Escaping The Billionaire's Deadly Surrogate Trap

Kamryn's fingers tightened around her throat. Just as the pressure became unbearable, the sound of heavy footsteps and voices bled through the thick door.

A deep, cold voice asked the bodyguards outside-specifically addressing Mitch Duggan-if Kamryn was in the room. It was Calhoun Terrell.

Blaire's pupils dilated. Her heart leaped into her throat, choking her. If her adoptive brother caught her dressed like a stripper in a VIP booth, her life was over.

Kamryn recognized his friend's voice too. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and released his grip on Blaire's neck.

He took a step back and adjusted the collar of his shirt. He glanced at the door, his mind calculating rapidly. Losing his temper over a bottom-tier dancer while Calhoun was waiting outside was beneath him. It was a waste of energy. He decided to handle this the way he handled all persistent annoyances-with overwhelming financial force.

Not wanting Calhoun to see him losing his mind over a club dancer, Kamryn reached into his suit pocket. He pulled out a thick stack of cash and a gold embossed business card.

He shoved the money and the card roughly into the deep V-neck of her bodysuit. He leaned in and whispered a harsh warning against her ear. He told her to call the number when she stopped being stupid, and then ordered her to get out.

Blaire felt like she had been granted a pardon from death row. She frantically shoved the cash down into her tall boots. She grabbed the card, kept her head down, and stumbled toward the door.

She yanked the door open. She came face to face with Calhoun standing in the hallway. He had one hand in his pocket, his eyes cold and indifferent.

Blaire's entire body went stiff. She instinctively pulled the red wig further down her face and bit her lip, terrified to make a single sound.

In her panic, her trembling fingers lost their grip. The gold embossed business card slipped from her hand and landed right next to Calhoun's polished leather shoe.

Calhoun frowned. His eyes swept over her revealing outfit and the overwhelming scent of cheap perfume. A look of pure, undisguised disgust flashed across his face.

He did not look closely at the face hidden beneath the heavy makeup. He simply bent down, picked up the card with two fingers, and held it out to her.

Blaire snatched the card from his fingers. She didn't even dare to whisper a thank you. She squeezed past him and sprinted down the hallway toward the employee exit like her life depended on it.

Calhoun watched her run away, his frown deepening. He dismissed the strange encounter, turned the handle, and walked into Kamryn's booth.

An hour later, Blaire had scrubbed her face clean and changed back into her jeans. She took a cab back to the Terrell estate, feeling like a walking ghost.

She pushed the side door open as quietly as possible. The moment she stepped into the dark hallway, a tall shadow detached itself from the wall, blocking her path.

It was Calhoun. He had beaten her home and had been waiting in the dark. The faint smell of tobacco and an overwhelming sense of oppression filled the air.

Blaire's heart started hammering all over again. She forced a polite greeting and tried to walk around him to get to the stairs. His hand shot out and clamped around her wrist.

His grip was bruising. He yanked her forward, closing the distance between them until it was dangerously intimate.

He leaned down. His nose almost brushed her hair. His dark eyes glittered with a terrifying intensity in the shadows.

Calhoun spoke in a slow, deliberate tone. He asked her where she had been so late, and why she smelled like an overwhelming mixture of cheap perfume and stale sweat.

Blaire's brain scrambled for an excuse. She stuttered out a lie about going to a classmate's birthday party at a local bar.

Calhoun stared at her. His fingers slowly slid up her arm. He reached her neck and casually brushed his thumb over the red marks Kamryn's fingers had left on her skin.

He pressed his thumb hard into the bruise. Blaire sucked in a sharp breath of pain, but she forced her feet to stay planted.

Calhoun leaned in until his lips were right next to her ear. His voice was a low, demonic whisper. He warned her to stay away from Kamryn Lane, telling her that Kamryn was not a predator she could handle.

The double meaning was clear. It was a warning about her supposed attempt to sleep with Kamryn, but it also dripped with a sick, possessive jealousy.

The coldness in his voice made Blaire shiver uncontrollably. She nodded frantically, promising she would never go near Kamryn.

Satisfied, Calhoun slowly released her. He took a step back, his face returning to the mask of a strict, emotionless older brother. He told her to go to bed.

Blaire practically ran up the stairs. She slammed her bedroom door shut and locked it. She realized with horrifying clarity that every man in this house was a monster. She had to leave tomorrow.