does not need is money," he said softly.

Falon stopped breathing.

Bell Farrell.

The name hit her like a physical blow. Bell Farrell was the ruthless CEO of Farrell Enterprises. He was Jerod's biggest rival. He was the man Jerod hated and feared more than anyone else in the world.

She took a step back. Her spine hit the cold stainless steel of the refrigerator.

"What do you want?" Falon asked. Her voice shook.

Bell walked around the island. He moved with the silent grace of a predator.

He stepped into her personal space. He placed one hand on the fridge beside her head, trapping her.

He leaned down. His warm breath brushed against her ear.

"Since you cannot pay with money," Bell whispered, his tone dripping with dark promise, "you will just have to keep paying me with your body."

A hot wave of humiliation and rage exploded in Falon's chest.

She raised her hand and swung it hard, aiming for his arrogant face.

Bell did not even flinch. He caught her wrist in mid-air.

He twisted her arm smoothly behind her back. He pulled her forward until her chest crashed against his hard torso.

He lowered his head and bit down gently on her earlobe.

"Do not play the innocent victim with me," Bell murmured against her skin. "You were not acting so pure when you were begging me to ruin you last night."

The words were a brutal, precise strike to her pride.

Falon's eyes filled with hot tears. Her body began to tremble.

Bell felt her shaking. He saw the tears pooling in her eyes.

A flash of regret crossed his dark features. He had pushed too hard.

He immediately released her arm and stepped back. His face returned to a cold, unreadable mask.

He walked over to the leather sofa. He picked up a sleek black shopping bag and tossed it onto the glass coffee table.

"Get dressed and get out," Bell ordered. He turned his back to her.

Falon clenched her jaw. She grabbed the bag, spun around, and ran into the guest bedroom. She slammed the door shut behind her.

She leaned against the wood, gasping for air.

In the living room, Bell stood frozen. He raised his hand and violently yanked his collar open. His chest heaved. He stared at his hand, the one that had held her, and clenched it into a fist, angry at himself for the cruel words he'd used to try and chain her to him. His eyes were dark with a violent, consuming obsession.