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...
