While Valerie was drowning in her own thoughts, the atmosphere at the Noir Group was thick with confusion. Ellan Noir didn't just request a file; he demanded it.

The board of directors exchanged puzzled glances. Ellan rarely, if ever, concerned himself with entry-level or mid-management business. He was the Lord of the empire not the servant. Yet, there he sat, flipping through Valerie's credentials with a gaze that could peel , bore hole into anything.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was a low, dangerous calm. "We're hiring her."

The HR director cleared his throat. "For the Sales position, sir? We have more experienced-"

"No," Ellan interrupted, his eyes never leaving her photo. "Not Sales. She'll be my Executive Personal Assistant. Double the starting salary."

It wasn't because he thought she was the most qualified. It was because he needed her within his reach. He needed to know why this girl intrigued him so much .He needed answers that only closeness could provide.

At her apartment, Valerie was full of nervous energy. The place was a battlefield of takeout boxes and discarded tissues-remnants of her weekend of mourning. She spent the morning scrubbing every surface, the physical labor providing a temporary calmness for her mind.

She was just returning from the supermarket when her phone chimed. An email. Subject: Offer of Employment – Noir Group.

Her heart performed a couple of somersault. She didn't just get the job; she was being catapulted directly to the 123rd floor. Personal Assistant to the CEO. Double the pay.

"A win is a win," she whispered, though a small, intuitive part of her wondered why a man like Ellan Noir would want a stranger as his right hand.

She called Nora immediately. The two of them screamed into their phones, a chorus of pure, unfiltered relief. For the first time since her birthday, Valerie felt like the ground beneath her feet was solid. She spent the rest of her savings on a new professional wardrobe- for the life she was about to start.

Monday arrived with a crisp, intimidating chill.

Valerie stood before the Noir Group skyscraper, looking every bit the high-powered assistant in a mid-length black dress that hugged her curves and white stilettos that added a boost to her confidence. Tucked deep in her bag, the crisp handkerchief.

She walked into the lobby, head held high, and approached the desk. "I'm here to resume as the CEO's Personal Assistant."

The receptionist's eyes flicked from Valerie's face down to her shoes, a silent, icy judgment. "123rd floor."

Valerie turned toward the elevators. She reached for the nearest one-the gold-trimmed doors-when a hand clamped onto her arm.

"What are you doing?" a deep, melodic voice asked.

Valerie spun around, her breath hitching. Standing there was a man who looked like he'd stepped off a fitness magazine cover-tall, muscular, and wearing a pair of thick-rimmed glasses that gave him an air of approachable intelligence.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't know," she stammered, heart racing.

"No harm done," he said, his smile softening his features. "But don't make that mistake again. This lift is strictly for the CEO. Using it is a fast track to a penalty."

"I understand," Valerie said, her face heating up.

"I'm Eric, by the way. You the new recruit?"

"Valerie. My first day."

They rode the public elevator together. When Valerie mentioned the 123rd floor, Eric's eyebrow shot up, but he didn't pry. He just offered a playful wink as they parted ways. "Hoping to see you around, Valerie."

She was met at the top floor by Rose, a petite woman who moved with the efficiency of a Swiss watch. Valerie barely had time to set her bag down before the intercom on her desk crackled to life.

"Get in here." The voice was a dark devilish growl. The voice wasn't just a command; it was a dark, devilish growl that seemed to vibrate the very glass of the office walls.

Valerie smoothed her dress, her palms damp, and hurried toward the heavy double doors. She knocked softly-a courtesy he likely didn't care for-and entered.

The office was a cathedral of power, all floor-to-ceiling glass and polished obsidian stone. Ellan sat behind a desk that looked less like furniture and more like a fortress .

"Good morning, sir," she said, her voice trembling just enough to betray her.

"My schedule for today," he said, sliding a tablet across the desk without looking up. His movements were swift , efficient. "You have a meeting in fifteen minutes. Take these documents to the executives for signatures. And book my lunch at a five-star restaurant. Somewhere private."

