Chapter 2 Heat And Control

Heat jolted through Leland's hand the moment Valerie's satin-soft skin brushed his palm, stopping his breath for a stunned heartbeat.

With clothes ripped apart, the woman stood before him, the fabric barely able to shield the smooth lines of her body.

His gaze dipped before he could stop himself, catching the flawless sweep of skin that stole the air from his lungs.

When he dragged his eyes back up, he found her staring at him-tear-rimmed, wide, shining with raw pain and a glint of yearning that bordered on lust.

Valerie had slammed into him head-on after hurling herself in from the upstairs window, her breath still ragged from the jump.

The heat rolling off his body seeped into her, sending a sharp tremor down her spine. She jerked her chin up, stunned to find herself pressed against him, their breaths tangling.

For one suspended second, neither of them moved. Then instinct surged through her. She snapped her arm up, fingers locking around his throat with lethal precision. "Go ahead, try something," she warned, a chill lacing her words. "And I swear I'll fucking kill you right here."

Fear was supposed to flare in him-any sane man would have recoiled. But Leland felt something far more dangerous ignite deep inside him. Her eyes, icy and unyielding, radiated a deadly allure that rooted him to the spot.

The shredded fabric clinging to her, the scars marking her cheek-none of it dimmed the fierce, breathtaking force of her presence.

Compared to the glamorous socialites who practically draped themselves over him, she carried a raw, feral edge that set her apart.

That collision of a trembling frame and a predator's stare hit Leland like a spark catching dry tinder. For the first time in years, something close to intrigue rippled through him.

Without the slightest hint of resistance, Leland slid an arm around Valerie's narrow waist, amusement glinting beneath his lashes.

"So you're the woman my mother sent to my bed," he murmured, his voice dropping into a teasing drawl. "For once, she actually made a right choice."

Sent to his bed?

Which dumb bastard thought they could send her-the world's most terrifying assassin alive-to a man's bed?

Apparently, he had her mixed up with someone else.

A crease formed between Valerie's brows as she prepared to flatten him, but the moment she shifted her weight, her muscles betrayed her, refusing to move.

Fire from the drug surged through her veins, melting her strength until her knees nearly buckled, a raw craving clawing its way out from deep inside.

Pressed against a man carved from hard muscle and irritatingly good looks, she felt her control slipping by the second.

She forced her jaw tight, wrestling with the fog trying to swallow her thoughts.

"Back the hell off," she snapped, shoving at his chest with shaky hands. "Someone drugged me. If I end up in your bed, that's on you-not me. And if you so much as try shit, I'll make damn sure you regret it."

A startled puff of air left Leland, equal parts disbelief and reluctant amusement.

Nobody had ever dared to talk to him that way.

Before he could get a word out, Valerie pivoted sharply and strode toward the bathroom without hesitation.

Mist clung to the tiles, and the tub brimmed with hot water-clearly something arranged for him.

Warm water rose around her as she lowered herself into the tub, and a sharp sting flared across her right wrist, sending dark ribbons of blood swirling through the heat like smoke.

Leland's gaze cut to the injury instantly, a flicker of alarm tightening his jaw.

He closed the space between them in quick strides, caught her wrist with steady fingers, and murmured in a low, urgent tone, "This is bad. Come on-out of the water. Let me handle it."

Before the command fully left his mouth, her hand swept up, curving behind his neck. With a swift, almost feral pull, she dragged him down and crashed her mouth onto his.

He stopped breathing for a beat, then the restraint broke. One arm locked around her waist, drawing her against him as he deepened the kiss with raw intensity.

Her other hand slipped beneath the front of his robe, tracing the hard lines of his abdomen with shaky, fever-driven need.

Everything about her was frantic-too quick, too hungry-and fresh blood spilled from her reopened wound, sliding over his torso in thin, scarlet trails that disappeared into the steaming water.

"Don't use the injured hand." A low, rugged murmur slipped from Leland's lips, brushing against her mouth. He caught her wrist and shoved it above her head, pinning it to the slick tile with unhurried, dominant strength.

