The bass from the speakers vibrated through the floorboards of The Elysium Club, traveling straight up Bianca's legs and settling in her chest. She sat in the corner of a curved leather booth in the VIP section.

A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat on the glass table in front of her. She picked up her glass and swallowed the amber liquid in one gulp. The alcohol burned a fiery path down her throat, hitting her stomach with a heavy, numb warmth.

Her head pounded in time with the strobe lights, but she poured another glass. She wanted the numbness to spread. She wanted to forget the image of Kahlil and Cassandra in that dining room.

A tall shadow fell over her table, blocking the harsh purple lights. Aydin Lee slid into the booth opposite her.

He wore a tailored casual suit, his posture relaxed. He reached across the table and smoothly pulled the whiskey bottle away from her hand. He poured a small amount into an empty glass.

"Rough night, princess?" His voice was a low, magnetic rumble that cut through the club's noise.

Bianca glared at him. Her vision was slightly blurred, but her tone was sharp. "What's it to you, Aydin?"

Aydin shrugged. He leaned back against the leather cushions. "Just making sure my favorite customer doesn't drink herself to death on my premises. Bad for business."

He lifted a hand. A waiter appeared instantly, placing a tall glass of ice water and a plate of small, elegant appetizers on the table.

Bianca ignored the food. She stared at her empty glass. Aydin didn't push. He just sat there, taking a slow sip of his drink, his presence a quiet anchor in the chaotic room.

After a few minutes, the alcohol loosened the tight knot in Bianca's throat. "Why do men always believe the worst?" Her words slurred slightly, heavy with a vulnerability she usually kept locked away.

Aydin raised an eyebrow. He knew exactly who she meant. "Which man? Your charming husband?"

Bianca let out a harsh, breathless laugh. "Charming? Ha. He thinks I'm incapable. Unfit. A burden."

Her chest heaved. The edges of her eyes burned with hot, unshed tears. "He'd rather believe a snake than see the truth."

Aydin's eyes darkened. He leaned forward. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from her cheek. The movement was fluid, familiar.

"Then he's a fool, Bianca. And fools don't deserve you." His voice was dead serious.

Bianca flinched backward, but her reflexes were dulled by the whiskey. Aydin's fingertips grazed her skin. A wave of dizziness hit her. The room spun, the neon lights bleeding into one another.

"I... I should go." She pushed her hands against the glass table, trying to stand. Her knees buckled. She fell heavily back onto the leather seat.

Aydin was beside her in a second. He gripped her upper arm, his hold firm and steady. "You're in no state to drive. Or even walk straight. Let me take you home."

Bianca wanted to shake him off, but her muscles felt like liquid. Her head throbbed violently. She gave a weak nod.

Aydin pulled her to her feet. She swayed, her shoulder crashing into his chest. He wrapped an arm securely around her waist, taking most of her weight.

They walked through the crowded club. The smell of sweat and cheap perfume made Bianca nauseous. She rested her heavy head against Aydin's shoulder, her eyes slipping shut.

Outside, the cool night air hit her face. Aydin's black Maybach was parked at the curb. He opened the passenger door and carefully guided her into the seat. He reached across her, his chest brushing her arm, and clicked the seatbelt into place.

He closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. The engine purred to life. Bianca sank into the soft leather, her mind drifting into a dark, spinning void.

Aydin glanced at her. His jaw was tight. He merged the car into the sparse midnight traffic, heading toward Red Leaf Manor.

Bianca mumbled something incoherent. Aydin reached out and turned down the air conditioning.

Inside Bianca's clutch, her phone began to vibrate violently. The screen lit up the dark interior of the car. The caller ID flashed: Mrs. Gable.

Aydin looked at the glowing screen. He didn't touch it. He kept his hands on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road, unaware of the explosive trap waiting for them at the end of the drive.

The black Maybach rolled smoothly up the long, circular driveway of Red Leaf Manor. The tires crunched softly against the gravel before coming to a stop under the massive stone portico.

Aydin put the car in park. He unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out into the cool night air. He walked around the hood and pulled open the passenger door. The heavy scent of whiskey and Bianca's floral perfume spilled out into the night.

