Chapter 1

The first thing Avery Morgan noticed about the man across the room was the way people feared him.

Not respected. Not admired. Feared.

It lingered in the stiff postures of the men speaking to him. In the nervous smiles of the women who tried too hard to catch his attention. Even the servers moved carefully around him, as though one wrong step might cost them their jobs.

And somehow—despite the suffocating luxury of the Montenegro Grand Casino, despite the glittering chandeliers and the sound of expensive laughter filling the air—he looked like the darkest thing in the room.

Drake Montenegro.

Owner of the most powerful business empire in the country. The man rumored to destroy competitors without mercy. The same man the tabloids called a monster dressed in Armani.

She should have looked away the moment their eyes met.

But she didn't.

She stood frozen near the champagne tower while his gaze dragged slowly over her body—unapologetically thorough, as though he already owned every inch of her.

Heat crawled up her neck.

God.

There should honestly be laws against men looking like that.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Sharp jawline. A black suit tailored perfectly against his muscular frame. His dark hair was slightly messy in a way that felt intentional, and the silver watch on his wrist probably cost more than a year's rent on her apartment.

But it was his eyes that unsettled her most.

Cold. Calculated. Predatory.

The kind of eyes that made a woman feel naked even in a room full of people.

"Avery?"

She blinked and turned toward her best friend, Chloe, who was staring at her with open concern. "You look like you just saw the devil."

Avery swallowed hard before grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing tray. "Maybe I did."

Chloe followed her gaze and immediately groaned. "Oh no. Don't tell me you're staring at Drake Montenegro."

"Was I staring?"

"You were practically undressing him with your eyes."

Avery took a long sip of champagne. "Can you blame me?"

Chloe rolled her eyes dramatically. "Every woman in this room wants him. That should already be a warning sign."

"I'm not interested."

"That's a lie."

Okay. Fine.

Maybe she was a little interested.

It was difficult not to be when the man looked like sin wrapped in expensive fabric.

Still, men like Drake Montenegro weren't meant for women like her. She hadn't been born into wealth. She didn't belong at elite parties filled with politicians, billionaires, and models pretending not to hate each other. She was only here because her publishing company had forced her to attend and convince investors to fund their next project.

Simple. Professional. No distractions.

Unfortunately, Drake Montenegro looked exactly like one.

As if sensing their conversation, he tilted his head slightly, then lifted a glass of whiskey toward her.

A silent acknowledgment.

Avery's stomach tightened.

Then he smirked.

Not a friendly smirk. Not flirtatious either.

It looked dangerous.

Like he knew something she didn't.

"Avery," Chloe whispered urgently, "do not flirt with that man."

"I wasn't planning to."

"Good. Because I heard he ruins women."

Avery laughed softly. "That sounds dramatic."

"I'm serious." Chloe lowered her voice. "One of my clients worked for his company before. Apparently women become obsessed with him. And then suddenly they disappear from his life like they never existed."

"That sounds more like heartbreak than murder."

"You joke too much."

Avery glanced toward Drake again.

Huge mistake.

Because he was already walking toward her.

Every conversation around them seemed to quiet with each step he took. People moved aside naturally, creating space for him without being asked.

Power.

That was the only word that fit him.

Raw, terrifying power.

When he finally stopped in front of her, the scent of his cologne wrapped around her immediately. Dark. Addictive. Masculine.

"Mr. Montenegro," Chloe greeted awkwardly.

His attention never left Avery's face.

"Leave us," he said calmly.

Chloe looked personally offended. "Excuse me?"

"Avery and I need to talk."

Avery's brows lifted. "We do?"

His gaze darkened slightly.

"Yes."

The confidence in his voice should have irritated her. Instead, her pulse skipped.

Chloe shot her a warning look before reluctantly walking away, leaving her alone with the most dangerous man in the city.

Drake studied her quietly for a few seconds before speaking again.

"You've been watching me all night."

Straightforward. Arrogant. Annoyingly accurate.

Avery crossed her arms. "And you've been watching me."

His eyes slowly dropped to her crossed arms, lingering on the curve of her chest before returning to her face.

"I like looking at beautiful things."

The words were smooth enough to melt most women instantly. She refused to let him see their effect on her.

"You use that line often?"

"No." His voice deepened slightly. "Only when I mean it."

Her breath caught embarrassingly fast.

Damn him.

Up close, he was even more overwhelming. Every movement controlled. Every expression deliberate. Like he knew exactly how attractive he was and had weaponized it against people. Against women. Against her.

"So," she said carefully, "what exactly do you want to talk about?"

A faint smile touched his lips.

"You."

The air suddenly felt too warm.

Avery laughed nervously. "That's vague."

"I know who you are, Avery Morgan." His voice remained calm, but something beneath it made her skin prickle. "Assistant editor at Veridian Publishing. Twenty-six years old. Lives alone. Coffee addict. Bad habit of biting your lower lip when you're nervous."

She immediately stopped biting her lip.

What the hell?

Her heart pounded harder.

"How do you know all that?"

Instead of answering, Drake stepped closer.

Too close.

Close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough to ruin her ability to think clearly.

"You should be more careful," he murmured. "Men notice things about women like you."

"Women like me?"

"Tempting women."

The way he said it made her stomach twist dangerously.

She should have walked away right then. She should have ignored the thrill rushing through her veins.

But before she could respond, someone crashed into her from behind.

The champagne glass slipped from her fingers.

She gasped as her heel twisted painfully against the marble floor—but strong hands caught her waist before she could fall.

Drake's hands.

Her body pressed against his chest.

His grip tightened instantly.

And for one reckless second, neither of them moved.

The entire room disappeared around her. All she could hear was her own heartbeat. All she could feel was his hand slowly sliding against the bare skin of her back.

Then his mouth lowered dangerously close to her ear.

"Careful, Avery," he whispered roughly. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."