"Yes, sir."

She turned to leave, but her conscience pulled at her like a lead weight. She stopped, reached into her bag, and pulled out the silk handkerchief, neatly folded. She stepped closer, invading the sterile space of his desk to place it on the oak surface. "Sir... I'm here to return this. And I'm truly sorry about the elevator. I didn't know the rules."

Ellan finally looked up. For a second, time seemed to stretch, thin and fragile. He looked at the handkerchief, then at her. She stood there-a mix of professional poise and raw, wide-eyed honesty.

"How do I make it up to you?" she asked softly, the words hanging in the heavy air.

Ellan stood up. His massive frame cast a long, intimidating shadow that seemed to swallow her whole being . He took a step closer, and the air in the room suddenly stilled, as if the building itself was holding its breath.

"Sir..." she stammered, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"You want to make it up to me?" he asked, a predatory, devilish smirk across his lips. "I'm feeling particularly charitable today, Valerie."

He sat back down,swellving round in his chair . He didn't reach for the handkerchief. Instead, he tossed a thick, silver-embossed file across the table.

"Open it," he commanded.

Valerie's fingers shook as she flipped the first page. Her eyes widened, the breath hitching in her throat.

"I could sue you," he continued, his voice low ,predatory and lethal. "For breaching executive security, for putting the safety of this lift-and my life-in danger. I could fire you right now and ensure you never hold a job in this city again. You'd be blacklisted before the sun sets."

He paused, letting the weight of the threat settle in her marrow.

"Or," he leaned forward, "you can redeem yourself. I'm giving you a choice. One phone call from me, and the best cardiac surgeons in the country are flown in to fix Nora's failing heart. I pay for the surgery, the recovery, and the debt you've been drowning in. Or... I let the elevator penalty ruin you."

Valerie was speechless, her world tilting on its axis. She looked down at the contract, reading the words in a voice that was barely a whisper, yet loud enough to echo in the silent office.

...To be at Ellan Noir's beck and call 24/7. To never refuse a request, regardless of time or nature. Total professional and personal availability. Any breach of contract results in immediate blacklisting... or worse.

"This is absurd," Valerie whispered, the sting of tears blurring her vision. "This is... slavery."

Ellan stood up again, taking slow, calculated steps toward her. "You should have thought about the cost before you stepped into my lift, Valerie. Or before you offered to pay me back."

He moved with the speed of lightning, pinning her against the edge of the desk. The mahogany was cold against her lower back, but he was heat. His breath fanned her skin, and the scent of his expensive, manly cologne drifted into her nostrils, making her head feel fuzzy, her brain refuse to function at a very important time.

His gaze dropped to her lips. He was about to say something-to seal the bargain with words she couldn't take back-when the world outside their bubble exploded.

SLAM!

The office doors flew open.

"Ellan, darling!"

Bella strutted in, her presence like a splash of acid in a clean room. She stopped dead when she saw Valerie.

Rage, hot and immediate, surged through Ellan. Valerie tried to shrink back, her wrist caught in the crossfire as she tried to excuse herself, but Ellan's grip on the situation was iron-clad. He didn't let Valerie leave just yet, leaning in to whisper something inaudible to her before turning his fury on the intruder.

Bella lunged forward, grabbing Valerie's wrist with claws disguised as nails. "Who the fuck do you think you are?! Stay away from him if you value your life, you little slut"?

Valerie didn't cower. She twisted her arm, breaking Bella's grip with a sharp, practiced motion.

"Bella!!!" Ellan's voice was thunder. The walls seemed to shake. "Who gave you permission to breathe my air, let alone question my staff?"

Bella recoiled, her face turning a sickly shade of pale. Ellan stepped toward her, his hand ghosting over her neck-not a caress, but a threat.

"You think I don't know about the other night? The drugging? The setup?" His voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "You're a slut, Bella. A dirty whore who thinks she can trap a king. You'll never be more than a footnote."

