Reborn Heiress: Claimed By The Ruthless Boss

The heat in her veins did not feel like a fever. It felt like liquid magma.

Giana gasped, her eyes snapping open. Her vision blurred against the stark white ceiling of the hotel suite. She tried to pull her hands into fists, but her fingers felt like wet sand.

The drug was fully in her system.

Memories of her past life-the cold floor, the sound of her own ribs cracking, the final agonizing breath-stabbed into her brain. She bit down on her lower lip. She bit hard. The sharp, metallic taste of blood flooded her tongue, forcing a sliver of clarity through the chemical haze.

She needed to move. She rolled to her side, pushing against the heavy velvet comforter, but her arms gave out. She collapsed back into the pillows. The fabric smelled of the clean scent of soap and a sharp, masculine sandalwood from a heavy body wash.

The frosted glass door of the bathroom swung open.

Thick steam rolled into the bedroom. Cornel Stark stepped out. He wore a black robe tied loosely at his waist. Water dripped from his dark hair onto his broad shoulders.

Giana's heart spasmed. Her chest tightened so fast she couldn't pull in oxygen. She scrambled backward on the mattress until her spine slammed hard against the wooden headboard.

Cornel stopped. His gray eyes locked onto her. He expected to see a drugged, compliant woman. Instead, he saw the raw, pulsing terror in her chest, followed instantly by a cold, calculated clarity.

He narrowed his eyes.

He tossed the damp towel into a single armchair. He walked toward the bed. Every step he took seemed to suck the air out of the massive room.

Giana's lungs burned. She remembered fighting him in her past life. She remembered how her screams only made him more brutal.

She forced her hands to uncurl. She let them rest open on the sheets. She relaxed her shoulders, exposing the long line of her neck.

Cornel placed one knee on the edge of the mattress. The bed dipped violently under his dense weight. Gravity pulled Giana's body down the slope, sliding her directly toward his chest.

His large, rough hand shot out. His fingers clamped around her jaw. The pressure was immense, grinding against her bone.

"Get out," he said. His voice was a low, gravelly threat.

Pain shot through her face. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she didn't thrash. She didn't scream. Instead, she leaned into his grip. She tilted her chin up higher, offering herself to him.

Cornel froze. The muscles in his jaw ticked. His grip on her face loosened just a fraction of an inch.

It was enough. Giana fought through the heavy nausea of the drug. She lifted her trembling arms and wrapped them around his thick neck.

Her skin was burning. The moment her feverish hands touched the cold silk of his robe, Cornel's entire body went rigid. His muscles locked like steel. His gray eyes darkened to the color of a storm.

He grabbed her wrist, twisting it to rip her off him.

Giana didn't pull back. She used his momentum to drag herself closer. She buried her face into the curve of his neck. Her hot breath washed over his carotid artery.

A violent surge of anger flashed in Cornel's eyes. He flipped her over, pinning her flat against the mattress. His massive frame trapped her completely.

Giana stared up at him. Her eyes were wide, glassy, and desperate.

The drug spiked again, sending a violent tremor through her core. A soft, broken moan slipped past her bloody lips.

Cornel stared at her flushed cheeks. He saw the unnatural dilation of her pupils. He knew exactly what was running through her blood.

He let out a harsh laugh and pushed off the bed to leave.

Giana wrapped her legs tight around his waist. The friction of her bare skin against his pants stopped him dead.

"Help me," she whispered. Her voice was wrecked.

The last thread of Cornel's control snapped.

He slammed his mouth down onto hers. It wasn't a kiss. It was a punishment. His teeth clashed against hers. The taste of her blood coated his tongue.

Giana sucked in a sharp breath through her nose as the pain hit her, but she dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer.

His large hands grabbed the neckline of her thin evening gown. He pulled his fists apart. The fabric ripped down the middle with a loud, violent tear. The cool air hit her bare skin.

He took her with a brutal, unforgiving force.

A tearing pain ripped through Giana's lower body. Black spots danced in her vision. She opened her mouth to scream, but she bit down on his shoulder instead. She sank her teeth into his skin, swallowing her own agony.

