Chapter 2 2

The sun was an intruder. It sliced through the floor-to-ceiling windows, hitting Daniella's eyelids with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

She gasped and sat up.

Pain shot through her limbs. Her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat. She looked around. The room was massive, sleek, and empty.

She reached out to the other side of the bed. The sheets were cold.

Memories of the night before crashed into her. The heat. The stranger. The way she had begged.

Shame washed over her, hot and prickling. She scrambled out of bed, her legs shaking. Her dress was on the floor, the zipper torn. It was unwearable. She grabbed a white robe from the end of the bed and wrapped it around herself, tying the belt so tight it hurt.

She found her purse on the coffee table. Her phone was vibrating against the glass.

Twenty text messages. Five missed calls. All from Xander.

She opened the last voice message.

You think hiding in some random guy's room saves you? I have a video of you last night. You look like a junkie. Wait until the board sees this, you slut.

Daniella's grip on the phone tightened until the screen blurred. Fear was there, yes, but anger was rising fast, burning off the hangover fog.

She typed a reply. Her fingers flew.

Post it. And while you're at it, tell the media I was with Crockett Blackburn last night. Let's see who they believe-the bankrupt heir or Blackburn's legal team.

She hit send. It was a bluff. A massive, dangerous bluff. She didn't know who the man was, only that his voice had terrified Xander.

"Crockett Blackburn?"

The voice came from behind her.

Daniella spun around, nearly dropping her phone.

He was leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom. He was wearing a navy suit that fit him like a second skin. He held two mugs of black coffee.

"Creative," he said. His eyebrow arched slightly.

Daniella felt the blood drain from her face.

"I..." She swallowed. "I just needed a name he would be afraid of. A guy like Blackburn would never know."

He didn't say anything. He walked over to her, the heavy wool of the carpet silencing his steps. He held out a mug.

And a small, silver USB drive.

Daniella took them both, confused. "What is this?"

"Security footage from the ballroom bar," he said. He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving her face. "High definition. It shows Yates slipping the powder into your drink."

Daniella stared at the silver stick in her hand. It was heavy. It was freedom.

"Why do you have this?" she whispered.

"I dislike messy variables in my vicinity," he said. "Yates is a loose end. This silences him. In return, you will honor the terms of your original agreement with my family. Disappear."

She looked up at him. In the daylight, his eyes were a piercing grey. He was terrifyingly handsome, in a way that made you want to run away and step closer at the same time.

"What do you want?" she asked. "Money? I don't have any right now."

His gaze dropped to her collarbone. She pulled the robe tighter, covering a mark she knew was there.

"I don't need money," he said. His voice dropped an octave. "I need compliance. Keep the drive. Consider it a leash. I know who you are, Miss Diaz. Don't make me come looking for you again."

The insult landed like a slap. Daniella felt tears prick her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Thank you," she said, her voice stiff. "I'll return the favor."

"I'm sure you will."

She grabbed her ruined dress and her purse. She walked to the door, forcing her legs to move steadily.

"Arthur," the man said into his phone as the door clicked shut behind her. "Get me the due diligence report on Diaz Manufacturing."

Daniella rode the elevator down. She watched the numbers drop, feeling like she was descending back into hell. She blocked Xander's number.

When the elevator doors opened in the lobby, she kept her head down. She walked out into the biting morning air.

A black sedan screeched to a halt at the curb. Xander jumped out. He looked manic, his hair disheveled.

"Daniella!" He lunged toward her.

She didn't flinch. She held up the silver USB drive. It caught the morning light.

"One more step," she said, her voice shaking but loud. "And this goes to the police."

Xander froze. His eyes locked on the drive. He knew exactly what it was. The color drained from his face.

For the first time in two years, he looked afraid.