Bella's eyes bugged out. She gasped for air, her body trembling. "You... you loved me once..."

"I made a mistake once," Ellan snapped, shoving her back toward the door. "Get out. Now!"

He didn't wait for her to leave. He dialed security. Within minutes, a man escorted a weeping, screaming Bella out of the building. But the look in Bella's eyes as she left wasn't one of defeat-it was a promise of war.

As soon as she reached her car, she dialed a burner number. "I want everything on the girl in Ellan's office. Every debt, every secret, every ghost in her closet. Now!"

Back inside, Valerie was rubbing her bruised wrist. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a cold realization: her dream job had come with a nightmare attached. She asked Rose about the woman.

"The Boss's ex," Rose whispered, eyes darting toward the closed doors. "A top-tier scandal. She cheated, he found out, and the world went quiet. Just... stay out of her way."

Lunchtime arrived so fast . Valerie knocked on Ellan's door to announce the reservation.

"Give me a few minutes," he replied. Valerie turned to go, but his voice stopped her. "Did I dismiss you?"

She froze. "I... sorry, sir."

"Wait for me at my car."

In the garage, she ran into Eric again. He was leaning against a sleek SUV, looking remarkably relaxed.

"Hey, Eric," she greeted, a small smile finally breaking through her stress.

"Look at you! PA to the Big Bad Wolf," Eric joked, his eyes gleaming. "How's the first day? Survived the Bella-storm yet?"

Valerie laughed faintly, grateful for the distraction. Eric was a chatterbox, and apparently, he was the only person in the building who wasn't terrified of Ellan.

When Ellan arrived, the air chilled again. "Let's go."

They headed to a VIP section of an upscale restaurant. The meal was served in a tense, rhythmic silence, punctuated only by Eric's constant chatter, which Valerie used as a shield to keep from looking at Ellan.

When Valerie excused herself to the restroom, Eric leaned in, his voice dropping. "So? Do you like her? She's different, Ellan."

Ellan's gaze hardened into flint. "Don't question me, Eric. Go to the warehouse. Get me the data on the man we trailed. Now. And don't let me ask again."

Eric nodded, the playfulness vanishing as he took his leave.

When Valerie returned, the table felt empty. "Where's Eric?"

"Errands," Ellan said shortly. He set his fork down and leaned forward, his eyes locking onto hers. Valerie stiffened " Do we have a deal?

Valerie nodded, her throat dry. "Yes."

"Accompany me to the banquet tomorrow evening."

It wasn't an invitation. It was a command.

"Sir, I don't think-" Drop the signed contract on my table after lunch ."My driver will take you to a stylist," he continued, cutting her off with a tone of finality . "I will pick you up when you're finished."

"But I-"

"will you like me to remind you that I'm not to be questioned "

She swallowed hard. It felt like a weight. She looked at him-at the cold, calculating beauty of his face-and gave no answer. Silence was her only surrender.

That evening, the apartment felt smaller. Nora was already there, a surprise visitor who wrapped Valerie in a hug the moment she walked through the door.

"I wanted to surprise you!" Nora chirped.

They spent the evening over dinner, the air filled with laughter as Valerie recounted the chaos of the office, the "handkerchief man," and the job. But she kept the birthday-and the blood on the sheets-locked away in the dark.

As Valerie tried to sleep but she couldn't she thought about the contract "all of this is for you Nora I can't bear to loose you , miles away, a phone rang in a dark room.

"We're trailing her, Miss Bella. We'll have the full report by morning."

"Good," Bella hissed, staring at a photo of Valerie on her screen. "Let's see how long she lasts once the world knows who she really is."

The morning was a blur of nervous energy. Valerie managed a quick breakfast, leaving a scribbled note for Nora before rushing to the Noir Group. Her first task was prepping Ellan's schedule, a task she performed with extra care. When Ellan arrived, his presence seemed to command the very tiny particles in the air. She followed him into his office, reciting the day's agenda with a steady voice.