Cornel felt the sharp bite. The defiance in her silence fueled the fire in his blood. He moved faster, harder, dragging her into the center of the storm.

Hours later, the drug and the pain finally broke her. Giana's fingers went limp against the sheets. Her eyes rolled back, and she passed out completely.

The room went dead silent.

Cornel pushed himself up. His chest heaved. He looked down at the girl. Her skin was covered in red marks. Her lips were swollen and bruised. But her face was completely peaceful.

Normally, he would call his security team. He would have them wrap her in a blanket and dump her in an alley.

Instead, he reached down and pulled the heavy velvet comforter over her bare shoulders.

He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. He pulled a silver lighter from his pocket and lit a cigar. He blew a thick cloud of smoke against the glass. He looked back at the bed. He was going to stay. He wanted to see what this girl would do when she woke up.

The morning sun sliced through the blinds, stabbing directly into Giana's eyes.

She groaned and tried to open them. A crushing ache radiated through every muscle in her body. It felt like her bones had been ground into powder.

She took a sharp breath, but the movement stretched her split lip. A sharp sting made her wince.

She turned her head.

Cornel sat in the single armchair in the corner of the room. His gray eyes were locked onto her.

Giana's heart skipped a beat. Her stomach dropped.

He wore dark gray dress pants. The first three buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone. He held a silver lighter in his hand. He flipped the metal lid open and closed.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

The sound echoed in the quiet room, heavy and threatening.

Giana remembered her past life. She remembered waking up, screaming, throwing things at him. She remembered how that had ended.

She swallowed the lump of panic in her throat. She forced herself to look him dead in the eye.

She didn't pull the comforter up to hide her chest. She pushed herself up into a sitting position. The blanket fell to her waist. The dark bruises on her collarbones were fully exposed to the cold air.

Cornel's thumb stopped on the lighter. His eyes narrowed.

Giana looked at the floor. Her evening gown was shredded into useless strips of fabric.

She threw the comforter off. She stepped onto the thick wool rug barefoot. She ignored the soreness between her thighs and walked straight to the foot of the bed. Cornel had left a spare white dress shirt draped over the bench.

Cornel didn't move. He watched the curve of her spine. He watched the way she walked. A dark, heavy possessiveness began to coil in his gut.

Giana pulled the oversized shirt over her shoulders. The cold silk sent a shiver down her spine. The hem fell just below her thighs.

She started buttoning the shirt, starting from the bottom. Her movements were slow and steady. She acted like she was completely alone in the room.

"You think you can walk out of here wearing my clothes?" Cornel's voice was a low rumble.

Giana's fingers paused on the third button. She took a slow breath, filling her lungs, and turned around. She forced the corners of her mouth up into a lazy smirk.

"Mr. Stark, we are both adults. It was just friends with benefits."

Cornel's face went completely hard.

He stood up. His massive frame blocked out the sunlight from the window. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

He closed the distance between them in three long strides.

Giana stepped back instinctively. Her shoulder blades hit the cold wall.

Cornel slammed his hand against the drywall right next to her ear. He leaned in. His chest almost brushed against hers.

"Friends with benefits?" He let out a harsh breath that hit her nose. "What exactly did you benefit from me? The right to wear my shirt and walk out of my life?"

Giana's pupils dilated. Her chest tightened. He was too close to the truth.

She forced a short laugh from her throat.

"I took one night from the most expensive man in New York. I'd say I made a profit." She tilted her chin up, refusing to break eye contact.

Cornel stared at her defiant eyes. His throat went dry. The memory of how she tasted last night hit him like a physical blow.

He dropped his hand from the wall and grabbed her waist. He yanked her forward. Her body crashed into his solid chest.

Giana gasped. She shoved her hands against his chest, trying to push him away. She could feel his heart hammering against her palms.

"If you made a profit, why don't we make another deal?" His voice was thick and raspy. His eyes dropped to her bruised lips.

