Bound By The Ruthless Billionaire's Contract

Wayne Boggs took a heavy, uncoordinated step forward. The stench of alcohol rolling off him made Jacqueline's stomach heave. He reached out, his thick fingers aiming for her bare arm.

Jacqueline reacted purely on instinct. She jerked backward, her spine stiffening as she dodged his greasy hand. A heavy gold ring on his index finger caught the light, flashing dangerously close to her face.

Behind her, hidden in the shadows of the DK suite, Christian stood perfectly still. He watched the scene unfold with cold detachment, his jaw ticking. To him, this looked exactly like a dispute between a cheap escort and a disgruntled client. A cruel, mocking smirk touched the corner of his mouth.

Jacqueline knew that staying in this room, trying to explain herself to Christian while Wayne spewed filth, was a losing battle. She needed to get out.

She shoved her shoulder against the heavy door, trying to squeeze past Wayne's bulky frame and escape into the hallway.

Her blatant disgust enraged him. Wayne's face flushed an ugly, mottled red. He lunged, his large hand grabbing the leather strap of her tote bag. With a violent grunt, he yanked the bag toward the hallway.

The sudden, massive force pulled Jacqueline off balance. Her ankle twisted sharply in her high heels. Pain shot up her calf as she stumbled backward, crossing the threshold out of the DK suite and onto the thick Persian rug of the corridor.

She caught her balance just in time. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the other side of the bag. Her laptop, her client files, her entire livelihood was inside. She wasn't letting go.

Fuelled by liquid courage and bruised ego, Wayne let go of the bag and swung his other hand up, his thick fingers wrapping tightly around Jacqueline's throat. He shoved her backward, slamming her spine against the hallway wall.

The air was crushed from her lungs. Jacqueline didn't scream. Panic was a luxury she couldn't afford.

She locked her eyes on his sweaty face, shifted her weight, and drove her knee upward with every ounce of strength she possessed, burying it deep into his groin.

Wayne released her throat instantly. A high-pitched, guttural squeal tore from his mouth as he doubled over, clutching his stomach.

Jacqueline gasped for air, her lungs burning. She snatched her tote bag from the floor and spun toward the elevators. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She only made it three steps.

Two massive bodyguards stepped out from the corner of the hallway, their dark jackets stretching over broad shoulders, forming an impenetrable wall of muscle right in front of the elevator doors. For a split second, Jacqueline thought they were Christian's men coming to intervene, but the cruel smirks on their faces mirrored Wayne's.

Behind her, Wayne recovered. The pain in his groin morphed into blind, violent rage.

He charged. Before Jacqueline could turn, his hand clamped down on the back of her head, his fingers twisting viciously into her hair.

"Bitch!" he roared, yanking her backward.

The pain in her scalp was blinding. It felt like her hair was being ripped from the roots. A sharp gasp tore from her lips, and hot tears instantly flooded her eyes. She bit down hard on her lower lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her beg.

Wayne swung his arm, throwing her sideways.

Jacqueline flew into the wall. Her shoulder blade crashed into a heavy brass wall sconce. The sickening thud echoed down the hall.

The impact knocked the breath out of her entirely. Her legs gave out. She slid down the expensive wallpaper, collapsing onto the floor. The pristine white fabric of her dress smeared against the dust of the baseboards.

Wayne stood over her, his chest heaving. He pointed a trembling finger at her face.

"You played the innocent virgin last month when I offered to pay your rent!" he screamed, his spit flying onto her cheek. "And now you're out here spreading your legs in a VIP room for someone else!"

A few doors down the hallway cracked open. Wealthy patrons peeked out, their eyes wide with curiosity. But the moment they saw Wayne's bodyguards, the doors clicked shut. No one was going to help her.

Jacqueline leaned her head against the wall, her chest heaving as she struggled to pull oxygen into her lungs. The harsh fluorescent lights above her flickered. The suffocating helplessness of her past-the memory of her family turning their backs on her-crashed into her brain, paralyzing her limbs.

Seeing her broken on the floor, Wayne grew bolder. He bent down, his hand grabbing the high neckline of her white dress.

He pulled hard.

The sharp, violent sound of tearing fabric ripped through the quiet hallway. The seam at her shoulder gave way, splitting the dress down to her collarbone. The cold air hit her bare skin, exposing the black strap of her bra.

The sound of the tearing fabric snapped something deep inside Jacqueline's mind. The paralyzing fear vanished, replaced instantly by a blinding, white-hot rage.

Her hand blindly searched the carpet and found her spilled tote bag. Her fingers closed around the cold, heavy metal of her fountain pen.

Wayne reached out again, his fingers aiming for the torn fabric to rip it further.

Jacqueline gripped the pen like a dagger. Without a single second of hesitation, she drove the sharp metal nib straight down into the back of Wayne's hand.

The metal pierced his skin and hit bone.

Wayne let out a blood-curdling shriek. He ripped his hand back, stumbling away from her. Thick, dark blood instantly welled up from the puncture wound, dripping onto the pristine Persian rug.

Seeing their boss bleeding, the two bodyguards at the end of the hall cursed and charged toward Jacqueline, their fists clenched.

Jacqueline forced herself to her feet. Her back was pressed flat against the wall. She held the bloody pen out in front of her, her chest heaving, her blue eyes wild and feral. She looked like a cornered animal ready to fight to the death.

The first bodyguard raised his fist, aiming right for her jaw.

BANG.

The heavy mahogany doors of the DK suite exploded outward, kicked open with such terrifying force that the wood splintered around the hinges. The deafening crash froze everyone in the hallway.

The bodyguard's fist stopped inches from Jacqueline's face.

Christian Montgomery stepped out of the shadows and into the harsh light of the corridor. He looked like a demon dragged straight from hell. His face was a mask of absolute, terrifying calm, but his black eyes were locked dead onto Wayne's bleeding hand.