"Okay," Ellan said, his gaze lingering on her for a second too long. "Once Eric arrives, hand everything over to him. Then, follow my driver."

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"It's Ellan to you tonight," he corrected, his voice dropping into a low, private tone.

Valerie felt a prickle of heat climb her neck as she left his office. She hadn't gone far before Eric appeared, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

"Hey, . How are you doing?"

"I'm good, Eric," she said, offering a small smile.

"You left without bidding me goodbye earlier-it's not fair. Did someone miss me?" he teased, leaning against her desk.

Valerie chuckled. "I had a few things to handle. Sorry about that. Ellan asked me to hand these documents over to you."

"No problem, baby," Eric said, taking the files. "Consider it done."

As Valerie gathered her things, Rose watched her from the reception area. "Leaving so early?"

"The boss asked me to handle some personal business," Valerie said shortly, not wanting to stir the office gossip further. She stepped into the waiting black sedan, and the driver immediately zoomed off into the city traffic.

Back in the office, Eric turned to Ellan. "Why is she leaving so early?"

"She's accompanying me to the banquet tonight," Ellan replied without looking up.

Eric's expression shifted to one of genuine concern. "Are you sure? She's fragile, Ellan. She might not survive the world you're trying to drag her into. You have to stop this."

Ellan finally looked up, his eyes flashing with cold fire. "Since when do you dictate my moves, Eric?"

Silence fell over the room, heavy and absolute. Eric didn't push further.

The driver took Valerie to a high-class boutique nestled in the city's most expensive district. The interior was all white marble and gold accents. As she entered, a man with flamboyant energy and impeccable style floated toward her.

"Hello, gorgeous! How are you doing?" his gaze swept over her . "Are you Ellan's new girlfriend?"

"No-no," Valerie stammered, her cheeks flushing. "I'm his assistant."

"I'm John, and you are?"

"Valerie."

"Such a pretty name for an even prettier face," John fawned, circling her. "I love your skin, and this hair... perfection." He clapped his hands, the sound echoing through the showroom. "Everyone! Get to work! Ellan will be here by seven, and that man does not believe in waiting."

They whisked her away to a private suite. The next few hours were a whirlwind of work . A pedicure, a manicure, and a full-body spa treatment that left Valerie's muscles feeling like silk. By the time they moved her to the makeup chair, she felt more relaxed than she had in years.

John applied a cocktail of expensive oils and creams before starting on her face. When he finally finished, he leaned back satisfaction "Open your eyes, darling."

Valerie gasped. The woman in the mirror was a stranger. Her hair had been styled into loose, cascading curls that bounced off her shoulders. Her eyes were framed by a sultry, smoky shadow, and her lips were painted a bold, defiant red that matched the silk of her gown.

With less than thirty minutes to spare, they helped her into the dress. It was a floor-length, armless red gown that clung to her hourglass figure like a second skin. Shimmering silver stones were hand-stitched across the bodice, and a daring slit at the front showcased her long, straight legs.

John added the finishing touches: a diamond teardrop necklace that rested against her collarbone and silver heels that made her feel seven feet tall.

When she stepped into the showroom, Ellan was already waiting. He was dressed in a dark, perfectly tailored tuxedo, leaning against a display case. John beamed. "Your girl is magnificent, Ellan. You made a perfect choice with the dress. And that necklace... you must really love her to give her that."

"I'm not here for your chatter, John," Ellan said, though his eyes never left the doorway. "Where is she?"

Then, Valerie stepped into the light.

For a long moment, the air in the room seemed to vanish. Ellan was visibly stunned. The dress highlighted her full breast and narrow waist, the red fabric making her skin look like porcelain. She looked breath-taking.

Valerie shifted uncomfortably, feeling exposed by the slit in the skirt. "It's just for one night," she whispered to herself. "I can manage."

John beamed. "She was already a diamond; I just provided the polish."

