The morning sun sliced through the blinds, stabbing directly into Giana's eyes.

She groaned and tried to open them. A crushing ache radiated through every muscle in her body. It felt like her bones had been ground into powder.

She took a sharp breath, but the movement stretched her split lip. A sharp sting made her wince.

She turned her head.

Cornel sat in the single armchair in the corner of the room. His gray eyes were locked onto her.

Giana's heart skipped a beat. Her stomach dropped.

He wore dark gray dress pants. The first three buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone. He held a silver lighter in his hand. He flipped the metal lid open and closed.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

The sound echoed in the quiet room, heavy and threatening.

Giana remembered her past life. She remembered waking up, screaming, throwing things at him. She remembered how that had ended.

She swallowed the lump of panic in her throat. She forced herself to look him dead in the eye.

She didn't pull the comforter up to hide her chest. She pushed herself up into a sitting position. The blanket fell to her waist. The dark bruises on her collarbones were fully exposed to the cold air.

Cornel's thumb stopped on the lighter. His eyes narrowed.

Giana looked at the floor. Her evening gown was shredded into useless strips of fabric.

She threw the comforter off. She stepped onto the thick wool rug barefoot. She ignored the soreness between her thighs and walked straight to the foot of the bed. Cornel had left a spare white dress shirt draped over the bench.

Cornel didn't move. He watched the curve of her spine. He watched the way she walked. A dark, heavy possessiveness began to coil in his gut.

Giana pulled the oversized shirt over her shoulders. The cold silk sent a shiver down her spine. The hem fell just below her thighs.

She started buttoning the shirt, starting from the bottom. Her movements were slow and steady. She acted like she was completely alone in the room.

"You think you can walk out of here wearing my clothes?" Cornel's voice was a low rumble.

Giana's fingers paused on the third button. She took a slow breath, filling her lungs, and turned around. She forced the corners of her mouth up into a lazy smirk.

"Mr. Stark, we are both adults. It was just friends with benefits."

Cornel's face went completely hard.

He stood up. His massive frame blocked out the sunlight from the window. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

He closed the distance between them in three long strides.

Giana stepped back instinctively. Her shoulder blades hit the cold wall.

Cornel slammed his hand against the drywall right next to her ear. He leaned in. His chest almost brushed against hers.

"Friends with benefits?" He let out a harsh breath that hit her nose. "What exactly did you benefit from me? The right to wear my shirt and walk out of my life?"

Giana's pupils dilated. Her chest tightened. He was too close to the truth.

She forced a short laugh from her throat.

"I took one night from the most expensive man in New York. I'd say I made a profit." She tilted her chin up, refusing to break eye contact.

Cornel stared at her defiant eyes. His throat went dry. The memory of how she tasted last night hit him like a physical blow.

He dropped his hand from the wall and grabbed her waist. He yanked her forward. Her body crashed into his solid chest.

Giana gasped. She shoved her hands against his chest, trying to push him away. She could feel his heart hammering against her palms.

"If you made a profit, why don't we make another deal?" His voice was thick and raspy. His eyes dropped to her bruised lips.

Giana knew she was losing control of the situation. She jerked her head to the side, dodging his mouth. His lips brushed against her cheek instead.

"Sorry, Mr. Stark. I don't eat the same dish twice." She pushed hard against his shoulders.

Cornel's jaw clenched. The rejection hit his ego like a sledgehammer.

He grabbed her wrist. His fingers dug into her skin, cutting off her circulation.

He turned and dragged her toward the bathroom.

Giana stumbled over her own feet trying to keep up. The oversized shirt slipped off one shoulder.

Cornel kicked the bathroom door open with his heavy boot. The wood slammed against the wall with a deafening crack. He pulled her inside and shoved her backward. Her lower back hit the edge of the marble sink.

The freezing marble bit through the thin silk shirt, sending a violent shudder down Giana's spine. She gripped the edge of the sink with both hands and tried to push herself up.

Cornel stepped into her space. He forced his knee between her thighs, pinning her hips against the stone counter. She couldn't move an inch.

"Let me go, you psycho!" Giana yelled. Her calm facade shattered. She raised her right hand and swung it toward his face.

Cornel caught her wrist in mid-air. He twisted her arm behind her back and shoved her chest flush against his. A cruel smile touched his lips.

"Women who try to slap me in this city usually end up at the bottom of the river," he whispered against her ear. His breath was hot, but the words froze the blood in her veins.

The memory of his past cruelty flashed in her mind. Her body went completely rigid. She stopped fighting.

Cornel felt the strength leaving her body. A dark sense of satisfaction spread through his chest. He continued to press her arms behind her back and reached for her phone with his other hand.

Giana twisted her torso, trying to get away from his hand. It was useless.

He pulled out her cracked iPhone.

"Passcode," he demanded. He shoved the screen in front of her face.

Giana clamped her mouth shut and turned her head away.

Cornel scoffed. He grabbed her right hand, isolated her thumb, and pressed it hard against the home button.

The phone unlocked with a soft click.

He tapped the screen rapidly. A second later, a custom black phone sitting on the bathroom counter began to vibrate.

Cornel ended the call. He typed something into her phone and tossed it onto the sink next to her.

Giana looked down. The screen showed a new contact saved. The name read: Little Trouble.

Her stomach churned with disgust. "Little Trouble? You are Nauseous."

