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...