Ellan stepped forward, stretching out his hand. Valerie hesitated for a heartbeat before placing her fingers in his. He slid a matching silver bracelet onto her wrist, his touch lingering.

"You look beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick.

"Thank you," she replied, her heart drumming against her ribs.

When they arrived at the event, Eric was waiting by the entrance. He moved to give Valerie a friendly hug, but Ellan stepped in, physically pushing him back. "Ride in the other car, Eric. You're not with us."

The banquet hall was a sea of sophisticated women and men in power. As Ellan opened the car door for her, Valerie felt a wave of nausea. "I don't fit in here," she whispered, her hand trembling.

Ellan seemed to sense her fear. He tightened his grip on her hand, pulling her closer to his side. "You fit wherever I say you fit."

They walked through the grand doors, and a collective hush fell over the room. The whispers started instantly-a hiss of curiosity and envy. Ellan ignored them all, heading straight for his parents.

"Good evening," he said coolly.

Valerie followed suit, offering a polite greeting. His mother's eyes were like ice. "Who is she, Ellan?"

Before he could answer, Bella appeared, her voice dripping with venom. "His personal assistant."

"So you ignored Bella just to bring your assistant?" his mother sneered.

Ellan didn't even blink. "If you'll excuse us." He led Valerie away before the conversation could turn into a bloodbath.

He was pulled away by a group of business partners a few minutes later, leaving Valerie alone near the edge of the ballroom. That was when she saw them.

Claire and Ryan.

"How did you get in here?" Claire hissed, her face contorting with rage. "I'm sure you must have lost your way. Or did you sleep your way in?"

"I don't think so," Ryan added, his smirk making Valerie's stomach turn. "She was a virgin the last time I checked. You're a lowlife, Valerie. You don't belong here. Maybe I should call security and have them toss you back to the gutter."

"Are you here to beg Dad for money?" Claire laughed. "Jokes on you. He's spending a fortune on my engagement party. I'll be sure to send you an invite so you can watch what a real life looks like."

"Enough," Valerie said, her voice shaking but firm. "I'm not here for Dad, and I'm certainly not here for my leftover that you call a husband."

Claire's hand flew up to slap her, but it never landed. Ellan was suddenly there, his hand catching Claire's wrist mid-air with a strength that made her wince.

"I wouldn't dare if I were you," he growled.

"Mr. Noir... I... has she offended you?" Claire stammered, her cruelty vanishing. "Tell me, so I can deal with her!"

"I don't think you understand," Ellan said, his voice dropping to a lethal level. "You will never speak to her like that again if you want to keep your head on your shoulders. Do I make myself clear?"

Ryan tried to step in. "Mr. Noir, I own Berries Company. We submitted a proposal to you-"

"And why would I want anything to do with a man like you?" Ellan cut him off. He raised Valerie's hand, intentionally flashing their matching silver bracelets to the crowd. Without another word, he led her away.

"Who were those people?" he asked, his jaw tight.

"My stepsister and my ex," she whispered.

"You shouldn't let anyone talk down to you," he began, but another partner intercepted him before he could finish. Valerie was relieved; she wasn't ready to explain the depth of the betrayal.

Exhausted by the drama, Valerie headed to the bar for a glass of champagne. Nora had warned her not to drink, so she pulled out her phone to text her friend instead, desperate for a pull to reality.

"Why is such a beautiful woman sitting alone while the party is in full swing?"

Valerie looked up. Standing before her was a tall man with striking blue eyes and a scent that was both expensive and predatory.

"I'm not really the party type," she replied cautiously.

"Can I at least have a dance?"

"I don't think my boss would like you putting your hands on what is his," Eric's voice interjected. He stepped between them, his friendly demeanor gone.

The blue-eyed man smirked. "I'm sure Mr. Noir won't mind. Miss Valerie?"

"No," Valerie said quickly. She took Eric's hand and let him lead her away.