"Nauseous?" Cornel grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "You weren't calling me sick when you were begging under me last night."

Humiliation burned in Giana's chest. She opened her mouth and sank her teeth into the thick muscle of his hand, right between his thumb and index finger.

Cornel frowned, but he didn't pull his hand away. He stood perfectly still and let her bite him.

The taste of copper filled Giana's mouth. The fact that he wasn't fighting back terrified her more than his anger. She slowly opened her jaw and let go.

"Done?" Cornel looked down at the deep, bleeding teeth marks on his hand. His eyes were entirely black.

He ducked his head and crashed his mouth against hers. He tasted his own blood on her lips. He kissed her with a punishing, suffocating force.

Giana couldn't breathe. She pounded her fists against his shoulders, but hitting his solid muscle felt like punching a brick wall.

The temperature in the small bathroom spiked. Cornel slid his hand up the back of her thigh, gripping bare skin.

"No... I have to go..." Giana choked out against his mouth.

A single tear spilled over her eyelashes and dropped onto the back of his hand.

The warm drop of water hit Cornel's skin like acid. He froze. He pulled his mouth away and stared down at her red, watery eyes. His chest heaved. He fought the violent urge to throw her on the floor and take her again.

"Get out," he growled. He stepped back, dropping his hands to his sides.

Giana grabbed her phone. She didn't look back. She scrambled out of the bathroom and ran for the suite door.

The heavy door slammed shut.

Cornel stood alone in the bathroom. He looked at the bloody bite mark on his hand. He slowly lifted his hand to his mouth and licked the blood off his skin.

He walked out of the bathroom,He picked up his black phone from the counter and dialed a number.

"Dave," Cornel said, staring out the window at the Manhattan skyline. "A girl just left my room. Put eyes on her. Find out everything."

The November wind slashed across the Manhattan streets like a razor. Giana pulled the oversized coat tight around her chest and pushed through the glass doors of a 24-hour CVS pharmacy.

She walked straight past the makeup aisles. She ignored the cashier's stare. She stopped at the family planning section, grabbed a box of Plan B, and walked to the register.

She paid with a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. As soon as she stepped back onto the sidewalk, she ripped the cardboard box open. She popped the pill out of the foil, tossed it into her mouth, and swallowed it dry.

The pill scratched the back of her throat. She coughed, but a massive weight lifted off her chest. She was done with him.

Across the street, parked in the shadows, a black armored SUV sat idling.

Dave Ortiz lowered his camera lens. He pressed the button on his encrypted earpiece.

Inside the glass-walled boardroom at the top of Stark Tower, Cornel sat at the head of a massive oak table. A senior VP was sweating through a presentation on quarterly margins.

Cornel's phone vibrated against the wood.

He glanced at the screen. Dave.

Cornel held up one hand. The VP stopped talking instantly. Cornel answered the call.

"Boss," Dave's voice came through the speaker. "She went into a pharmacy. Bought Plan B. Swallowed it on the sidewalk."

Cornel's fingers tightened around his custom fountain pen. The metal casing snapped. The sharp edge sliced into his palm, and black ink bled all over the financial reports in front of him.

A violent, blinding rage ripped through his chest. It felt like someone had poured gasoline on his lungs and lit a match.

He stood up so fast his heavy leather chair screeched backward across the floor.

"Meeting canceled," he said.

The executives stared at him in terrified silence. Cornel walked out of the room without looking back.

Twenty minutes later, Cornel sat in the back of his Maybach. His stomach cramped. His jaw ached from grinding his teeth.

He ripped his tie off and threw it on the floorboard. "Take me to Nightingale," he told the driver.

Inside the VIP room of Manhattan's most exclusive club, the manager lined up five top-tier models.

Cornel sat on the leather sofa, holding a glass of whiskey. He stared at the women. They were beautiful. They meant absolutely nothing to him.

A blonde woman in a tight red dress stepped forward. A heavy wave of Chanel No. 5 hit Cornel's nose.

"Mr. Stark..." she purred. She reached out, placing her hand with long red nails onto his thigh.

The second her skin touched his pants, Cornel's stomach violently heaved. A wave of pure, physical nausea shot up his throat.

"Get off me!" he roared.

He swung his arm out, striking her shoulder. The woman flew backward, crashing into the glass coffee table. The table shattered. Whiskey and glass exploded across the floor. The other women screamed and backed against the wall.

Cornel clamped a hand over his mouth. He stumbled out of the room and kicked open the door to the private restroom.

He turned on the faucet and splashed freezing water onto his face. He gripped the edges of the sink, breathing hard. He looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot.

He couldn't stand the touch of another woman. His body was physically rejecting them. He was completely addicted to the girl who had just swallowed a pill to erase him.

He pulled his fist back and punched the mirror.

The glass spider-webbed outward. Blood dripped from his knuckles into the white porcelain sink.

The bathroom door opened. Dave walked in and stopped. He looked at the broken glass and the blood.

"Boss..." Dave held out a clean towel.

Cornel ignored the towel. He let his blood drip. His gray eyes were dead and focused.

"Did you get a name?" Cornel asked. His voice was terrifyingly calm.

"Yes. Giana Caldwell. The adopted daughter of the Caldwell family."

Cornel repeated the name in his head. A dark, twisted smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"Tell the team," Cornel said. "I am taking over every aspect of her life."