Pampered By My Obsessive Tycoon Husband

A heavy pressure crushed Chloe's chest.

The cloying scent of cheap cologne, sharp and invasive, filled her nostrils, making her stomach churn.

Her eyes fluttered open. The dim hotel room swam from a blur into focus. She was on a massive bed, the sheets twisted around her legs.

Zane Sterling loomed over her, a predatory grin splitting his face as his fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. One of his hands pinned her shoulder to the mattress, the weight of him suffocating.

In an instant, a torrent of memories flooded her mind—the agonizing pain, the cold laughter of Zane and Iesha, the final, desperate gasp for air in a dark, damp basement. The images were so vivid, so real, that her pupils contracted in sheer terror.

She wasn't dead.

This was three years ago. The night Zane Sterling tried to frame her for cheating, the night that shattered her marriage to Jax.

She had been reborn.

Zane leaned down, his foul breath washing over her face. "Don't fight it, Chloe. Just a few pictures, and Jax will throw you out like the trash you are. Then, you'll be all mine."

His lips descended toward hers.

The fear in Chloe's eyes vanished, replaced by a chilling, arctic cold.

Her right leg snapped up, her knee driving with brutal precision into the soft, vulnerable flesh of his groin.

A sound, something between a scream and a pig's squeal, tore from Zane's throat. He doubled over, his hands flying to his crotch, his body curling into a tight ball of agony.

Chloe didn't hesitate. She shoved him with her foot, sending him tumbling off the bed. Her bare feet hit the plush, cold carpet.

"You bitch!" Zane gasped, his face contorted with disbelief and rage. He lunged, trying to grab her ankle.

She was already moving. She spun around, her hand closing around the heavy crystal ashtray on the mahogany nightstand. The weight of it felt solid, real.

She turned back, bent at the waist, and brought the ashtray down with all her strength against the side of his head.

The crack of impact was sickeningly loud.

Blood bloomed instantly, dark and viscous, streaming down his cheek. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he staggered backward, dazed.

Chloe grabbed the collar of his expensive shirt, the fabric bunching in her fist. She started dragging his dead weight across the room, toward the suite's bathroom. He was heavy, but adrenaline surged through her veins, a hot, powerful current.

He struggled feebly, his hands clawing at her arm, but her grip was like iron.

She kicked open the bathroom's glass door. The harsh, white light of the vanity bulbs flooded the space, stark and unforgiving.

With a final, guttural cry, she shoved him forward, forcing his head down into the toilet bowl. The water splashed, cold and shocking.

His hands flailed, slapping wildly against the porcelain rim. Muffled gurgles escaped his throat.

Chloe held him there, her face a mask of detached fury. Ten seconds. She counted them in her head, savoring the sound of his panic, the sight of his struggle.

She yanked his head back out of the water. He sputtered and coughed, water and snot streaming from his face.

She leaned close, her voice a venomous whisper in his ear. "This is just the beginning, Zane. For what you and Iesha did to me, I will make you pay."

Suddenly, a deafening boom echoed from the front of the suite. The solid wood door to the hallway had been blown off its hinges.

Chloe's head snapped up. She instantly released Zane, who collapsed to the tiled floor in a heap. Her mind raced, processing, calculating. She quickly smoothed down the front of her silk dress.

Heavy, frantic footsteps pounded through the living room, coming straight for them.

Jax Irwin appeared in the bathroom doorway.

He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his presence radiating a lethal coldness that seemed to suck all the air from the room. His deep, piercing eyes took in the scene in a fraction of a second-the blood on the floor, the pathetic, gasping form of Zane, and finally, Chloe.

His gaze locked on her.

The icy resolve in Chloe's eyes melted away, replaced by a carefully constructed terror. Her lower lip trembled. Her eyes welled with tears.

Barefoot, she scrambled across the cold tiles, not away from him, but toward him. She launched herself at him like a frightened deer, a small, wounded creature seeking sanctuary.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his lean waist, and she buried her face in the hard wall of his chest, her shoulders shaking with manufactured sobs.

"Jax," she choked out, her voice muffled against his suit.

Zane, still coughing up water, pointed a trembling finger at her. "She... she tried to kill me! She's insane!"

Jax didn't even glance at him. His body was rigid, his muscles coiled tight as steel springs. Then, slowly, tentatively, his arms came up and wrapped around Chloe, pulling her flush against him. His hand settled on the back of her head, holding her securely.

Over her trembling form, his eyes met Zane's, and the look that passed between them sucked the remaining color from Zane's face. His trembling finger dropped, and a strangled whimper escaped his throat.