Chapter 2

The brass knob turned with a heavy, metallic click.

Dolph pulled the heavy wooden door open, but only a few inches. His massive frame completely blocked the gap, cutting off any view into the dark locker room.

He looked down, his eyes cold and flat, staring at Gordon, who was panting and red-faced in the hallway.

Gordon's angry expression vanished the second he saw who opened the door. He took in Dolph's messy hair, the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, and the dark stain on his jacket.

Gordon's shoulders dropped. "Uncle Dolph," he stammered, taking a step back.

Inside the room, Jaelynn held her breath. Her lungs burned. She pressed her spine so hard against the wall she felt the plaster digging through her skin. Her hands gripped the torn edges of her red silk dress, her knuckles white.

Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might crack her ribs.

"Are you incapable of keeping your voice down in a private club, Gordon?" Dolph's voice was low, but it carried a lethal authority. "You are embarrassing the Valentine family."

Gordon swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I was just... I'm looking for a woman. She doesn't know her place."

Gordon's eyes darted nervously, trying to peek through the narrow crack between Dolph's arm and the doorframe.

Dolph shifted his weight, turning his body slightly to block Gordon completely.

As he moved, he reached his hand behind his back, finding the bare skin of Jaelynn's waist. He pinched the soft flesh there, hard.

A violent shiver ripped through Jaelynn's body.

As he pinched her, a gasp clawed at her throat. Desperate to stay silent, she twisted and bit down hard on the hand that was holding her waist, her teeth sinking into his skin. Her eyes watered from the sheer effort of staying silent.

"Get out of my sight, Gordon," Dolph ordered, his tone devoid of any warmth. "Do not interrupt my private time again."

Before Gordon could say another word, Dolph slammed the door shut in his face.

The lock clicked into place.

Out in the hallway, Gordon's frantic footsteps quickly faded away.

Jaelynn's knees gave out. She slid down the wall, her body hitting the carpeted floor as all the strength drained from her muscles.

Dolph turned around. He looked down at her sitting on the floor. The heat from the kiss was completely gone from his eyes. There was only cold, calculating judgment left.

Jaelynn forced herself to swallow her pride. She pushed herself up from the floor, her legs shaking.

She pulled the torn fabric of her dress across her chest, trying to cover her exposed skin. She forced a stiff, unnatural smile onto her face.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Dolph reached into the pocket of his trousers. He pulled out a silver money clip, extracted a few crisp hundred-dollar bills, and tossed them onto the wooden bench next to her. As he pulled his hand from his pocket, a thick, gold-embossed business card slipped out and fluttered to the floor unnoticed by him.

"Don't have any unrealistic fantasies," Dolph said coldly. He didn't look at her again as he pushed the door open and walked out.

Jaelynn stared at the empty room. A massive wave of humiliation crashed over her, making her chest ache.

But she walked over to the bench. Her trembling fingers picked up the fallen card. She gripped it so tightly the sharp edges dug into her palm.

She walked over to the mirror above the sinks. She spent five minutes fixing her messy hair. She found a safety pin in her Chanel bag and pinned the torn zipper of her dress together.

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and pushed the door open, stepping back into the hallway.

The moment she turned the corner, Artie stepped out of the shadows, blocking her path. His face was dark with rage.

"Where the hell have you been?" Artie hissed, grabbing her arm. "The investors are getting impatient."

"I was in the bathroom. I threw up," Jaelynn lied, her voice flat. She yanked her arm out of his grip.

Artie didn't care. He grabbed her wrist again, dragging her down the hallway toward a different VIP suite.

As they walked past the semi-open booths of the cigar lounge, Jaelynn's feet suddenly stopped moving.

She heard a low, distinct laugh. It was Dolph.

She turned her head. Through the gaps in the carved glass partition, she saw Dolph sitting on a dark leather sofa. He was surrounded by a group of Wall Street heirs, including Benji Mclean, Gordon's best friend. They were all smoking thick cigars.

Benji leaned forward, his eyes catching something on Dolph's hand.

Benji whistled loudly. "Damn, Dolph. Look at that bite mark on your hand. Looks like you had a wild time in the back rooms tonight."

Jaelynn's entire body went stiff. Her fingernails dug into her palms. She knew exactly where that bite mark came from. She had bitten his hand in the locker room when he pinched her.

Dolph exhaled a thick cloud of gray smoke. He glanced down at the red teeth marks on his skin.

His face was completely bored. "Just got bit by a blind wildcat," he said, his tone dripping with casual disrespect.

The entire booth erupted into loud, obnoxious laughter.

Benji grinned. "How was the wildcat?"

Dolph took another drag of his cigar. "Tasteless. Boring."

Those two words hit Jaelynn like a physical slap to the face. The tiny bit of confidence she had built up about using him shattered into a million pieces.

Artie shoved her hard from behind. "Move!" he barked.

Jaelynn stumbled forward, her vision blurring. She pulled her eyes away from the glass and let Artie drag her away.

Artie shoved her through the doors of the VIP suite. The room was thick with cigar smoke and the smell of old men.

The investors looked up, their eyes crawling over her pinned dress like she was a piece of meat on display. The air in the room felt suffocating.

She was forced to sit on the edge of the leather sofa. She picked up a glass of water mechanically.

Dolph's voice echoed in her head. Tasteless. Boring.

Ortega, the balding investor, slid closer to her. He reached out his sweaty hand and placed it heavily on her bare thigh.

Jaelynn's body reacted before her brain did.

She grabbed the glass of ice water from the table and threw the freezing liquid directly into Ortega's face.

Ortega screamed, jumping up as the ice hit his eyes. The room descended into chaos.

Artie's face turned purple with fury. He raised his hand and swung.

Smack.

His heavy palm struck Jaelynn's cheek with brutal force. The impact threw her backward, her body crashing into the armrest of the sofa.

A sharp, burning pain exploded across her face. She tasted the warm, metallic flavor of blood pooling in her mouth.

She didn't cry. She slowly pushed herself up.

She turned her head and stared at Artie. Her eyes were dead, filled with a cold, terrifying hatred.

While the men yelled and cursed at her, Jaelynn grabbed her Chanel bag.

She shoved past Artie, ignoring his shouts, and ran out of the suite, never looking back.