The Pop Queen's Ruthless Billionaire Fan

The elevator doors pinged open at the lobby level. Eleanor stepped out, adjusting her cuffs. Before she could take three steps, a wall of black-suited men surrounded her. Alistair Montgomery pushed through the center of his security detail, his face pale and tight.

Alistair took one look at Eleanor's slightly rumpled suit jacket. The polite, gentle mask he usually wore vanished. His eyes darkened with pure panic. He closed the distance and grabbed both of her shoulders, his grip bruising.

"Are you hurt?" Alistair demanded, his voice thick with anxiety. His eyes frantically scanned her face, her neck, her hands. The unusually tight grip of his fingers made Eleanor slightly uncomfortable, a strange, nervous tension radiating from him that instinctively made her want to pull away.

Eleanor stiffened. She subtly shifted her weight backward, breaking his hold on her shoulders. "I'm fine, Alistair. I just dealt with a piece of trash upstairs."

Alistair's hands dropped to his sides. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek. He swallowed the bitter taste of rejection. He turned to his PR director. "Lock down the hotel security feeds. Now. Buy the footage. Destroy it."

At that exact moment, the heavy brass revolving doors of the lobby spun open. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Dominic Sterling walked in, flanked by a dozen Wall Street executives.

Alistair felt the shift in the air. He turned his head. His eyes locked onto Dominic. The space between the two men crackled with invisible electricity. It was the silent, deadly standoff of two apex predators recognizing a threat.

Instinctively, Alistair took a half-step sideways, placing his body directly between Dominic and Eleanor. It was a primal, territorial block. He glared at Dominic.

Dominic stopped walking. He ignored Alistair completely. His dark, piercing gaze slid right over Alistair's shoulder and locked onto Eleanor's face. The corner of Dominic's mouth twitched upward into a slow, knowing smile.

Eleanor recognized him instantly. The "fan" from Madison Square Garden. She stepped out from behind Alistair's back, refusing to hide. She gave Dominic a stiff, polite nod of acknowledgment.

Alistair saw the silent exchange. His stomach twisted into a violent knot. His face turned ashen. He reached out, wrapping his hand tightly around Eleanor's wrist, and dragged her toward the underground parking garage.

Once inside the soundproof cabin of Alistair's Maybach, the tension snapped. Alistair turned to her, his breathing heavy. "How do you know him?"

Eleanor rubbed her wrist where his fingers had dug in. She frowned, annoyed by his aggressive interrogation. "Who? Why does it matter to you?"

Alistair hit the leather steering wheel with the heel of his hand. "Eleanor, listen, you should stay away from him."

Eleanor kept her face blank and nodded, but her heart hammered against her ribs. Then it clicked—Alistair was talking about was the man she'd just encountered, that fan she'd briefly met backstage, sounded like a dangerous man. A strange, dark curiosity ignited in her chest.

Across town, inside the glass-walled boardroom of the W&L Consortium Los Angeles branch, Dominic sat at the head of a massive mahogany table. His face was carved from stone.

At the other end of the table, the CEO of the Kozlowski family enterprise was sweating through his suit. He was desperately clicking through a PowerPoint presentation, begging for a buyout to save his failing company.

Dominic raised his right hand. The room fell dead silent. He picked up the thick acquisition file and threw it across the table. It slammed into the wood with a loud crack.

"W&L is rejecting the buyout," Dominic's voice was a low, terrifying rumble. "We are initiating a hostile takeover. Effective immediately."

The Kozlowski CEO collapsed into his chair, his face gray. "Why? We offered you everything!"

Dominic leaned forward, his eyes black and empty. "Because your heir touched something that belongs to me."

Nobody in the boardroom dared to breathe. The executives stared at their notepads, terrified to make eye contact.

Alex stepped up behind Dominic's chair and leaned down. "Sir, the Kozlowski supply chains will be choked out in forty-eight hours. They are finished."

Dominic gave a single, sharp nod. "Good. Now, pull everything you have on Alistair Montgomery. I want to know exactly what his relationship is with Eleanor Vance."

Alex tapped his tablet. "Montgomery is her primary sponsor and acts as a surrogate older brother. However, behavioral analysis suggests Montgomery exhibits an extreme level of protectiveness and control over Miss Vance, with an intense focus that far exceeds the standard parameters of a typical sponsor or surrogate brother, making him a primary variable to monitor."

The silver Montblanc pen in Dominic's hand snapped in half. Black ink exploded across his knuckles and stained the cuff of his white shirt. Dominic didn't even blink. The violent jealousy tearing through his chest made it hard to breathe.

No man was allowed to look at Eleanor like that. She was his.

"Alex, initiate a comprehensive stress test on Montgomery's record label," Dominic ordered, his voice smooth and detached. "I want a full report on all their financial vulnerabilities and operational weak points on my desk by tomorrow morning. Give them enough structural issues to keep him entirely occupied."

"Understood," Alex said, typing furiously.

"And Alex," Dominic stood up, wiping the ink from his hand with a towel. "Prepare a gift. Anonymous. Have it delivered to Miss Vance's penthouse."

Dominic walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. The brutal Los Angeles sun beat down on the glass. He stared at the city below, his mind already weaving the steel trap that would lock Eleanor Vance to his side forever.