Chapter 3 3

A groan from the heavy brass hinges of the mahogany door cut through the room, making the jazz music feel like it skipped a beat.

Every man in the VIP room stopped talking at the exact same time.

Four pairs of eyes snapped toward the entrance.

Framed in the doorway, the hall light spilling over her shoulders, Ellie was a flawless porcelain figure, completely untouched by the heavy atmosphere of the room.

She stepped inside, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood border of the carpet.

Ansel was slumped low on the sofa.

At the sight of her, Ansel's entire body went rigid.

His pupils dilated so fast the blue of his eyes almost vanished.

His hand shot out on instinct, grabbing his phone off the table.

His grip on the metal casing was so tight his joints popped in the sudden quiet.

Jax took a sip of his bourbon and inhaled sharply.

The liquor caught in his throat, and he started coughing violently.

Ellie ignored Jax.

She kept her eyes locked on Ansel and walked straight toward the leather sofa.

Right behind her, Bryan rushed in, a sick, excited grin on his face as he anticipated the explosion.

Sterling shifted his weight, sliding further back into his armchair as if trying to escape the blast zone.

Ellie stopped right in front of Ansel's knees.

She looked down at him.

For the first time, she saw it: raw panic bleeding through the arrogant mask on his face.

Ansel's Adam's apple bobbed hard.

He opened his mouth, his brain scrambling for a smooth lie to cover his tracks.

"Ellie, I-"

"I am so sorry to interrupt your boys' night," Ellie said.

Her voice was soft, sweet, and perfectly measured.

Bryan stepped forward, unable to keep his mouth shut.

"Did you hear something you shouldn't have out in the hall, Ellie?"

Ansel's head snapped toward Bryan.

His eyes were lethal, silently promising violence if Bryan spoke another word.

But it was too late.

Ellie turned her head and met Bryan's malicious stare.

"I did," she confirmed, offering him a polite nod. "I heard the pitch for the... limited-time engagement."

The temperature in the room plummeted.

Ansel stopped breathing entirely.

It felt like a giant hand had reached into his chest and crushed his lungs.

Bryan crossed his arms, waiting for the screaming and the tears.

Ellie simply reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"It is a very creative metaphor," she said lightly.

She turned her attention back to Ansel.

"When the performance ends," she asked, her eyes wide and innocent, "do you think that recommendation letter could get me an interview at Goldman Sachs? The investment banking division, specifically."

The room went dead silent.

Sterling's jaw dropped, his unlit cigar slipping from his fingers to land on the rug. Jax, who had been leaning against the bar, slowly lowered his glass, a look of utter disbelief freezing on his face.

Bryan's grin froze.

He stared at Ellie like she was an alien.

He couldn't comprehend it: a girl with no trust fund, negotiating a job reference instead of begging for love.

Ansel stared up at her.

He searched her clear, calm eyes for any sign of a crack.

He looked for a trembling lip or a forced smile.

He found absolutely nothing.

In that exact second, a cold, terrifying wave of panic crashed over him as he realized he had never held the reins.

Logic evaporated, replaced by a primal need to break her calm, to force a reaction.

Ansel lunged forward.

He grabbed her thin wrist with a bruising grip.

He pulled her hard, dragging her forward until she lost her balance.

Ellie fell right into his lap.

She did not fight him.

She let her body settle against his hard thighs, even lifting her arms to wrap them loosely around the back of his neck.

Ansel buried his face into the side of her neck.

He bit down gently on her earlobe, his breath hot and ragged against her skin.

"What kind of game are you playing?" he whispered, his voice shaking with anger and fear.

Ellie rested her cheek against his temple.

"I am fulfilling my duty as your zero-maintenance girlfriend," she whispered back.

The logic of her words felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

Ansel could not take another word from her mouth.

He grabbed the back of her head, twisted his body, and smashed his lips against hers in a desperate, punishing kiss.