Chapter 1 Take Responsibility For What Happened

Gianna Lloyd burst from the apartment, her heart hammering against her ribs as she fled.

Terror etched across her features, she sprinted forward with her torn shirt exposing one shoulder to the cool night air.

She dared not pause even for a breath, convinced her pursuer would seize her at any moment.

When she collided with someone's solid chest, Gianna's gaze darted upward in alarm.

Before her stood a man whose striking features conveyed aristocratic elegance despite his solemn expression.

Before she could react, a furious voice echoed from behind her. "Damn it! Where the hell did that bitch go? When I get my hands on her, I'll fuck her the whole night."

Every muscle in Gianna's body tensed at the sound; capture was unthinkable.

She searched the stranger's face, and something primal awakened within her.

"Sir, please help me, I beg you..." Gianna whispered, her trembling fingers clutching his sleeve while tears glistened in her eyes.

Tristan Murray glanced down at the woman who had crashed into his arms. Annoyance flashed across his face, but it dissolved into recognition when he saw her face.

Just as despair began to creep into Gianna's heart, Tristan enveloped her in his overcoat.

His voice was low, steady. "Don't resist. Just follow me."

Darkness surrounded Gianna, yet rather than fear, an unexpected sense of security washed over her.

Tristan's arm encircled her waist, holding her against him with unusual protectiveness, as though fearing she might vanish.

Oblivious to his peculiar behavior, Gianna instinctively clutched his shirt and allowed him to guide her forward.

The subtle scent of alcohol emanating from his skin crashed into Gianna's heightened senses.

Shortly thereafter, she heard hinges creak as a door swung open, and he ushered her into his apartment.

The door clicked shut, but Tristan maintained his protective hold.

Gianna clung to him, her self-control evaporating with each passing second.

His intoxicating scent overwhelmed her, drawing her body towards his with magnetic force, creating a desperate longing for skin-to-skin contact.

Tristan tilted Gianna's chin upward, noting her unfocused gaze and the unnatural flush spreading across her cheeks. His brow furrowed with concern. "Were you drugged?"

Now sheltered from immediate danger, the final threads of Gianna's rationality unraveled, allowing the drug to claim complete dominion over her consciousness, rendering Tristan's words incomprehensible.

She registered only the tantalizing sensation of his cool, calloused fingers against her feverish skin-a touch she found impossible to resist.

Following primal instinct, she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, whispering, "Help me... Please..."

Gianna pressed her mouth to his, instinctively parting his lips and offering the velvet caress of her tongue.

After a moment of stunned hesitation, Tristan returned her kiss with unexpected fervor.

In that instant, Gianna discovered that kisses existed in countless variations.

Molten desire pooled between her thighs, intensifying when his cool palm enveloped her heated breast and teased the sensitive peak. For the first time, she experienced pleasure cascading through her body like liquid fire.

Lost in sensation, Gianna could not determine whether the drug alone was responsible for her abandon.

When he finally joined their bodies, confusion and exhilaration mingled within her. Gianna clutched his back urgently, her fingertips discovering a landscape of raised scars.

There was no time for questions; she buried her face against his neck, her voice quavering as she pleaded, "Harder..."

Without hesitation, Tristan complied, increasing the intensity of his movements.

His burning chest pressed against hers as exquisite pleasure engulfed her until consciousness itself dissolved into blissful oblivion.

When Gianna finally awakened, afternoon light streamed through unfamiliar windows.

The strange sensations coursing through her body jolted her fully awake, and she bolted upright.

Across from the bed sat a stranger impeccably attired, his strikingly handsome face bearing a refined yet gentle demeanor, an aura of restrained power surrounding him.

Gianna panicked. Had she and this man slept together last night?

"Awake?" Tristan absently rubbed the ring adorning his middle finger, his tone deliberately neutral.

Gianna's racing thoughts scattered, and she lowered her gaze, unable to meet his eyes.

She felt as though there existed no safe place for her gaze to land in the entire room.

"About last night..." She hesitated, struggling to find the right words.

But Tristan cut her off before she could continue. "I'll take responsibility for what happened."