Chapter 03

VALERIE

I woke up with my neck bent wrong and my mouth dry like I'd swallowed sand.

For a long second, I didn't move. I just lay there on the leather couch in the VIP room, staring at the ceiling lights that were still dimmed like the night never ended. My head was pounding in slow, mean pulses. My body felt heavy. Used. Sore in really intimate places

Then flashes started coming back. Hands. Heat. A mouth on mine. "Angel"

"Oh God," I muttered, dragging a hand down my face.

I sat up a bit too quickly causing the room to spin just enough to make me groan. My thighs pressed together and I sucked in a sharp breath, the ache between my legs brought back more memories to the surface.

"What the fuck," I whispered.

I looked around as panic began crawling up my throat. My clothes were folded neatly on the chair. My heels by the door. The room smelled like sex a lot of sex.

I pushed myself off the couch just as the bathroom door opened.

A man walked out, buttoning his shirt. Every man I'd seen before collapsed into static the moment he stepped out of that bathroom.

Water slid down his throat as he lifted a bottle to his mouth, Adam's apple moving slowly, the kind of motion that could make any women reconsider their life choices. He had broad shoulders. Narrow waist. Tattoos disappearing under crisp white fabric like secrets he'd let me see hours ago.

And his face... God.

I'd seen thousands of men and none of them came close.

His dark eyes met mine; assessing me. The corner of his mouth tilted a little as he said. "Morning, angel."

My spine stiffened. His lethal face card, that Greek god like body, his voice. This man wasn't just sex appeal.

He was sex itself.

Suddenly I realised I had sex with this stranger last night. He took advantage of me in my drunk state. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I shouted, rushing toward him without thinking.

He looked up, startled for half a second, then annoyed.

"Look Mr—" I shoved at his chest, hard. "Whoever the fuck you are; just because I strip doesn't mean I'm open for sex. You– you clown ass took advantage of me."

He caught my wrists easily, fingers firm but not rough, and pulled my hands down. "Lower your voice."

"Don't tell me what to do!" I snapped. " You knew I wasn't sober and you took advantage of that."

His jaw tightened. "You're kidding."

"I'm not," I said, shaking. "I barely remember half of it."

He let go of me like I disgusted him. "Wow."

"Wow?" I laughed harshly. "Is that all you have to say?"

"I'm used to women trying to take advantage of me," he said flatly. "I wasn't expecting a stripper to be this ill-mannered in the morning."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said, reaching for his jacket. "And don't pretend you didn't know what you were doing."

"I didn't do anything," I shot back. "I danced. That's my job."

"My men tested the drinks," he cut in. "Viagra. Strong dose." I felt like the floor dropped out from under me. "What?"

"My drink was spiked," he said calmly. "So you can spare me the innocent act, it's boring."

My mouth opened, then closed. I replayed the night in my head and realised... "But I brought the drinks. I didn't spike anything. I swear."

"Of course you didn't." sarcasm.

"Someone set me up," I said, panic creeping in. "I wouldn't—"

"I don't care," he interrupted, already moving toward the door. "You got what you wanted."

He stopped, reached into his wallet, and tossed a thick stack of bills onto the couch. "For your service."

I stared at the money, something hot and bitter burning in my chest. "Oh hell no," I said. He turned, eyebrow raised like no one had ever spoken to him that way before.

I grabbed the cash and threw it back at him. It hit his chest and scattered to the floor. "I don't need your dirty money," I snapped. "And for someone who acts like women are throwing themselves at him, you sure looked desperate last night."

His eyes darkened.

"You think you're special?" I went on. "You think every woman wants a piece of you? Newsflash—you're not that impressive. You just caught me on the worst night of my life."

The room went dead quiet. He stared at me like he couldn't believe I was real. "Get out," he said slowly.

"Gladly," I shot back, grabbing my clothes. "Try not to choke on your own ego. Asshole." I stormed past him and didn't look back.

I changed in record time. I pulled on my regular clothes for my day job. Plain jeans, a hoodie and sneakers with worn soles. This was me. This was my life.

I caught my reflection in the mirror and looked away.

Pathetic. That's what this was.

I lived a tightly controlled double life for a reason. Because chaos always cost too much.

I was orphaned young. Too young to understand why my father lost his company to a scam fueled by alcohol, why the court cleared his name only after it destroyed him. Too young to save my mother when grief swallowed her whole and she followed him to death.

I automatically had the responsibility of raising my little brother. Then I naively thought I could handle the finances and study law at Harvard.

That delusion was built on pure stubbornness and brains until reality tore it away from me. Now, I'm a college drop out who cleans floors by day and then danced at night behind a mask. I never let men touch me. Never let desire turn into debt.

Until him. I hated him for it.

At my cleaning job, my mind wouldn't quiet down. I missed spots. Got snapped at by my supervisor and all because my hands kept replaying the feel of him and my thighs won't stop rubbing together.

Dominic Cantrell.

The name burned in my head. I'd seen it on the card before the VIP room. Curiosity won, and I googled him on my phone in the break room.

Of course, he was a billionaire heir. New head of Cantrell Industries. The more I researched on him, the more I hated him. A narcisstic snub with enough scandals with various women to give him an entire p**n website.

Of course.

I locked my phone and swallowed hard. I didn't belong anywhere near someone like him, I needed to avoid him. At the club. In this city. Everywhere.

My phone suddenly rang and I answered without looking. "Hello?"

"Is this Valerie Locke?" a voice asked.

"Yes," I said slowly.

"You need to come down to the police station. Your brother's been arrested." Everything inside me went cold.

"What?!"