Christopher Bryant tossed out casually, "These are brand new."

Juliette Weaver eyed the black leggings that fit her like they were made for her. "How much? I'll send you the money."

"Forty-five hundred," he replied, a smug air clinging to his words.

Juliette hesitated, utterly confused.

"What, can't afford it?" Christopher grinned at her, all taunt. "All that talk about money, and you can't even pay up?"

Juliette felt her face flame with embarrassment. It was the first time someone she considered beneath her had made her feel this small.

"You've got to be kidding me!" She didn't believe him, so she whipped out her phone and looked it up. Sure enough, they were forty-five hundred bucks.

Could guys like him really throw around this kind of cash?

"If you can't pay, maybe we can work out another arrangement," Christopher joked, giving her waistband a light tug. "I'm quite a fan of that."

Juliette clenched her jaw in frustration, just as a notification popped up on her phone—a refund of a thousand dollars. "Keep it, and buy some cheaper ones. I like tearing those off you," Christopher chuckled.

"You!" Juliette fumed, the word barely out before Christopher's phone rang.

She saw the caller ID: Gunner Bryant!

What on earth was Gunner's connection to Christopher?

Seizing the moment as Christopher took the call, she leaned in to eavesdrop.

Gunner's respectful voice filtered through, "I've had the suspect arrested. Could we meet tonight if you're available...?"

Before Juliette could catch another word, Christopher snagged her. His strong hand tilted her chin up, pulling her face to his. He kissed her deep and demanding, leaving zero room for protest.

"Mm~" Juliette couldn't help the soft moan that escaped her, robbed of breath by the force of his kiss.

As he wrapped her in his embrace, she shoved at his shoulders, desperate to break free.

"No~ stop!"

Over the phone, Gunner seemed to pick up on something. "Hey! Who's that...?" he asked, unease creeping into his voice.

Before he could finish, Christopher ended the call with a sharp click.

In his office, Gunner stared at the blank screen, those soft sounds still echoing in his skull—and they chilled him straight to the bone, because they reminded him way too much of Juliette.

He glanced toward the administration office, but Juliette's desk stayed empty. Ever since she came back, she hadn't shown up to work.

A heavy unease settled over him like a weight as he dialed her number.

"Where are you?" he demanded the instant she picked up, the memory of that arrest still fresh in her mind.

"What do you want?"

"Juliette, are you still pissed at me?" Gunner's voice dropped from its earlier chill to a plea. "I know I was way out of line this morning—total screw-up on my part. The company's going public, and the stress is eating me alive. Sometimes I say crap I don't mean. Please, let's just drop the anger, okay?"

That relentless persistence—it had always been Gunner's go-to move with Juliette, and the one she could never fully resist.

He needed her to link up with Christopher Bryant, that mysterious uncle from the Bryant family—a ghost almost, rarely seen or whispered about in public, his very existence wrapped in shadow. The world only knew his loyal right hand, Everlee Richardson. To claw his way up the social ladder, Gunner had to meet Christopher, and more than that, score his endorsement so he could slide seamlessly into the Bryant bloodline. He was dying for a ticket to the capital's elite circles and access to the city's finest privileges.

Word on the street was Christopher was back to hunt down a woman, though the details were thin—just a partial photo of a slender figure in a simple Victorian-style dress and a red bracelet. Gunner remembered Juliette wearing a bracelet just like that, and he figured it was worth rolling the dice. In his eyes, she was already damaged goods anyway. If he pegged the right woman, success was basically in his pocket.

Steeled with that thought, Gunner's coaxing kicked up a notch. "Sweetheart, don't be mad! I'll get the best lawyer to bust your dad out. Sound good?"

"Worried I won't play along with the Bryant family's elder, Uncle Christopher, tonight?" Juliette saw right through his slimy game.

The file he had handed her that morning painted Christopher as a frail, unbearable old man—ugly and volatile, even if he was her dad's age.

