"Do you realize what you've done?" Hill whispers as she passes. "He's going to kill you tonight. And it won't be fast."

Gabrielle swallows and says, "I can look out for myself."

The words are bold, but her legs are shaking. As the adrenaline from the fight fades, she finds herself overwhelmed with fear. If it weren't for the burly guard, she'd have collapsed onto the floor. The room spins, and Hill's worried face seems to dance in front of her.

"Don't misunderstand the situation," Hill says. "You're not special to Mr. Oliver. He doesn't love you, and he won't be coming to save you. In fact, he just texted me the room he wants you to. He knows what Mr. West is going to do to you, and he doesn't care."

The guard drags her down the hall, and her plastic shoes make a dull scraping sound against the black marble floors. Hill walks behind, lecturing her. His voice is loud and high-pitched, and doors along the hall start to open, and girls poke their faces out.

"What's wrong with you, Gabrielle?" Hill asks. "Why would you attack a guest like that? And of all the guests to attack, why would you choose David West? It's probably too late now, but I'm going to give you some advice. The second he comes into that room, do your very best to please him. If he can get enough pleasure from you, he just might leave you alive."

The girls whisper and nudge each other, and Gabrielle realizes that Hill is making an example of her. He wants all the girls to see what happens when they dare to challenge a guest. The hallway has never seemed longer.

Hill opens a door, and the bodyguard reaches into his pocket. He takes a length of rope and ties it around her ankles and then ties another around her wrists. She shakes her head and whimpers, but he ignores her. He takes a soft piece of black cloth and ties it tight around her eyes. The room goes black, the guard shoves her, and she falls onto a plush bed.

The men leave the room, and she's alone with the sound of her breathing. The longer she waits, the faster it becomes. And then she hears the sound of heavy steps and the slight creak of the bed springs as a man sits down on the bed. Strong hands circle her calves and pull her down toward the foot of the bed. He slides his hands up her bare legs, and he digs his thumbs into her hips before flipping her onto her stomach.

She whimpers, and he chuckles under his breath. She feels his weight and warmth on her back, and then he takes her ear in his teeth. She clenches her jaw and waits for the pain—wondering if he's going to bite her ear off like some sort of rabid dog. But the pain never comes. He nibbles the tender skin and then bites and nips at her neck.

A loud ripping sound fills the room, and cool air touches her skin as he tears the short velvet dress off her body. His large palms are warm and smooth on the naked skin of her back and her groans. His hands slide down to her ass, and he rips the flimsy lace down the middle, tugging the scraps away. He shifts his weight and reaches under her, teasing her most intimate area with long, slow fingers. She grinds her hips down, pressing herself against his hand, and he laughs again.

The laugh sounds familiar—not like David's sadistic chuckle, but like someone else. She tries to think who he sounds like, but he slips a finger inside her, and her mind goes blank. His other hand reaches under to knead her bare breast, and his mouth finds her neck.

"Oh, David," she moans.

He stops kissing her neck, and he pulls his finger out. She freezes—worried she'd offended him. The bed creaks as his weight shifts, and he rips the blindfold from her eyes. The dim yellow lights of the room are blinding, and she squints her eyes in pain. She blinks, cranes her neck, and sees Jackson looking over her.

"You're not David," she says, feeling stupid as soon as the words leave your mouth.

"Do you wish I was?" he asks.

"N-no," she says. "Of course not."

"Good," he says. "I don't want to hear another man's name on your lips while I fuck you."

"I thought you didn't care who fucked me," she says, letting the hurt and fear creep into her voice. "I thought you didn't care about me at all."

Jackson shakes his head, and his curly blonde hair falls into his eyes. He pushes it back and grins at her—the expression is charming, almost boyish. She looks down at his bare chest and watches as his ab muscles ripple and flex. He's wearing nothing but his underwear, and the erection straining against the fabric is all man.

He takes her wrists in his hands and undoes the knot with expert fingers. Then he bends down and unties her ankles. She flips onto her back and flexes her feet and hands as the blood rushes back. He lays back on the bed and watches her through lazy, half-lidded eyes.

"Let's try something new this time," she says, grabbing the black blindfold. "I've had many lessons here, and I want to see if I've been a good student."

She reaches for his face, stroking his brow bone with her fingertip. He sighs and closes his eyes, and she drapes the fabric across his eyelids. His hand shoots into the air, and he grabs her wrist.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"I'm trying to please you," she says.

"And just how are you going to do that?" he asks.

"That's part of the surprise," she says.

She leans forward and nuzzles his face like a kitten, and he loosens his grip on her wrist. She ties the blindfold in a knot behind his head and runs her nails lightly across his scalp. He bites his lip and reaches for her, but she dodges him. She kisses his neck and then moves her mouth down to his chest, sliding her lips from his hard tanned pecs to his abs. She stops just above the waistband of his underwear and his groans.

"Stop teasing," he says.

"Only when I'm ready," she whispers.

The teachers taught her to drag it out, to make the man crazy with desire first, but she feels herself losing patience. There's a fire burning in her middle, and it's making her blood boil. She straddles him and presses her bare chest against his, enjoying the warmth between their bodies. Then she lifts herself up, yanks his underwear off, and slowly slides down until he's completely inside her.

She circles her hips, and a breathy moan escaped her lips. His hands fumble through the air and land on her breasts, and he squeezes and pinches them in time with her grinding. The pleasure builds inside her, becoming unbearable, and then she explodes. His grip tightens, and his body goes rigid as he finishes inside her.

He pulls the blindfold off with one hand and looks up at her. His eyes flash, and in an instant, he grabs her by the shoulders, pushes her to the bed and lands on top of her. She can feel him growing excited again.

"So, how did you like it?" she asks.

"I'd say you've been a very good student," he says.

"I'm glad I made you happy," she says, feeling a rush of joy at his praise. She flutters her eyelashes and adds, "I hope you'll consider adding a generous tip when you pay me tonight."

"I'll pay you what you're worth," he says. "More too, if it means you won't serve any other men. I don't like to share."

Jackson stands and picks his underwear up off the floor. She slides under the wrinkled duvet and pulls the silk blanket up to her chin, watching him as he dresses. His long legs, leanly muscled torso, and powerful arms make her want to leap out of bed and wrap herself around him. He looks like an ancient statue come to life.

He finishes dressing and walks toward the door. Something in her chest aches, and she shakes her head against the soft pillow, trying to get rid of the mushy thoughts she's having.

"Wait," she says.

His hand hovers over the doorknob, and he turns to look at her.

"It was good to see you," she whispers, feeling her cheeks flush pink.

He smiles and opens the door.

Robert slaps a thick document onto Evan's desk. Evan finishes signing his name on the current business contract and takes a look at the new packet. The first page looks like a company equity transfer. He flips it open, wondering which company is being transferred. The name feels like a punch to the gut—the Zuri Hotel, Avery's hotel.

"Miss Peters sent this over and asked you to have a look," Robert says. "She said she wanted you to have the first chance at it. But if you're not interested, she warned me she'd transfer it to others who are."

"How much money does she want for it?" Evan asks.

"Two hundred million," Robert answers.

"Two hundred million?" Evan asks. "It's barely worth twenty million, and she knows that."

Robert shrugs and asks, "What would you like me to do?"

"Make an appointment with her," Evan says. "I want to know why she needs two hundred million dollars."