"You shouldn't talk to that man," Eric whispered, his voice urgent. "He's dangerous. Ellan would kill him if he saw him near you."

"Not like he cares," Valerie muttered. "I'm just here for show."

"It's not what you think, Valerie," Eric started, but she was already heading for the restroom. "I just need a minute alone, Eric."

Bella saw her opening. She slipped into the restroom behind Valerie, her heels clicking like a predator's. As soon as the door closed, she bolted it.

"You refuse to stay away from him, don't you?" Bella hissed.

Before Valerie could even process the threat, Bella's hand lashed out. CRACK. The slap sent Valerie's head snapping to the side. Her face stung, turning a violent red in an instant.

Bella grabbed Valerie by her hair, tossing her against the marble wall. While Valerie was disoriented, Bella pulled a white handkerchief from her purse-one soaked in a toxic, chemical scent. She forced it over Valerie's mouth and nose.

Valerie struggled, her hands clawing at Bella's arms, but the world began to spin. Her limbs grew heavy. Her vision flickered and died. She slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Bella stepped over her, checking the hallway before locking the door and tossing the key away.

Inside the ballroom, it was time for the first dance. Ellan scanned the room, his eyes growing frantic.

"Where is she?" he demanded, cornering Eric.

"She went to the restroom a while ago," Eric said, checking his watch. "She hasn't come out."

From across the room, Bella smiled over the rim of her glass. Search all you want, Ellan.

Ellan didn't wait. He sprinted to the restroom area and gripped the handle. It was locked. He pounded on the door, shouting her name, but only silence answered him.

"Eric! Get your men! Search every exit! Now!"

He kicked the door with everything he had, the wood splintering as Valerie lifeless body stay limp on the cold floor.

Will Ellan find her before the trail goes cold, or is Valerie's nightmare just beginning?

Far into the outskirts of the city, where the streetlights were sparse and the shadows long, a sleek black van cut through the midnight fog like a predator through deep water. Inside, the cabin was thick with the scent of stale tobacco and anxiety. A phone vibrated on the dash, the glowing screen illuminating the scarred face of the driver.

A voice, cold and jagged with a refined sort of rage, hissed through the speaker. "I asked you for one thing. One simple task, and you botched it."

"Sir, the security was tighter than we anticipated-Noir's personal detail was everywhere-"

"I don't want excuses! I wanted her in the van before the gala ended. I wanted her in my custody before Noir could even realize she was missing." The voice dropped to a murderous whisper. "If Ellan Noir finds a single thread leading back to me-if he traces that drug back to my chemist-you are all dead men. Do you understand? Dispose of the vehicle and disappear."

Before the driver could plead for his life, the line went dead, leaving only the sound of the tires humming against the wet asphalt.

Back at the Banquet

The atmosphere in the grand ballroom had shifted from a celebration of wealth to a tomb of suffocating silence. Ellan stood over Valerie's crumpled form, his chest heaving under his tailored tuxedo. Seeing her like this-lifeless on the cold, unforgiving marble, her silk gown fanned out around her like broken wings-ignited a primal, volcanic fury he could no longer suppress.

"Check the CCTV!" he roared, his voice cracking like a whip through the vaulted hall. "Lock every exit. Lock the gates. Nobody leaves this building until I know whose hand touched her."

One of his security guards, a man twice Valerie's size, stepped forward, reaching out to lift her. Ellan's eyes snapped to the man, a flash of obsidian malice so lethal the guard recoiled as if he'd been burned.

"Don't. Touch. Her," Ellan gritted out.

Without another word, Ellan dropped to one knee and scooped Valerie into his arms. He didn't care about the gasps of the socialites or the way the orchestra's music had ground to a discordant halt. He felt the frantic, unnatural heat radiating off her skin through the fabric of his shirt. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her breath coming in shallow, ragged puffs that smelled faintly of the jasmine-scented drug someone had forced down her throat.