"This is the last time, Juliette! Plus, you bailed on Mr. Dexter last go-round, and my proposal got shot down. I'm literally begging you—turn on the charm for Uncle Christopher this time!"

Gunner's desperation hung thick in the air, and Juliette finally clocked her true worth in his eyes—nothing more than another pawn in his never-ending thirst for power.

Juliette Weaver finally saw through Gunner Bryant's bullshit—every last lie. She didn't waste another breath on him and ended the call, her love for him now matched only by the depth of her pain.

At eight that evening, after catching up with a few lawyer friends, Juliette came home to find Gunner's car parked outside. The second she walked in, she spotted her mother, Paulina, chatting away with him like they were old pals.

"Oh! Juliette, you're back!"

Paulina pulled her over to Gunner, all smiles. "Gunner brought a lawyer. He says there's a real chance your father can be saved! I'm so relieved. Now that you're here, spend some time with him. He's planning to take you to meet Christopher Bryant later!"

Paulina practically pushed Juliette down next to Gunner. Juliette realized then that Gunner had slyly used her mother as a weapon. She locked eyes with his smug face and snatched a moment when Paulina went into the kitchen for coffee. "You're using my mom to manipulate me? Is there no end to your arrogance?"

"If you're so upset, why don't you just tell your mom yourself?" Gunner smirked, voice low and taunting. "Remember, she's battling depression. You really want to risk pushing her over the edge?"

Juliette fisted the fabric of her dress, knuckles turning bone white, barely forcing herself still as Paulina bustled back with a tray of spiced honey cake.

"Sweetheart, it's getting late! Juliette and I should head out to meet Uncle Christopher—can't keep him waiting," Gunner announced, not even glancing at Juliette for approval. He grabbed her hand tight and yanked her up from the sofa.

Paulina looked thrilled. "Go on! Juliette, it's your first time meeting the Bryants. Make a good impression, and don't embarrass Gunner, okay?"

The air in the room felt thick; Juliette couldn't breathe. She wanted to tear her hand out of Gunner's grip, but the thought of hurting her mother's heart held her back.

Once outside, Gunner shoved her into his car without ceremony. He glanced up at the house, satisfaction written all over his face. "See? I'm your mom's favorite future son-in-law. As long as I keep this little act up, she might just hand you over to me on a silver platter."

Juliette's stomach dropped. "You're disgusting."

Gunner laughed, that ugly, dismissive sound. "I thought I was your 'darling'?" He floored the gas and sped toward their destination.

When they arrived, he practically dragged her out and shoved a skimpy dress from the backseat into her hands, ordering her to change in the ladies' room.

Meanwhile, inside a private room, Christopher Bryant nursed a whiskey, eyes fixed on the security feed showing the entrance to the women's restroom. His assistant, Everlee Richardson, hovered nearby. "Mr. Bryant, Gunner Bryant's outside. He's the one who helped catch the hit-and-run driver last night. Shall I let him know you're ready to see him?"

Christopher narrowed his gaze at the monitor, taking a slow sip. "Which room?"

"The Royal VIP Lounge. He says he'll wait there until you decide to see him," Everlee answered.

Christopher raised an eyebrow, set his glass down with a soft clink, and pointed at the screen. "Dragging a woman around like she's some rag doll—did he forget he has a mother? Seems a bit rough, don't you think?"

Everlee blinked, noticing for the first time the footage of Gunner yanking Juliette down the hall.

Juliette stepped out moments later in that daring little number, the skimpy dress hugging every curve, her smooth back on full display and those long, elegant legs accentuated by a high slit. With those heels, she was a total head-turner.

Gunner led her to the lounge door. Just as it swung open, a voice came from behind—one she knew too well.

"Ms. Weaver. What a surprise."

Juliette's heart flat-out stopped.

That voice. It was the male escort!