Annoyance flashed across Valerie's face. Vulnerable wasn't a position she tolerated. She shifted her balance, snapped her knee hard into the side of his thigh, and used his jolt of pain to drag him straight into the water with her.

Warm waves splashed up the walls as she twisted, rolling her weight over him until she was straddling his hips, her palms braced on his chest.

Steam curled around them in hazy swirls; their breaths mingled in the cramped heat, every inch between them charged and desperate.

Just as the last thread of restraint was about to snap, Leland's phone rang sharply from the bedroom.

Valerie jerked back, sliding off him in a rush. She retreated to the far edge of the tub, chest rising and falling as she fought for air.

Damn it! She was Phantom-top assassin in the world. How the hell had one dose of that drug torn through every layer of discipline she possessed?

Leland didn't care about her moment of clarity. He pushed up through the water, eyes blazing with intent, leaning in again, clearly determined to claim her mouth once more.

A glint of icy resolve sharpened in Valerie's gaze. Acting on instinct, she drove her left nails straight into the half-healed gash on her right wrist, tearing it wider until a fresh, searing line of blood streamed into the bath.

The jolt of pain carved cleanly through the fog clouding her mind.

Leland halted, his breath catching as he watched her deliberately wound herself just to claw back control.

Tension hardened his jaw before he stepped out of the tub, water dripping from his skin as he reached for her and swept her off her feet.

A shudder rippled through Valerie-heat dragging her one way, instinct dragging her the opposite-her body betraying her even as her mind fought it.

"You lay one more finger on me and I swear I'll..." she hissed, voice tight with fury.

Her threat never landed. Leland had already brought a vial to her lips.

The moment the liquid touched her tongue, she recognized the bitter tang-an extremely rare antidote, the type designed to burn an aphrodisiac right out of the bloodstream.

Obedience came easily in her haze; she swallowed the antidote, and the drug's grip slipped away one frayed thread at a time until her world finally went dark.

Leland wrapped her in a blanket, then picked up his phone to call his personal physician, Emma Patel.

Valerie's cheeks glowed heat-flushed, and the damp strands plastered to her temples softened her features in a way that made her devastatingly gorgeous. But when that softness met the scars on her cheek, the contrast turned haunting.

Leland's eyes went darker. He swept the wet strands away with a slow, controlled touch and stayed close, pressing firmly against her wrist to stem the bleeding.

Minutes crawled by before the door finally swung open.

Sarah had already been taken away by the presidential security team.

A sharp-looking woman in a white lab coat strode in, her heels snapping against the floor like gunfire. Her gaze landed on Valerie, and she froze. "What the hell! She's drugged, isn't she? Mr. President, what in the world did you do this time?"

"You really don't value your life, do you?" Leland's words came out low and chilling.

Emma's mouth snapped shut. She bent over Valerie's wrist instead, her expression tightening as she examined the wound.

"This gash is severe. Give it a few more minutes and she would've bled out. She needs sutures right now. We should get her to a hospital."

"That'll take too long. Bring her to my medical suite upstairs," Leland replied, his tone clipped and final.

Shock rooted Emma to the spot, disbelief flickering across her face as she stared at him. "That's the presidential facility. The moment you take her there, every reporter in this city will claim she's your future wife. Mr. President, I'd seriously reconsider that if I were you!"

Leland didn't spare her a glance. He dipped down, gathered Valerie against his chest, and strode for the door with a cold, unwavering purpose.

Out in the hallway, the entire floor had already been swept clean. Guests were gone. Only hotel staff and his security team remained, standing in two perfect lines like they were awaiting a procession.

Leland crossed the threshold with Valerie held firmly in his arms, her body cocooned in a blanket, her face hidden from every curious eye.

A hush rolled through the corridor the moment he appeared. The only sound that followed was the low, measured thud of his steps-each one landing with a weight that made every person in his path forget to breathe.