His men swarmed the building, but the report that came back ten minutes later was hollow: the footage had been professionally wiped. There was no evidence, no shadow to blame. Bella stood in the far corner of the room, her hand clutched around a champagne flute, her face a carefully constructed mask of faux concern. But beneath the surface, she was fuming. Her plan to have Valerie abducted was ruined, but as she watched Ellan carry her sister away, a new venom filled her. If Valerie remembers a single second of what I did, Bella thought, her knuckles turning white, I'll have to finish what I started.

The moment Ellan reached his SUV and cleared the crowd, Valerie's fingers suddenly spasmed. She didn't wake up-not fully-but the drug was clawing its way through her system. She gripped his lapels, her nails digging into the expensive wool. Her face was flushed a deep, feverish crimson, and her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused.

"It's you..." she murmured, her voice a broken, raspy silk. She looked at him but saw a ghost. "I thought you wouldn't come. I'm just... a tool, right? A mere secretary. Why do you look so angry?"

"Quiet, Valerie," Ellan gritted out, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

She wasn't listening. The aphrodisiac spiked in her blood, overriding her fear. She lunged forward in his arms, her body arching toward his warmth. Her lips crashed clumsily, desperately against his. It wasn't a kiss of affection; it was a chemical-fueled hunger, a cry for relief. Her hands wandered, mapping the hard, unyielding muscle of his chest and the column of his throat.

Ellan froze, his breath hitching as her tongue brushed his lower lip. His body, betraying his mind, reacted instantly. The heat of her, the scent of her skin, and the raw vulnerability of her touch sent a jolt of desire through him that nearly brought him to his knees. But he forced his hands to remain steady as he shoved her into the passenger seat. He wouldn't take her like this-drugged, confused, and broken.

He floored the accelerator, the engine of the SUV roaring as he tore through the city streets. With one hand on the wheel and the other restraining Valerie as she tried to pull her gown off, he dialed his personal physician.

"My house. Fifteen minutes," Ellan barked into the hands-free.

"Ellan? It's two in the morning. I'm on vaca-"

"If you want to keep your medical license and your head, Kelvin, you will be in my foyer in ten minutes. No excuses."

Kelvin was waiting, looking disheveled in a half-buttoned shirt, but his annoyance vanished the second he saw the state Valerie was in. Ellan carried her through the front doors, his suit jacket wrapped around her, though she was still thrashing, her skin slick with a fine sheen of sweat.

"What happened, Ellan? Did you lose control?" Kelvin asked, his voice dropping into professional seriousness as he followed them up the grand staircase.

Ellan ignored the jab, his jaw set in a hard line. He carried her straight into the master suite-a place no woman had stepped into in years. He dropped her onto the center of the massive, silk-sheeted bed, but she didn't let go. She was a storm of heat and teeth now. She pulled him down, her legs tangling with his as she straddled his lap, her breath hitching as she nipped at his earlobe.

"Valerie, stop," he groaned, his voice thick with a mix of agony and restraint.

She pouted, her glazed eyes searching his. She looked like a siren, her hair a wild halo against his black pillows. Ellan's blood was on fire, but he grabbed her wrists, gently but firmly pinning them above her head. He reached for an oversized black tee from his dresser and moved with surgical speed to get it over her head, shielding her body from Kelvin's eyes before he allowed the doctor to approach.

"Check her pulse. Now," Ellan ordered.

As Kelvin reached for her arm, Valerie lunged toward the doctor, her hands fumbling with his buttons.

"Lay a finger on her for anything other than a medical exam, and you're a dead man," Ellan warned, his voice a low, territorial rumble.

Kelvin held up his hands. "Jeez, relax. I haven't even touched her. Are you growing a heart, Ellan? Or just a leash?" He checked the thermometer and his face went pale. "Her temperature is skyrocketing. This isn't just a standard stimulant; it's a high-grade hallucinogenic aphrodisiac. If it hits 104, her brain will fry. Get the ice bath ready. Now!"