Before she could whip around, Christopher's tall figure was already there, that subtle woodsy scent wrapping around her. "Dressed like that? Don’t tell me your asshole boss has you drinking with clients again."

Just as Gunner Bryant was about to step into the room, Christopher Bryant stopped him cold.

"Mind your own damn business!" Gunner snapped, yanking Juliette Weaver closer and shoving her ahead of him into the lounge.

The room buzzed with energy. A group of guys started whistling the second they got a load of Juliette's outfit.

"Miss Weaver, stunning as always!"

"If I ever need a personal assistant, I'll have Gunner get me one."

"Naturally—secretary by day, star of the show by night. Who wouldn't want that?"

These were rich kids with trust funds, only hanging around Gunner because he was the Bryants' illegitimate son.

Juliette bit down on her lip, swallowing the humiliation as Gunner forced her onto the couch.

"Who was that guy?" Gunner's voice was ice cold.

Juliette kept her face blank. "You didn't recognize him?" The memory flickered—Gunner had hired a male escort that morning.

Gunner's scowl deepened. "Why the hell would I know him?"

His pride couldn't take the thought of her making him look stupid in front of some other man.

He grabbed her by the back of the neck, his grip firm. "Don't tell me he's your new man. If he is, I'll destroy him."

Juliette shot him a glare, her eyes blazing. "You handed me over to another man. Why can't I find someone else on my own?"

"You can't!" He pulled her flush against his chest, her low-cut Victorian dress pressing soft against him.

His gaze dipped, catching a glimpse of skin below her neckline. Gunner swallowed hard. "Juliette, you belong to me. If not, I can make sure your father rots in prison and your mother loses her mind at home."

A chill washed over her, like plunging into freezing water.

Those threats? They were very real.

She'd already talked to lawyers—every single one refused her father's case. The victim was a key player at Bryant Enterprises. The case was buried under heavy influence and airtight evidence.

Her only options? Beg Gunner to plead with his powerful uncle, or go see the man herself.

"Come on, practice pouring coffee," Gunner said, shoving a cup into her hand. "I don't wanna hear about you pissing off Uncle tonight."

He leaned in close, his breath warm on her ear. "Feed it to me from your mouth."

His hand slid over the lace on her back, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin beneath his fingers.

Disgust coiled in her stomach. Juliette shoved him back. "Don't you think I'm filthy? So why are you touching me?"

Gunner snorted. "Touching you is a privilege. Didn't you dream about me doing exactly that for the past five years?"

His degrading words lit a fire in her. Her hands shook with rage, and the cup of coffee went flying, splashing right across his face.

"You bitch!" Humiliated and furious, Gunner grabbed a fistful of her hair.

That was when the door flew open.

A line of imposing bodyguards marched in.

Sensing the shift, Gunner immediately let go of her hair.

Everlee Richardson, Uncle Bryant's right hand, stepped inside. He pointed at Juliette. "Mr. Bryant wants her."

Gunner scrambled to play nice, pulling Juliette to her feet. "Thank you, Uncle, for agreeing to see us!"

"Mr. Bryant did not ask for you. Get out!" Everlee threw him a look of pure disgust, then turned to Juliette. "Mr. Bryant has no use for secondhand goods."

The color drained from Gunner's face. He quickly released her. "I haven't touched her! I was just teaching her how to serve Uncle properly!"

Juliette watched his pathetic groveling and wished the earth would swallow her whole.

"Miss Weaver, follow me," Everlee said, motioning her toward the door.

In the dim room, she still hadn't laid eyes on the infamous Mr. Bryant, but the tension made her spine tingle with dread.

As she trailed behind, a hand suddenly seized her wrist from the darkness.

She was pulled into a pitch-black room, stumbling into someone's arms.

A strong arm locked tight around her rigid waist.

Before she could figure out who he was, her hair was swept aside, exposing the pale skin of her back. Mesmerized by the seductive butterfly tattoo, the man pressed his lips to her flesh, his mouth roaming without restraint...