Carra pushed through the heavy glass doors of the club and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

The Los Angeles sky had broken open. A freezing, torrential downpour lashed against the pavement.

She ignored the rain. She pulled out her phone and opened a hotel booking app. She needed a room. She needed a bed where she could scream into a pillow.

She selected a cheap motel and hit pay.

Transaction Declined.

Carra frowned. She wiped the rain off her screen and tried again.

Card Frozen. Please contact your administrator.

Her breath caught. The credit card was a corporate card, issued by Vance's management team. The apartment they shared was leased under his LLC.

She was homeless. She had absolutely nothing.

The black Maybach glided to a stop right in front of her, its tires hissing on the wet asphalt.

The rear window rolled down.

"Get in the car, Carra," Jory ordered, his voice cutting through the sound of the rain. "Stop making a scene on the street."

Carra gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"I don't need your charity," she yelled over the storm. "I don't need another liar controlling my life!"

Jory's jaw tightened. He didn't argue.

He kicked his door open and stepped out into the pouring rain. He didn't bother with an umbrella.

He closed the distance between them in three massive strides. Before Carra could scream, he bent down, wrapped his arm around the back of her knees, and hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

"Put me down!" Carra shrieked, pounding her fists against his solid back.

Jory ignored her. He dumped her unceremoniously into the back seat of the Maybach and climbed in after her, slamming the door shut.

"Privacy screen," Jory snapped.

The soundproof glass partition between them and the driver immediately slid up.

Carra was shivering violently. Her thin dress was plastered to her skin.

Jory stripped off his wet suit jacket and threw it over her head. The heavy fabric smelled of him, warm and masculine.

The car sped through the city, diving into the underground parking garage of the most expensive skyscraper in Century City.

Jory dragged her out of the car and into a private elevator that required his fingerprint to operate.

The doors opened directly into a massive penthouse. The walls were all floor-to-ceiling glass, overlooking the glittering, rain-swept city. The furniture was cold, sharp, and minimalist. It looked like a museum, not a home.

A terrified housekeeper rushed out.

"Run a hot bath. Now," Jory ordered, loosening his tie and ripping it from his neck.

Carra threw his wet jacket onto a white leather sofa.

"Who do you think you are?" Carra screamed, the anger finally boiling over. "You think because you have money you can just kidnap people?"

Jory walked over to a crystal decanter and poured two glasses of whiskey.

"You couldn't even afford a cab," Jory mocked, his voice lethal. "Your freedom is currently worth zero dollars."

Carra saw red.

"You're exactly like him!" she yelled, marching right up to him. She poked her index finger hard into the center of his chest. "You're just a capitalist pig who uses women as chess pieces to fix your stock prices!"

Jory's eyes went completely black. The air in the room suddenly felt too thin to breathe.

He dropped his glass. It shattered on the hardwood floor.

He grabbed her wrist, twisting it behind her back, and slammed her against the freezing glass of the floor-to-ceiling window.

Carra gasped, her chest heaving against his.

Outside, the storm raged. Inside, the silence was deafening.

Jory lowered his head. He didn't ask for permission. He crashed his mouth down onto hers.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a punishment. It was raw, aggressive, and entirely consuming.

Carra fought him. She thrashed against his grip, twisting her head. Her teeth clashed against his, and she bit down hard on his lower lip.

The metallic taste of blood flooded their mouths.

Instead of pulling away, Jory groaned. The pain seemed to ignite something feral inside him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue invading her mouth, tasting his own blood.

The fight drained out of Carra, replaced by a chaotic storm of conflicting emotions. She hated him. She hated all these powerful, arrogant men who thought they could play God with her life. But his overwhelming dominance, the absolute certainty in his punishing grip, violently clashed with the shattered pieces of her reality. The sheer intensity of his anger was a stark contrast to Vance's pathetic cowardice.

The alcohol, the betrayal, and the sheer exhaustion of the night crashed down on her. She was drowning in the agony of the last few hours, and she desperately needed something-anything-to overwrite the suffocating pain of being thrown away. A darker, more consuming fire to burn away the memories.

She let go of her pride. She grabbed the lapels of his wet shirt and pulled him closer.

Jory didn't hesitate. He swept her off her feet, carrying her down the hallway.

He kicked the master bedroom door open with his foot and threw her onto the massive king-sized bed.

He followed her down, his large hands gripping the thin silk of her ruined dress. With one violent tug, the fabric tore.

Thunder shook the glass windows of the penthouse, drowning out the sound of logic breaking apart.