Giana knew she was losing control of the situation. She jerked her head to the side, dodging his mouth. His lips brushed against her cheek instead.

"Sorry, Mr. Stark. I don't eat the same dish twice." She pushed hard against his shoulders.

Cornel's jaw clenched. The rejection hit his ego like a sledgehammer.

He grabbed her wrist. His fingers dug into her skin, cutting off her circulation.

He turned and dragged her toward the bathroom.

Giana stumbled over her own feet trying to keep up. The oversized shirt slipped off one shoulder.

Cornel kicked the bathroom door open with his heavy boot. The wood slammed against the wall with a deafening crack. He pulled her inside and shoved her backward. Her lower back hit the edge of the marble sink.

The freezing marble bit through the thin silk shirt, sending a violent shudder down Giana's spine. She gripped the edge of the sink with both hands and tried to push herself up.

Cornel stepped into her space. He forced his knee between her thighs, pinning her hips against the stone counter. She couldn't move an inch.

"Let me go, you psycho!" Giana yelled. Her calm facade shattered. She raised her right hand and swung it toward his face.

Cornel caught her wrist in mid-air. He twisted her arm behind her back and shoved her chest flush against his. A cruel smile touched his lips.

"Women who try to slap me in this city usually end up at the bottom of the river," he whispered against her ear. His breath was hot, but the words froze the blood in her veins.

The memory of his past cruelty flashed in her mind. Her body went completely rigid. She stopped fighting.

Cornel felt the strength leaving her body. A dark sense of satisfaction spread through his chest. He continued to press her arms behind her back and reached for her phone with his other hand.

Giana twisted her torso, trying to get away from his hand. It was useless.

He pulled out her cracked iPhone.

"Passcode," he demanded. He shoved the screen in front of her face.

Giana clamped her mouth shut and turned her head away.

Cornel scoffed. He grabbed her right hand, isolated her thumb, and pressed it hard against the home button.

The phone unlocked with a soft click.

He tapped the screen rapidly. A second later, a custom black phone sitting on the bathroom counter began to vibrate.

Cornel ended the call. He typed something into her phone and tossed it onto the sink next to her.

Giana looked down. The screen showed a new contact saved. The name read: Little Trouble.

Her stomach churned with disgust. "Little Trouble? You are Nauseous."

"Nauseous?" Cornel grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "You weren't calling me sick when you were begging under me last night."

Humiliation burned in Giana's chest. She opened her mouth and sank her teeth into the thick muscle of his hand, right between his thumb and index finger.

Cornel frowned, but he didn't pull his hand away. He stood perfectly still and let her bite him.

The taste of copper filled Giana's mouth. The fact that he wasn't fighting back terrified her more than his anger. She slowly opened her jaw and let go.

"Done?" Cornel looked down at the deep, bleeding teeth marks on his hand. His eyes were entirely black.

He ducked his head and crashed his mouth against hers. He tasted his own blood on her lips. He kissed her with a punishing, suffocating force.

Giana couldn't breathe. She pounded her fists against his shoulders, but hitting his solid muscle felt like punching a brick wall.

The temperature in the small bathroom spiked. Cornel slid his hand up the back of her thigh, gripping bare skin.

"No... I have to go..." Giana choked out against his mouth.

A single tear spilled over her eyelashes and dropped onto the back of his hand.

The warm drop of water hit Cornel's skin like acid. He froze. He pulled his mouth away and stared down at her red, watery eyes. His chest heaved. He fought the violent urge to throw her on the floor and take her again.

"Get out," he growled. He stepped back, dropping his hands to his sides.

Giana grabbed her phone. She didn't look back. She scrambled out of the bathroom and ran for the suite door.

The heavy door slammed shut.

Cornel stood alone in the bathroom. He looked at the bloody bite mark on his hand. He slowly lifted his hand to his mouth and licked the blood off his skin.

He walked out of the bathroom,He picked up his black phone from the counter and dialed a number.

"Dave," Cornel said, staring out the window at the Manhattan skyline. "A girl just left my room. Put eyes on her. Find out everything."