Chapter 2

The cold, white LED lights of the hotel corridor washed over Elva's expressionless face.

She didn't stop. She didn't look back. Her boots hit the carpet in a steady, measured rhythm as she headed straight for the elevator banks.

Behind her, the heavy door of the penthouse suite was violently ripped open.

Erick stumbled out, a white hotel bathrobe haphazardly thrown over his bruised body. He was limping, his face twisted in a nasty scowl, but he pushed through the pain and sprinted to cut her off.

He threw himself in front of her, blocking the hallway.

"Delete the photos, Elva," Erick hissed, his chest heaving. "Delete them right now, or I swear to God, I will ruin you."

Elva shoved her hands deep into her pockets. She stared at his pathetic, raging display with eyes as cold as a morgue.

Seeing that she wasn't intimidated, Erick pulled out his final weapon. "You think you can just walk away? Warren already made the deal. By next week, you're being shipped off to marry that fifty-two-year-old crippled freak from the Ramirez family!"

He spat the words out, waiting for her to crumble. He expected her knees to buckle, expected her to beg for his help to escape the Schmitt family's arrangement.

Just as the elevator doors on the opposite end of the hall slid shut, a tall figure stepped out of the private VIP lounge, lingering in the shadows of the corridor's corner. The glowing cherry of a cigar flared in the dark. Bronson Ramirez exhaled a thin stream of smoke, his sharp ears catching every pathetic word of the drama unfolding down the hall.

A discreet, encrypted voice crackled to life inside the microscopic Bluetooth earpiece in his right ear. His assistant's voice was a crisp, low murmur. "Sir, the 'crippled freak' that garbage is referring to is your disgraced third cousin. The Schmitts are trying to dump her on him for a business connection."

Bronson's deep, predatory eyes narrowed. Through the haze of smoke, his gaze locked onto the slender, unyielding line of Elva's back.

Down the hall, Elva didn't cry. She didn't beg. Instead, a low, chilling laugh slipped from her lips.

She took a step forward, closing the distance. The sheer, suffocating pressure radiating from her made Erick swallow hard.

"I would rather marry a stray dog off the street than spend another second breathing the same air as you," Elva said, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

Erick instinctively took a step back, his shoulders hitting the wall.

"And if you ever try to threaten me again," Elva continued, her eyes pinning him in place, "those high-definition, uncensored photos will be sitting in your parents' email inboxes before you can blink."

Erick's face turned an ashen gray. His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with rage, but the phantom pain radiating from his spine kept him glued to the wall. He didn't dare make a move.

Elva gave him one last look of pure disgust. She sidestepped him and continued her march toward the elevators.

In the shadows, Bronson slowly crushed the tip of his cigar into the metal rim of the trash can.

A dark, intense spark of interest flared in his eyes. This prey was far more fascinating than he had anticipated.

He raised a hand, giving his assistant a silent, sharp gesture to stay back and handle the trash left in the hallway.

Bronson stepped out of the shadows. His custom leather shoes made absolutely no sound against the carpet as he followed Elva's path.

Elva reached the end of the hall and jammed her finger onto the down button. She watched the digital numbers above the doors tick downward.

Ding.

The polished metal doors slid open.

Elva stepped into the empty elevator. She turned around and immediately hit the 'Close' button.

The doors began to slide shut.

Just as the gap narrowed to a sliver, a large, knuckle-scarred hand shot through the opening, gripping the edge of the metal door.

The sensors triggered. The doors slid back open.

Bronson Ramirez stepped into the confined space. He brought with him a faint, sharp scent of tobacco and an overwhelming, suffocating aura of absolute power.

Elva's muscles instantly coiled. She took a half-step back, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits as she assessed the sudden, towering threat that had just invaded her space.