Carra closed her eyes, digging her nails into his back, and let herself drown in the wreckage.

The harsh California sun sliced through the gap in the blackout curtains, hitting Carra directly in the eyes.

She gasped and sat up, clutching the heavy duvet to her chest.

Her entire body ached. Her muscles felt bruised. She looked down at the floor. Her torn dress, Jory's ruined shirt, and his expensive belt were scattered across the rug.

The memories of last night slammed into her brain like a freight train.

She slowly turned her head.

Jory Elliott was asleep beside her. He was lying on his stomach, the sheets tangled around his waist. Deep, angry red scratch marks tracked down his muscular back. Her scratch marks.

Panic seized her throat. She couldn't breathe.

She had slept with the CEO of the EK Group. The man who owned her agency. The man who had proposed a fake marriage to cover up her ex-boyfriend's affair.

Carra slid to the edge of the bed, trying to make absolutely no sound. She put one foot on the floor.

A massive, heavy arm shot out from under the covers. It wrapped around her waist and violently yanked her backward.

Carra shrieked as her back hit the mattress.

Jory didn't open his eyes. He buried his face in the crook of her neck. His voice was thick with sleep and gravel.

"Your stamina was a lot better last night," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin.

Carra's face burned hot enough to melt steel. She shoved at his chest, prying his heavy arm off her body.

She scrambled off the bed and grabbed the first thing she saw-one of his oversized white button-down shirts. She pulled it on, her hands shaking as she fumbled with the buttons.

"Last night was a mistake," Carra stammered, backing away toward the door. "We were angry. We were drunk. It didn't happen."

Jory finally opened his eyes. They were sharp, alert, and terrifyingly cold.

"Are you trying to hit and run, Carra?" he asked, a cruel smirk playing on his bruised lips.

Carra didn't answer. She turned and bolted into the master bathroom.

She stared at herself in the mirror. There were dark purple bruises blooming along her collarbone. She turned the water on freezing cold, splashed her face, and threw on her clothes from the dryer.

When she heard Jory's phone ring in the bedroom, she took her chance. She slipped out the front door and ran to the elevator.

She ordered an Uber. By the time she checked her phone, she was two hours late for work.

Carra walked through the glass doors of the EK Entertainment Agency in Beverly Hills. Her stomach was tied in knots.

She walked into the open-plan office.

Lisa Finch, a newly signed model who thought she owned the building, was sitting on Carra's desk.

Lisa swung her long legs, holding a plastic cup of iced coffee. When she saw Carra, she smiled maliciously.

Lisa casually tipped the cup. The brown liquid spilled directly onto Carra's open PR files, ruining weeks of work.

"Oops," Lisa said loudly. "Sorry, Carra. I guess you're just having a really bad week. Dumped by Vance, and now you can't even show up to work on time. Pathetic."

The typing in the office stopped. Every head turned to watch the show.

Carra walked over to her desk. She grabbed a wad of paper towels and started dabbing at the ruined ink.

"Get off my desk, Lisa," Carra said, her voice dangerously low.

Lisa laughed. She hopped off the desk and stepped into Carra's personal space.

"Don't use that tone with me," Lisa sneered. "Everyone knows you only got this job by spreading your legs for Vance. Now that he tossed you in the trash, you're nothing."

Lisa's eyes darted to Carra's neck. She reached out and yanked the collar of Carra's shirt down.

"Wow," Lisa gasped dramatically, pointing at the purple bruises. "Look at this! Did you go sell yourself on the street last night to pay rent?"

A few people in the office snickered.

Carra's vision went red. She had taken enough abuse for one lifetime.

She dropped the wet paper towels. She planted her feet, twisted her hips, and swung her hand.

Smack.

Carra slapped Lisa Finch so hard the model spun around and crashed into the filing cabinet.

The entire office went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop.

Lisa held her blistering red cheek. Her eyes were wide with shock.

"Keep your mouth shut," Carra warned, stepping closer. "Or I'll call your sugar daddy's wife and tell her exactly which hotel you were at last Tuesday."

Lisa screamed like a banshee. She grabbed a heavy metal stapler off the desk and hurled it directly at Carra's head.

Carra ducked. The stapler flew past her and smashed into the glass partition behind her. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces with a deafening crash.

"Carra Roach!"

Kloe, the head of the PR department, stormed out of her glass office. Her face was purple with rage.

Kloe looked at the broken glass, the crying model, and Carra.