He leaned in. "We're here, Bianca." He reached across her and pressed the red button to release her seatbelt.

Bianca let out a soft groan. Her body was completely limp. She tilted sideways, practically falling out of the seat. Aydin caught her instantly. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, pulling her against his side to keep her upright.

Her head lolled onto his shoulder. Her eyes were half-closed, her breathing shallow. Aydin looked down at her, adjusting his grip to make sure she wouldn't slip.

"What a touching scene."

The voice sliced through the quiet night like a physical blade.

Aydin froze. Bianca's body jerked against him. She forced her heavy eyelids open.

Kahlil stepped out from the deep shadows of the front pillars. The dim porch light hit his face. His jaw was locked so tight the muscles jumped beneath his skin. His eyes were pure, terrifying black.

Aydin's grip on Bianca's waist tightened slightly. He offered a calm, flat smile. "Mr. Montgomery. Your wife had a bit too much. I was just ensuring she got home safely."

Kahlil walked forward. Each step was slow, deliberate, and heavy. His eyes never left Aydin's hand resting on Bianca's hip. His chest rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths.

"Safely?" Kahlil's voice was a low, dangerous growl. He reached up and violently yanked at his tie, loosening it. "You call this safe? Your hands all over her? In the middle of the night?"

The sheer force of Kahlil's rage sent a shock of adrenaline through Bianca's veins. The alcohol fog cleared just enough for panic to set in. She tried to push herself away from Aydin, her legs trembling. "Kahlil... it's not..."

Kahlil's head snapped toward her. "Shut up! Don't say a word!"

His roar echoed off the stone walls. Bianca flinched, her teeth biting down hard on her lower lip. Her stomach plummeted.

Kahlil turned his lethal glare back to Aydin. A cruel, ugly sneer twisted his lips. "Aydin Lee. The club owner. So, this is how you conduct business? By servicing your clients... personally?"

Aydin's calm facade cracked. His eyes hardened into ice. "I'd watch your tone, Montgomery. I was doing you a favor."

"Favor?" Kahlil let out a harsh, barking laugh. He stepped entirely into Aydin's personal space. "I don't need favors from men who look at my wife like she's their next meal."

Bianca's breath caught in her throat. The humiliation burned her skin like acid. Her hands shook. She wanted to scream, but her throat was completely paralyzed.

Aydin held Bianca steady. He looked Kahlil dead in the eye. "You're drunk on jealousy, not alcohol. And you're hurting her."

The word jealousy acted like a match to gasoline. Kahlil's vision went red. He lunged forward. He slapped Aydin's arm away with brutal force and grabbed Bianca's wrist.

He yanked her forward. Bianca stumbled, her high heels twisting on the pavement. She crashed hard into Kahlil's solid chest. The impact knocked the wind out of her. She smelled the sharp scent of his cologne mixed with the metallic tang of his anger.

Kahlil's arm clamped around her waist like a steel vice. His fingers dug painfully into her ribs. He didn't care. He glared at Aydin. "Leave. Now. Before I do something we both regret."

Aydin looked at Bianca's pale, terrified face. He looked back at Kahlil, his expression filled with absolute disgust. "Take care of her, Montgomery. Or someone else will."

Aydin turned, got into his car, and slammed the door. The engine roared, and the Maybach sped down the driveway, disappearing into the dark.

Kahlil didn't wait a single second. He spun around, dragging Bianca toward the massive front doors. His grip on her wrist was bone-crushing.

Bianca stumbled up the steps, her feet barely keeping up with his furious strides. "Kahlil, listen to me! I just drank too much, he..."

Kahlil stopped so abruptly Bianca slammed into his back. He spun around. He grabbed her upper arms, his fingers biting into her flesh. He leaned down, his face inches from hers.

"He what? Touched you? Held you? Made you smile while you were supposed to be here, in my house?"

Bianca stared up at him. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs. The raw, desperate possessiveness in his eyes terrified her. It wasn't just anger. It was agony.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The cold night air whipped around them, but the ice in Kahlil's eyes was colder.

Kahlil dragged Bianca through the front doors. He didn't stop in the foyer. He pulled her into the center of the brightly lit living room and shoved her forward.

