Chapter 1

The heavy oak doors of the Manhattan private club muffled the thumping bass of the music inside.

Out in the dimly lit hallway, the air smelled of expensive cigars and spilled alcohol.

Jaelynn Grant stood frozen, her knuckles turning stark white as she gripped her black quilted Chanel clutch. It was one of the last designer items she hadn't sold.

Artie Howard, her stepfather, stepped into her personal space. His face was flushed with cheap liquor.

He raised his hand and shoved her hard against the shoulder.

Jaelynn stumbled back, her spine hitting the cold, silk-lined wallpaper.

"You are going to walk into that room, and you are going to get that funding from the investors tonight," Artie warned, his voice a harsh, guttural whisper. "Or your father's medical bills go unpaid tomorrow."

Jaelynn bit down on her lower lip. She bit so hard she tasted the sharp, metallic tang of her own blood.

Her stomach twisted into a violent knot, bile rising in the back of her throat.

She stared at Artie's hypocritical, sweating face. She wanted to scream, to hit him, but the image of her father, Garfield, lying in the Intensive Care Unit at Mount Sinai Hospital flashed in her mind.

The machines keeping him alive cost tens of thousands of dollars a day. Since the Grant family company filed for bankruptcy under the Bankruptcy Code, all their assets were frozen. She had no money, no power, and no choice.

Artie sneered, turning his back on her. He pushed open the heavy door to the VIP room and walked into the noisy, smoke-filled space.

Jaelynn stayed in the hallway. She leaned against the cold wall and dragged a shaky breath into her burning lungs.

She turned her head and looked through the half-open crack of the door, scanning the room.

The lighting inside was dark, illuminated only by amber wall sconces.

Her eyes immediately locked onto the man sitting at the center of the largest leather sofa.

It was Dolph Valentine.

He wore a custom-tailored charcoal suit that screamed old money. He wasn't talking to anyone. He was just sitting there, his long fingers casually flipping a silver lighter open and closed.

Click. Clack.

The sound seemed to cut through the noise of the room.

Before Jaelynn could process his presence, Filiberto Ortega, a balding investor with a massive gut, spotted her.

Ortega walked toward the door, holding a glass of dark liquor. His greedy eyes dragged down the deep neckline of Jaelynn's red silk dress.

He held the glass out to her, his lips curling into a predatory smile.

Jaelynn forced her facial muscles to relax. She swallowed the nausea rising in her throat and reached out to take the glass.

As her fingers brushed the crystal, she intentionally let her wrist go limp.

The glass tipped.

She timed it perfectly just as he was about to pass them toward the back of the room. Half of the dark red wine splashed directly onto the sleeve of Dolph Valentine's pristine, expensive suit.

The air in the VIP room instantly froze. The music seemed to stop.

Dolph halted his steps. He slowly looked down at the dark stain spreading across his gray sleeve.

Then, he lifted his head. His dark, oppressive eyes locked onto Jaelynn.

His gaze was heavy, like a physical weight pressing down on her chest.

Jaelynn met his eyes. She forced her breathing to steady, putting on a perfectly calculated look of panic mixed with a subtle, inviting smile.

She reached into her Chanel bag, pulling out a silk handkerchief.

"I am so sorry," she whispered, stepping closer, reaching out to wipe the stain on his arm.

Dolph didn't blink. He coldly swatted her hand away.

He didn't say a single word. He just turned around and took long, purposeful strides toward the private locker rooms at the back of the hallway.

Jaelynn ignored Ortega, who was calling her name in the background.

She grabbed the fabric of her red dress, lifted it slightly, and followed Dolph's path, her high heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

Dolph pushed open the heavy wooden door of the private locker room.

Just as the door was about to swing shut, Jaelynn turned her body sideways and slipped through the narrow gap.

The locker room was pitch black. The main lights were off.

Before Jaelynn could adjust her eyes, a large, solid body turned around in the dark.

Dolph stepped forward, forcing Jaelynn to step back until her spine slammed against the hard wooden door.

A dull thud echoed in the quiet room.

Pain shot up Jaelynn's back, but she tilted her chin up stubbornly.

She reached her trembling fingers out and started unbuttoning the jacket of his ruined suit.

"I really am sorry," she breathed out, letting the smell of alcohol on her breath mix with the intimate apology.

Dolph's large hand shot out. He grabbed her slender wrist, his grip so tight her bones ground together.

Jaelynn winced, her eyebrows pulling together in pain.

"Save your cheap seduction tricks," Dolph muttered, his voice a low, dangerous rumble in the dark.

Jaelynn didn't pull away. Instead, she pushed up onto her tiptoes.

She leaned in, letting her warm, ragged breath fan across the skin of his throat, right over his Adam's apple. She was betting everything that he wouldn't push her away.

Dolph's breathing hitched for a fraction of a second.

A dark, dangerous gleam flashed in his deep eyes.

Suddenly, he let go of her wrist. His hands moved to her face, and he crashed his lips down onto hers.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a punishing, aggressive invasion.

Jaelynn couldn't breathe. Her lungs screamed for oxygen. Her hands instinctively flew up, gripping his broad, muscular shoulders to keep from falling.

Dolph's large hands slid down the curve of her waist.

He grabbed the fabric of her dress. With a sharp, violent pull, he ripped the hidden zipper on the side of her silk dress.

The sound of tearing fabric filled the dark room. The air grew thick with dangerous heat.

Jaelynn's mind was spinning. She knew this was a massive gamble. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting herself drown in the control of this terrifying stranger.

Just as their breathing turned heavy and their clothes became tangled, a loud, angry voice echoed from the hallway outside.

"Where is she?"

It was Gordon Valentine. Her ex-fiancé.

Jaelynn's entire body went rigid. Her pupils dilated in the dark.

Pure, unadulterated terror flooded her veins, turning her blood to ice water.

Outside, Gordon was yelling at a waiter. "Did you see a woman in a red dress come this way?"

His heavy footsteps were getting closer to the locker room door.

Panic seized Jaelynn's chest. She shoved her hands against Dolph's chest, trying to push him away so she could find a place to hide.

Dolph didn't budge. He wrapped his strong arms around her waist, pinning her tightly against his body. She couldn't move an inch.

Dolph looked down at her wide, terrified eyes. A cruel, wicked smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

He lowered his head and bit down hard on her exposed collarbone.

Jaelynn gasped sharply at the sudden pain.

She immediately slapped both of her hands over her own mouth, terrified that even a whimper would reach Gordon on the other side of the door.

Gordon's footsteps stopped right outside.

He pounded his fist against the heavy wood. Bang. Bang. Bang.

The vibrations traveled through the door and straight into Jaelynn's spine.

Dolph slowly pulled back. He casually adjusted the collar of his messy dress shirt.

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear.

"Gordon," Dolph whispered, saying the name like a weapon.

Jaelynn's brain short-circuited. The power map of New York's elite society flashed in her mind.

Gordon Valentine. Dolph Valentine. The names clicked in her mind, forming a terrifying connection. She knew of Gordon's powerful, reclusive uncle, a man who was whispered about in hushed tones on the Upper East Side, the true power behind the Valentine fortune. The realization hit her like a physical blow to the stomach.

Dolph watched the shock register in her eyes. He let out a cold, mocking scoff.

He turned his back to her and walked toward the door. His large hand wrapped around the brass handle.

Jaelynn pressed her back flat against the wall, sliding into the blind spot behind the door's hinges.

She listened to the mechanical click of the lock turning.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, but as she stared at Dolph's broad back, a crazy, desperate plan to use him completely solidified in her mind.