Chapter 3

The woman was one step away from the second-floor landing. Cora accelerated. Her stilettos sank into the plush carpet, silencing her approach. Just as the woman lifted her foot for the final step, Cora twisted her ankle inward and threw her weight forward.

She slammed into the woman's back.

A sharp gasp echoed in the stairwell. The woman stumbled forward, her arms flailing. The silver tray tipped dangerously, the two glasses of whiskey sliding toward the edge.

Cora's hands shot out. She grabbed the edges of the tray, stabilizing it a split second before the glasses shattered on the floor.

The woman caught the railing and spun around, her face twisted in fury. "Watch where you're going, you stupid-"

The insult died in her throat. Cora stepped into her personal space, her eyes cold and dead.

"I saw the powder," Cora whispered, her voice barely a breath against the woman's ear. "White. Fast-dissolving. You dropped it in the glass on the right."

The woman's face turned the color of chalk. Her eyes darted frantically around the stairwell. She opened her mouth to deny it, but Cora's index finger was already resting on the rim of the spiked glass.

"You have two choices," Cora said, her tone conversational. "You let go of this tray and walk out the front door right now. Or I scream for security, and I let the Bauer legal team bury you in a federal prison for the next twenty years."

The woman swallowed hard. Terror radiated from her in waves. Her hands shook violently as she released the tray. She didn't say a word. She turned and practically ran down the stairs, disappearing into the crowded club.

Cora stood alone in the shadows of the stairwell. She took a deep breath, letting the stale air fill her lungs. She adjusted the straps of her red dress, pasted a flawless, seductive smile onto her lips, and stepped out onto the second-floor landing.

She walked straight toward the semi-private booth.

Gus Bullock was the first to notice her. He was playing with a silver lighter, flipping the lid open and shut. When he saw the red silk and the long dark hair, he stopped. A slow, appreciative smirk spread across his face. He let out a low whistle.

Jace didn't move. He slowly lifted his gaze. His eyes were the color of a stormy ocean, dark and freezing. They locked onto Cora, stripping her down, analyzing her as if she were a hostile asset. The sheer weight of his stare made Cora's lungs seize.

She forced her legs to keep moving. She reached the table and gracefully set the tray down. She picked up the untainted glass of whiskey and slid it across the mahogany table toward Gus.

Gus leaned forward, his eyes dropping to her cleavage. "Well, hello. Did they upgrade the bottle service, or are you a special delivery?"

Cora ignored him completely. She didn't even blink in his direction.

She turned her head and met Jace's eyes.

He was watching her. Waiting. He knew she wanted something.

Cora didn't speak. She picked up the second glass-the one with the powder. She held Jace's gaze, her eyes burning with a silent, reckless challenge.

Then, she tipped her head back and drank it.

She downed the spiked whiskey in three long gulps. The liquid burned a fiery trail down her throat. A single drop escaped the corner of her mouth, tracing a line down her neck and disappearing into the deep V of her red dress.

Jace's jaw tightened. The hand resting on the table twitched, his fingers curling slightly inward. His eyes darkened, the cold indifference fracturing for a fraction of a second.

Cora slammed the empty glass back onto the tray. The sharp clack echoed over the jazz music. She gave Jace a slow, heavy-lidded smile-a promise and a threat all rolled into one.

The drug hit her bloodstream faster than she anticipated. A sudden, violent wave of heat bloomed in her stomach. The edges of her vision blurred. Her knees went weak.

She turned away before she collapsed. She forced herself to walk away from the table, her hips swaying, heading toward the private VIP suites at the back of the floor. Every step was a battle. Her blood felt like it was boiling.

Gus let out a bark of laughter. "Bold strategy. She's practically throwing herself at you, man. Easiest lay of the century."

Jace tossed his unlit cigar onto the table. "Stupidity," he muttered. But he noticed the slight tremor in her hand as she slammed the glass down. It wasn't the confidence of a seductress. It was a gamble. He decided to see the flop. Slowly, deliberately, he stood up.

Gus's jaw dropped as he watched his notoriously ruthless, untouchable friend button his suit jacket and follow the woman in the red dress down the hall.

Cora reached the heavy wooden door of the last suite. She pushed it open and stumbled inside. The room was pitch black and silent. She leaned against the back of the door, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. Her skin was on fire. The drug was tearing through her nervous system.

Footsteps echoed in the hall. Heavy. Deliberate.

The door was shoved open, pushing Cora forward. Jace stepped into the room. His massive frame blocked the light from the hallway. He reached behind him and locked the door with a loud, definitive click.

He looked down at her, his expression a mask of pure disgust. "You're pathetic," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Drugging yourself just to get into my bed? Is your life worth that little?"

Cora couldn't defend herself. She didn't want to. She sank to her knees, her legs finally giving out. She reached up with trembling hands and grabbed the perfectly creased fabric of his suit pants.

Jace flinched. He moved to kick her away, a reflex born of paranoia and disgust. But as his leg brushed against her bare arm, he froze.

She was burning up. Her skin was radiating an unnatural, terrifying heat.

Cora tilted her head back. Her eyes were glazed over, filled with a desperate, feverish haze. She looked up at the man who could destroy her, the man she was trying to destroy.

"Even pathetic women can carry kings," she choked out, her voice a broken rasp, her eyes burning with a defiant challenge that pierced straight through his armor.

Jace stared down at her. The disgust in his eyes warred with something darker, something violent and possessive that flared at her audacity. He didn't just see a broken woman; he saw a wild thing daring to claim a piece of his throne. He cursed under his breath. He bent down, wrapped his arms around her waist, and hoisted her off the floor, carrying her toward the massive bed in the center of the room.