"Pack your things," Kloe screamed. "You are suspended immediately for physically assaulting a premium talent!"

"I want her fired!" Lisa shrieked, pointing a manicured finger at Carra. "I want her blacklisted from every agency in this city!"

Kloe marched over, holding a termination notice. She shoved it toward Carra.

"Hand over your ID badge, Carra," Kloe demanded. "And you will apologize to Lisa right now, in front of everyone."

Lisa hid behind Kloe's shoulder. She looked at Carra and mouthed the words, You are dead.

Carra stood her ground. She reached up, unclipped her plastic ID badge from her lanyard, and slammed it onto Kloe's chest.

"I'm not apologizing to anyone," Carra said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline shaking her bones.

Lisa pulled out her phone. She dialed a number and put it on speaker.

"Daddy," Lisa whined into the phone, her voice dripping with fake tears. "My publicist just hit me. She's crazy!"

A gruff, older man's voice boomed through the speaker. "Who? Give me her name. I'll make sure she never works in Hollywood again. I'll ruin her!"

Carra closed her eyes. She picked up her purse. She was done. She was going to walk out of this toxic building and never look back.

Ding.

The sound of the private VIP elevator arriving echoed through the silent office.

The polished steel doors slid open.

Four massive men in identical black suits stepped out first. They moved with military precision, instantly fanning out and securing the hallway.

Then, the temperature in the room plummeted.

Jory Elliott stepped out of the elevator. He was wearing a flawless, charcoal-gray bespoke suit. His face was a mask of absolute, terrifying authority.

Kloe gasped. The termination notice slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the floor. She recognized the CEO of the entire EK Group immediately.

Lisa Finch, however, was too stupid to know who he was. She saw a handsome, powerful man and immediately puffed out her chest.

Lisa strutted forward, swaying her hips.

"Excuse me," Lisa purred, trying to touch Jory's arm. "Security is terrible here. They just let anyone wander in while I'm being attacked."

Jory didn't even blink at her. He didn't acknowledge her existence.

His dark, predatory eyes scanned the room and locked onto Carra.

He bypassed Lisa completely, his long legs eating up the distance until he was standing right in front of Carra.

The entire office held its breath.

Jory reached out. His large, warm hand brushed against Carra's cheek, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

It was an incredibly intimate, possessive gesture.

Lisa's jaw dropped. Kloe looked like she was going to pass out.

"Why did you run away this morning?" Jory asked. His voice was low, but in the dead silence of the office, everyone heard it. "I woke up to an empty bed."

Carra's face burned. She tried to take a step back to put distance between them.

Jory didn't let her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his hard body, locking her in place.

He turned his head slowly, looking at Kloe.

"Who," Jory said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper, "is suspending Carra?"

Kloe's knees literally buckled. She grabbed a desk to keep from falling.

"Mr. Elliott," Kloe stammered, sweating profusely. "She... she assaulted Lisa. Lisa is a priority talent."

Jory let out a dark chuckle. He turned his dead eyes onto Lisa.

Lisa shrank back, suddenly realizing she had made a fatal error.

Jory didn't speak to her. He tilted his head slightly toward his assistant, who was standing behind him with a tablet.

"Find out who is on the other end of that phone call," Jory ordered, pointing at Lisa's phone. "By tomorrow's opening bell, I want negative risk assessments on all his shell companies on my desk. Notify our partner banks to freeze his credit extensions immediately. Let him bleed."

"Yes, sir," the assistant said, tapping furiously on the screen.

"You're bluffing!" Lisa screamed, her voice cracking with panic.

Two minutes later, Lisa's phone rang. It was her sugar daddy.

She answered it on speaker.

"You stupid bitch!" the man screamed hysterically. "What did you do? The EK Group's legal team just flagged my accounts and my main lender is pulling out! I'm ruined! Don't ever call me again!"

The line went dead.

Lisa dropped her phone. It shattered on the floor. She collapsed to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

Jory looked around the terrified office.

"Carra Roach no longer works here," Jory announced.

He shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over Carra's shoulders, hiding the bruises on her neck from their prying eyes.

He kept his arm tightly around her waist and guided her toward the VIP elevator.

"Mr. Elliott, please!" Kloe begged from behind them.

The bodyguards blocked her path.

Jory and Carra stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut, cutting off the chaos.

Carra ripped the jacket off her shoulders and shoved him in the chest.

"Are you out of your mind?" Carra yelled. "You just painted a target on my back for the rest of my life!"