The only sound in the massive guest suite was the low crackle of the wood burning in the marble fireplace.
On the center of the silk-draped bed, Keira's eyes snapped open. Her breathing was shallow and fast.
She didn't move a single muscle. She kept her body perfectly still, only moving her eyeballs to scan the unfamiliar, opulent room. The heavy velvet curtains, the gold-leaf molding, the suffocating heat of the fire.
A dull, throbbing pain pulsed at the back of her skull, making her stomach churn with nausea. She bit down hard on the soft flesh inside her cheek, using the sharp sting to force her brain into absolute clarity.
She felt the smooth, cold silk of the oversized robe against her skin. Slowly, she slid her hand down her side, reaching for her inner thigh.
Empty. The backup tactical blade strapped to her leg was gone. They had stripped her.
A faint sound reached her ears-the soft, deliberate scuff of a leather shoe against the thick Persian rug. It was coming from the direction of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Keira instantly let her eyelids drop shut, slowing her breathing to mimic a deep, unconscious rhythm.
Hillard walked toward the bed, holding a crystal glass of ice water. He stood towering over her, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the fireplace. He stared down at her pale face.
His eyes narrowed. He noticed the microscopic, rapid twitching of her eyelids. The rapid eye movement of someone wide awake and calculating.
The corner of his mouth curled into a cold, mocking sneer.
He tilted the glass and pressed the freezing, condensation-covered crystal directly against Keira's warm cheek. The ice cubes clinked sharply against the glass.
The shocking, freezing temperature triggered an involuntary somatic response. Keira's shoulders jerked, her body flinching away from the cold.
Her cover was blown. She snapped her eyes open, glaring up at him with pure, unadulterated hostility.
Like a coiled spring, Keira launched herself backward, scrambling across the mattress until her spine hit the cold, padded leather of the headboard.
Hillard didn't step back. Instead, he placed one knee on the edge of the mattress. His massive frame leaned over her, casting a dark, suffocating shadow that swallowed her entirely.
He reached out, his large hand aiming to grip her jaw and force her to look at him.
In that split second, a lethal, cold light flashed in Keira's eyes.
Her right hand whipped under the messy pile of pillows. Her fingers brushed against a tiny, rigid object she had kept hidden deep within the thick roots of her hair during the nurse's inspection.
She pulled out a single, three-inch silver acupuncture needle.
Without a word, the muscles in her arm coiled and snapped forward. She drove the silver needle straight toward the vagus nerve running alongside Hillard's carotid artery.
It was a strike designed to instantly paralyze the nervous system, or, if pushed deep enough, stop the heart entirely.
But Hillard's reflexes were not human. Years of surviving corporate assassinations and military-grade defense training kicked in. A fraction of a second before the needle pierced his skin, he snapped his head to the side.
The silver tip grazed the side of his neck, slicing a razor-thin line across his skin. A few drops of warm blood beaded up, staining the crisp white collar of his dress shirt.
A flash of pure, violent rage ignited in Hillard's dark eyes.
His left hand shot out like a steel vice, clamping down around Keira's right wrist.
He twisted her arm violently. A sharp, agonizing pain shot up to her elbow. Keira let out a muffled grunt as her fingers lost all strength. The silver needle slipped from her grasp, tumbling harmlessly onto the silk duvet.
Ignoring the searing pain in her wrist, Keira clenched her left hand into a fist and drove it upward, aiming directly for his throat.
Hillard casually swatted her fist away with his right hand. Using his momentum, he grabbed both of her wrists, crossed her arms over her chest, and slammed her back down onto the mattress, pinning her arms above her head.
He climbed fully onto the bed, using his overwhelming weight and size to press her deep into the mattress.
Keira thrashed wildly, her legs kicking out, aiming her knees at his groin. Hillard simply shifted his weight, driving his knee between her thighs and forcing her legs apart, completely locking her lower body down.
They were chest to chest. Keira was panting heavily, her chest heaving against his solid torso. She glared up at him, her eyes feral, like a trapped lioness ready to tear out his throat with her teeth.
Hillard looked down at the wild girl writhing beneath him. The slight sting on his neck was a stark reminder that she had just tried to murder him.
But he didn't yell. Instead, a low, dark chuckle vibrated deep in his chest. His warm breath ghosted over her pale, sweaty face.
He shifted his grip, holding both her wrists with one hand. With his free hand, he reached down. His thumb roughly traced the line of her bottom lip in a deeply degrading, mocking gesture.
"Your assassination skills are pathetic," he whispered, his voice dripping with condescension. "Like a stray kitten scratching at a steel door."
Keira snapped her head forward and sank her teeth directly into the meat of his thumb. She bit down with every ounce of strength in her jaw, tasting the hot, metallic tang of his blood on her tongue.
Hillard didn't even flinch. The muscle in his jaw ticked, but his expression remained terrifyingly calm.
He moved his hand, gripping her jawline tightly, his fingers pressing into the hollows beneath her ears. He squeezed, forcing her mouth open until she had to release his thumb. His eyes darkened to a pitch-black void.
"Do that again," he warned, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper, "and I will personally break both of your legs and lock you in the cellar."
