Algot caught Gianna before she hit the floor. Her body was completely limp against his chest.
He stared down at her face. Her dark lashes rested against her pale cheeks. The red dress slipped slightly off her shoulder, revealing the smooth skin of her collarbone.
He pulled his phone from his pocket with his free hand and hit a speed dial number.
"Alex," Algot said, his voice completely steady, betraying none of the chaos inside him. "Come to the second-floor east corridor. Now."
Within thirty seconds, Alex appeared at the top of the stairs. He stopped short when he saw Algot holding an unconscious woman.
"Take her out through the service elevator," Algot ordered. He carefully handed Gianna over to Alex. "Take her back to her apartment. Make sure no one sees you. Do not leave any trace."
Alex adjusted his grip on Gianna, supporting her weight. "Yes, sir. And then?"
"Find out exactly who gave her the ticket to this event," Algot said. His eyes narrowed. "I want to know every move she has made in the last forty-eight hours."
Alex nodded and carried Gianna quickly down the hall.
Algot stood alone in the quiet corridor. He looked down at his hands. The lingering warmth of her skin was still there. For the first time in his life, the first day of the month had not ended in crippling, blinding agony.
Because of her.
He turned and walked back into the shadows.
Gianna woke up with a sharp gasp.
She sat up so fast the room spun. She grabbed her head, wincing at the dull, throbbing ache at the base of her skull.
She looked around. She was in her own bedroom. The morning sun was streaming through the cheap blinds.
She looked down at herself. She was still wearing the red dress from the banquet. It was wrinkled and twisted around her legs.
Memory flooded back. The balcony. The glowing red eyes. The terrifying pain radiating from the man. His hand covering her eyes. The sudden darkness.
Gianna scrambled off the bed and ran into her small bathroom. She flicked on the harsh overhead light and stared at herself in the mirror.
Her makeup was smudged under her eyes. She reached up and unzipped the side of her dress, letting it fall to her waist.
She pulled down the collar of her dress, exposing her neck and collarbone. She turned slightly to look closer in the mirror. There, stark against the pale skin of her throat, were five distinct, dark purple bruises. They were the exact shape of a large hand gripping her tightly.
Gianna traced the bruises with trembling fingers. The skin was tender to the touch.
It was not a dream. He had grabbed her. He had knocked her out.
But more importantly, she remembered the way his body had instantly relaxed the second she touched his chest. She remembered the way he had breathed her in, like she was oxygen and he had been drowning.
She was doing something to him. She was fixing him.
Gianna walked back into her bedroom and picked up her phone from the nightstand. She opened her messages and texted Brenna.
"How did I get home last night?"
Brenna replied a minute later. "The hotel staff called me. They said you fainted near the exit. They put you in a cab. Are you okay?"
Gianna stared at the text. A lie. Algot had covered his tracks perfectly. He was powerful, and he was hiding something massive.
She walked over to her small desk. She unlocked the bottom drawer and pulled out the crisp white business card she had found slipped into her plastic belongings bag at the hospital.
There was no name on it. Just a phone number printed in sleek black ink.
Gianna ran her thumb over the raised numbers.
Desi wanted to sell her to a dying Vaughn. But the man she had met, the man whose pain she could take away, was clearly someone important. He was dangerous, but right now, he was the only weapon she had.
She was not going to run from him. She was going to use him.
Gianna looked back at the mirror. She saw the bruises on her skin. She saw the fierce, burning determination in her own eyes.
"You need me," Gianna whispered to the empty room. "And I am going to make you pay for it."