The next twenty minutes were a nightmare of cold and violence. Ellan lowered Valerie into the freezing water of his marble tub. The shock of the ice forced a piercing scream from her lungs. She fought him, her small hands splashing and clawing at his arms, her teeth clattering so loudly the sound filled the room.

"I've got you," Ellan whispered, his own shirt soaked and clinging to his chest as he held her submerged. "I've got you, Valerie. Just breathe."

Finally, her pulse began to level out. The frantic, wild look in her eyes faded into exhaustion. Her skin turned from a dangerous red to a pale, trembling ivory. Ellan whisked her out of the tub, wrapping her in a thick, heated towel and using his own body heat to regulate her temperature until she finally slumped against him, unconscious.

After Kelvin administered a sedative and left, the house fell into a heavy, expectant silence. Ellan sat on the edge of the bed, watching Valerie sleep. He reached out, his fingers trembling-a sensation he hadn't felt in a decade-as he brushed a damp strand of hair away from her face.

The way the black t-shirt had hiked up during the struggle caught his eye. He hesitated, his heart thudding against his ribs like a trapped bird. He reached down, his breath held tight, and pulled the hem of the shirt just high enough to see her lower abdomen.

There, silver and faint against her pale skin, was a jagged, inch-long scar.

Flashback: Two Years Ago

The memory hit him like a physical blow to the solar plexus. Two years ago, the Noir Group had been on the verge of bankruptcy. Ellan had refused his parents' "charity," which came with the price of marrying the manipulative Bella. In his desperation and anger, he had gone to a high-end underground club, seeking to drown his failures in gin.

His drink had been spiked-Bella's doing, he later found out-and he had stumbled into a darkened hotel suite, his blood roaring with a drugged, primal need.

A girl had been there. He remembered the smell of rain and cheap perfume on her skin. He remembered the way she looked in the moonlight-vulnerable, yet so hauntingly beautiful. In his haze, he hadn't seen her face clearly, but he remembered the feeling of her.

He remembered the way his hands had explored the silk of her curves, the way her soft pleas had turned into breathless moans of surrender as he claimed her. He had been a beast, driven by the drug and his own suppressed rage, but she had met him with a heat that matched his own.

He remembered the specific, electric jolt of pleasure when he entered her, the way she had dug her nails into his back, marking him as her own. And he remembered waking up at dawn to the sound of security. He had looked down at the girl sleeping peacefully beside him and seen that exact, jagged scar on her stomach before he was forced to flee.

He had searched for her for two years. He had looked for that shadow girl in every city, in every high-society gala. And she had been sitting ten feet away from him in his office for months, hiding behind a desk and a professional mask.

Valerie woke with a headache that felt like a rhythmic hammering against her skull. She sat up, the heavy silk duvet sliding down to reveal a man's black t-shirt. Panic flared in her chest. She remembered the restroom... the sting of a needle... and then nothing but flashes of cold water and Ellan's voice.

She stumbled downstairs, her legs feeling like lead. In the dining room, Ellan sat at the head of a long table, looking effortlessly composed in a charcoal suit. The scent of coffee and expensive tobacco filled the air.

"What happened?" she raspy out, her voice barely a whisper. "Why am I in your house? Why am I wearing your clothes?"

Ellan didn't look up from his coffee, but his hand tightened around the handle of the cup. "You were drugged at the gala, Valerie. You had a seizure. I brought you here to be treated by my doctor."

"I don't remember... anything. Did I... did we?"

"Some things are better left unsaid," he said curtly, finally looking up. His obsidian eyes were unreadable, but they burned with a new, dangerous intensity. "Take the day off. Eric will bring your things. A driver is waiting downstairs."

He stood up and walked out before she could protest. As he pulled his SUV out of the driveway, Ellan's knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. The contract was no longer just a way to save Nora's life. It was a cage to keep Valerie exactly where he could see her. She was his-she had always been his-and if Bryan or Bella thought they could touch her again, they would find out exactly how he earned the title of the Ruthless CEO.