The heat burned through her veins like boiling acid.
Serena Vance stumbled over the plush carpet in the hallway of the luxurious Diamond Hotel, panting heavily. Her vision was blurry.
Isabella, you bitch! Serena cursed inwardly, digging her nails into the palm of her hand. The sharp pain was the only thing keeping her conscious.
Her half-sister had clinked her champagne glass at the engagement party downstairs. Serena had heard Isabella whisper with a laugh that the old, disgusting Director Miller was waiting for her in room 402.
She'd rather die than be touched by that repulsive man.
With trembling legs, Serena fled to the top floor of the hotel. The presidential suite. The hallway was eerily deserted and silent.
Her body was on fire. The aphrodisiac was too strong. She needed cold water. She needed to hide.
Her hand knocked against the heavy oak door of Suite 8888. To her surprise, the door gave way with a soft click. It was unlocked.
Serena didn't think twice. She stumbled inside and locked the door behind her, pressing her forehead against the cold wood.
The room was plunged into complete darkness. The heavy curtains blocked out any light from the city.
"Who's there?" A deep, incredibly cold male voice cut through the silence.
Serena gasped. Her heart skipped a beat.
There was a man in the dark. And his voice sounded dangerous. Deadly.
"I-I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice coming out weak and shaky. "I walked into the wrong room. I'll be right out."
She tried to turn the doorknob, but her hands had no strength. Her legs finally gave out, and she slid to the floor with a thud.
Heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed across the carpet. The man was approaching.
In the dark, Serena could only make out the tall, imposing silhouette of a predatory beast.
"Get out," the man ordered. His voice was harsh, laced with pent-up tension. "Now."
Julian Blackwood closed his eyes tightly, fighting the fire consuming his own body. His rivals had been bold enough to use an experimental drug in his car's air conditioning.
He had barely made it to his suite. His blood was boiling. His self-control, famed for being unshakable, was hanging by a thread.
And now, the sweet, heady scent of vanilla and jasmine filled the room. It came from the woman lying on the floor of his living room.
"I… I can't," Serena murmured, a moan of pain and despair escaping her lips. "Please… help me."
That small moan was the trigger he needed.
Julian's last thread of sanity snapped completely.
He bent down quickly. His large, warm hands gripped Serena's delicate shoulders.
The shock of his skin against hers was like electricity. Serena gasped, her traitorous body leaning into the stranger's touch.
"You asked for this," he growled against her ear, his hoarse voice sending shivers down Serena's spine.
She wanted to fight. She should fight. But Isabella's poison had stolen her mind, replacing all reason with pure, primal desire.
In the pitch black, hot, demanding lips captured hers.
There was no gentleness, only a devouring hunger on both sides. They were two castaways drowning in a sea of flames, using each other as a lifeline.
Serena didn't see his face. He didn't see hers.
But that night, under the cloak of darkness, the ruined heiress and the king of the corporate empire became one.
The faint morning light seeped through a crack in the curtains.
Serena opened her eyes slowly. Her head was throbbing. Every bone in her body felt as if it had been crushed and put back together again.
The memory of the previous night hit her like a speeding train.
She sat up abruptly in bed, pulling the sheet to cover her naked body. Her eyes widened in sheer panic.
Beside her, a man slept face down. His broad, muscular back was marked by red scratches. Her scratches.
His face was turned away, half-buried in the white pillows.
What have I done? Serena covered her mouth with her hands to stifle a sob. I slept with a stranger!
Tears stung her eyes. Isabella had won, after all. Her innocence had been taken in the dark.
But she wouldn't stay there to find out who the monster was, or worse, to let him humiliate her when he woke up.
Her hands shaking violently, Serena gathered her clothes scattered across the floor. Her designer dress was torn at the hem.
She dressed as quickly as she could in complete silence. Every click of a buckle sounded like a thunderclap in the silent room.
Before rushing to the door, she felt a weight missing from her neck.
Her necklace. The silver chain with her mother's old coat of arms.
Serena frantically scanned the room. The pendant was caught in the crumpled sheet, right beneath the sleeping man's strong arm.
If she tried to grab it, he would wake up.
"To hell with the necklace. I need to live," she whispered to herself.
Serena turned the doorknob and fled Suite 8888, running through the hotel corridors like a desperate ghost who should never have existed.
Half an hour later, in the suite plunged into silence, the sheets shifted.
Julian Blackwood opened his eyes. His dark, dangerous eyes, cold as the bottom of a frozen ocean, flickered against the morning light.
He rolled over in bed and reached out. The space beside him was empty. Cold.
Julian sat up abruptly, his expression turning murderous.
The woman had fled. After using him all night as her personal antidote, she had simply slipped away.
He ran his hands through his dark, tousled hair. Suddenly, cold metal brushed against his leg.
Julian looked down. His long fingers grasped the small silver chain that was tangled in the sheets.
A small lotus-shaped crest glinted in the sunlight.
The suite door burst open. Luke, his chief assistant, rushed in with two armed security guards, his face pale with terror.
"Mr. Blackwood! Thank God you're safe. We searched all night; the assassins who sabotaged your car have been captured, but you…"
Luke's voice caught in his throat when he saw his boss's disheveled state and the scratches on his back. The president had always been a man who didn't allow women to get close to him. What had happened there?
Julian clenched the silver bracelet on his wrist until his knuckles turned white. A domineering and terrifying aura filled the entire room.
He raised his head, his eyes flashing with a possessiveness that could set the world ablaze.
"Luke," Julian's voice was a lethal growl. "Secure this hotel immediately. Check all the security cameras. Find out who owns this necklace."
Luke swallowed hard, trembling. "Yes, sir. And what will we do with her when we find her?"
Julian looked at the necklace in his hand, his lips curving into a cold, chilling smile.
"Bring her to me," he whispered dangerously. "Even if you have to turn this city upside down. She ran away from my bed… and she's going to pay for it."