Bianca lost her balance. She fell hard onto the leather sofa. Her spine cracked against the stiff cushions. A sharp jolt of pain shot up her back, clearing the last remnants of the whiskey from her brain. Her blood ran cold, quickly replaced by a boiling, violent humiliation.

Kahlil stood towering over her. His chest heaved. His hands were curled into tight fists at his sides.

"Explain." He spat the word out.

Bianca pushed her hands against the leather cushions and forced herself to sit up. She rubbed her throbbing wrist. Her eyes met his, completely devoid of fear now. Only ice remained.

"Explain what?" she snapped. "That I went out for a drink? That I got drunk? That a friend drove me home?"

Kahlil let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-snarl. "Friend? A friend who holds you like a lover? Who looks at you with hunger? Who whispers in your ear while you lean on him like a wanton?"

Bianca's stomach lurched. She jumped to her feet. The sudden movement made her dizzy, and she swayed, grabbing the edge of the heavy glass coffee table to keep from falling. Her face was chalk-white.

"Don't you dare!" she yelled, her voice tearing through her throat. "Aydin was just being a decent human being, unlike you!"

"Decent?" Kahlil closed the distance between them in one stride. He pointed a shaking finger inches from her face. "Decent men don't touch married women! They don't offer 'personal rides' at midnight!"

Bianca backed away from his aggressive energy until her shoulder blades hit the cold, hard plaster of the wall. She was trapped.

A sharp cramp twisted her stomach. The alcohol and the adrenaline were warring inside her body, making her nauseous. She swallowed hard, refusing to break eye contact.

"You're sick, Kahlil," she whispered, her voice trembling with rage. "Sick with jealousy and paranoia. You hate me, remember? So why do you care who I'm with?"

The words hit Kahlil like a physical blow. The muscles in his jaw locked. A dark, ugly red crept up his neck.

"I don't care!" he roared. The sound vibrated the crystal glasses on the bar cart. "I care about my dignity! My property! You are my wife in name, and you will not make a fool of me!"

The word property echoed in the silent room.

Bianca stopped breathing. A hot tear spilled over her lower lash line, tracking quickly down her cheek. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. Her shoulders shook.

"Property," she repeated. Her voice was hollow, stripped of all fight. "That's all I am to you. A piece of property. A means to an end."

Kahlil saw the tear. His hands twitched. A flash of intense, suffocating panic crossed his eyes, but he instantly buried it under a fresh layer of cruelty.

"Stop playing the victim!" he barked. "You brought this on yourself! Running away, drinking, whoring around-"

Smack.

The sharp, explosive sound of flesh hitting flesh stopped his words instantly.

Bianca's right hand hung in the air, stinging and trembling violently.

Kahlil's head was turned sharply to the left. A bright red handprint bloomed across his cheekbone. He stood completely frozen. He slowly turned his head back to look at her. The shock in his eyes was absolute.

Bianca didn't lower her hand. Her chest heaved. "Don't you ever... ever call me that again."

Her voice was low, vibrating with a deadly calm. "I have never been unfaithful to you. Not with Aydin, not with anyone. The only thing I'm guilty of is being trapped in this farce of a marriage with a man who despises me!"

Kahlil stared at her. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He opened his mouth, but his throat worked soundlessly. He let out a low, frustrated growl, spun on his heel, and marched toward the grand staircase.

"Where are you going?" Bianca called after him, her voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. "To call your lawyer? To start the divorce papers you've been dreaming of?"

Kahlil stopped at the bottom step. He didn't turn around. His shoulders were rigid. "Divorce? You think it's that easy? You're not going anywhere until I say so."

He looked over his shoulder. His eyes were black voids. "And you will stay away from Aydin Lee. I won't warn you again."

He took the stairs two at a time. The heavy thud of his footsteps faded down the second-floor hallway. A door slammed shut.

Bianca stood alone in the massive living room. The adrenaline crashed.

A blinding, agonizing pain ripped through her stomach. She gasped, her hands flying to her abdomen. Her knees buckled. She collapsed onto the hardwood floor, curling into a tight ball. The cold sweat poured down her back. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to even scream as the agony tore her apart.