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!"

The Maybach rolled smoothly through the streets of Beverly Hills.

The air inside the car was thick with tension. Carra sat as far away from Jory as possible, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"You had no right to do that," Carra seethed, glaring at the tinted window. "You treated me like a piece of property in front of my entire office."

Jory leaned back against the leather seat. He adjusted his Patek Philippe watch, completely unbothered.

"I slept with you," Jory stated, his voice flat. "That makes you mine to protect. I don't let my things get broken by trash."

Carra's mouth fell open. "Your things?"

Before she could scream at him, her phone erupted. It started vibrating violently against her thigh, pinging with dozens of notifications a second.

Carra pulled it out. Her screen was flooded with alerts from Twitter, TMZ, and Page Six.

She tapped the top notification.

A massive, high-definition photo filled her screen. It was her, wearing the soaking wet silk dress, being carried into the Century City parking garage by Jory Elliott.

The headline screamed in bold red letters: EK GROUP CEO'S MYSTERY LOVER! VANCE STERLING'S PR GIRLFRIEND TAKEN AWAY BY BILLIONAIRE BOSS!

Carra's blood ran cold. The PR nightmare was real. She was going to be branded as a gold-digger who cheated on Vance with his boss.

She frantically opened the Twitter app. She started typing a statement on her verified account, trying to explain that the photo was taken out of context.

A large hand reached across the seat and snatched the phone right out of her grip.

"Hey!" Carra yelled, lunging for it.

Jory held the phone out of her reach. His thumb quickly swiped across the screen, deleting her draft entirely. He locked the phone and tossed it onto the empty seat next to him.

"What are you doing?" Carra demanded, grabbing his forearm.

Jory easily pinned her wrists together with one hand, pushing her back against the seat.

"I am letting the fire burn," Jory said coldly. "This scandal perfectly covers up Vance's affair. The media is looking at us, not him. The stock price will stabilize."

Carra stared at him in horror.

"You leaked the photos," she whispered, the realization making her physically sick. "You planned this. You used me as a human shield for your company."

Jory didn't confirm or deny it. He just stared at her with those dead, calculating eyes.

"You're a monster," Carra choked out, tears of absolute frustration finally spilling over her lashes.

Suddenly, the phone on the seat started ringing.

It wasn't a notification ping. It was a phone call from an unknown, blocked number.

Jory released her wrists. Carra snatched the phone up and hit accept, needing a distraction from the man sitting next to her.

"Hello?" she snapped.

There was no greeting. Instead, a blood-curdling scream tore through the speaker.

"Carra! Help me! Oh God, please!"

It was Shane. Her younger half-brother.

Carra's heart stopped beating. "Shane? Shane, where are you?"

A rough, gravelly voice with a heavy Mexican accent took over the line.

"Is this the sister?" the man asked.

"Yes! Who is this? What have you done to him?" Carra screamed, her fingers digging into the phone case.

"Your brother has a gambling problem, chica," the man chuckled darkly. "He played at our tables. He lost. He owes us five hundred thousand dollars."

"Half a million?" Carra gasped, the air leaving her lungs.

"You have two hours to bring the cash," the man said, his voice dropping into a lethal threat. "Or I start cutting off his fingers. One by one. And then I mail them to your office."

Shane screamed again in the background, a wet, agonizing sound.

"Please! Don't hurt him! I don't have that kind of money!" Carra begged, hyperventilating.

The man rattled off an address for an abandoned warehouse in East Los Angeles.

"Two hours," the man repeated, and the line went dead.

The dial tone hammered against Carra's eardrum. She dropped the phone. Her chest heaved rapidly as she struggled to pull oxygen into her lungs.

She opened her banking app with trembling thumbs. Her checking account had exactly ten thousand dollars in it.

She was going to listen to her brother get tortured to death.

Carra lunged forward and slammed her fists against the glass partition.

"Frank! Stop the car! Stop the car right now!" she screamed hysterically.

Jory frowned. He reached out and grabbed her flailing arms, pulling her back into the seat.

"What happened?" Jory demanded, his voice sharp.

Carra fought him like a wild animal. She kicked and thrashed, tears streaming down her face.

"Let me go!" she sobbed. "I have to save him! Let me go!"

She refused to ask the man who had just used her for a PR stunt for half a million dollars. She would rather die.