Sloane's fingertips brushed the cold metal of the stun pen.
Before she could pull it, Eugene's knee slammed upward, pinning her thigh to the door. His hand shot down, moving with terrifying, inhuman speed.
He ripped the stun pen from her boot. He held it up between them.
With one squeeze of his massive hand, the military-grade plastic cracked. The pen shattered into pieces. He dropped the broken electronics onto the carpet.
Sloane's stomach dropped. She was physically outmatched in every possible way.
Eugene's hand flew back up. He grabbed the front of her mask and ripped it off, taking the glasses with it. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him.
The dim wall sconce illuminated her face.
Eugene's body went rigid. His eyes narrowed, a dangerous, calculating glint appearing in their depths, before it was instantly swallowed by a dark, violent haze.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. His skin was practically on fire.
"The new bride of Donavan Mason," Eugene snarled, his breath hot against her cheek. "Does your husband know you're sneaking into my club?"
Sloane felt a surge of bile in her throat, her voice cold. "I'm a waitress. Let me go."
Eugene let out a dark, ragged laugh. He pressed his entire body weight against her. The physical evidence of his arousal pressed hard against her stomach.
"A waitress with a military stun pen?" he whispered against her ear.
He buried his face in her neck, his breathing erratic. "The Song Group spiked my whiskey at the table. A military-grade aphrodisiac."
Sloane's eyes widened. Panic, cold and sharp, pierced her chest. She was locked in a room with a drugged apex predator.
She shoved her hands against his chest, pushing with all her might. It was like pushing a brick wall.
Eugene's hand clamped around both of her wrists, pinning them above her head against the door.
"Fix this," he growled, his teeth grazing her collarbone. "Or I call Haden back right now and tell him you're a rat."
Sloane froze. If Haden found out she was here, her entire five-year revenge plan would turn to ash.
"I'll call you a doctor," she gasped, trying to keep her voice steady.
Eugene bit down hard on her collarbone. Sloane winced, a sharp cry escaping her lips.
"I can't have medical records of this," he panted. "You have no choice."
Sloane glared at him, her eyes burning with defiance. "If I do this... what do I get?"
Eugene pulled back slightly. He looked at her, his eyes dark with lust and a twisted kind of respect.
"I destroy Haden's credit permanently," Eugene said, his voice thick. "And I give you the Song Group ledger in the safe."
Sloane's heart pounded in her ears. It was the ultimate weapon. But the price was her own body.
She looked at the silver mask. She thought of her father in the ICU. She thought of the baby she lost in the fire.
Eugene didn't wait for her answer. His patience snapped.
He grabbed her waist, lifted her off the floor, and carried her across the room. He threw her down onto the massive leather sofa.
The world spun. Before Sloane could sit up, Eugene was on top of her.
He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a long, black silk pocket square. He grabbed her wrists, pulled them above her head, and lashed them to the heavy wooden armrest of the sofa.
"You bastard," Sloane hissed, thrashing against the bindings.
"Wall Street is a jungle," Eugene said coldly. "Eat or be eaten."
He grabbed the collar of her uniform and ripped it open. The buttons popped, scattering across the floor. The cold air hit her bare skin.
Sloane squeezed her eyes shut. A single tear of pure humiliation slid down her temple.
Then, the hatred took over. She stopped fighting. She opened her eyes. They were dead, cold, and utterly fearless.
"Keep your promise, Eugene," she whispered. "Or I will drag you to hell with me."
Eugene let out a guttural roar. His control shattered. He crashed his mouth down onto hers, devouring her completely.
