ies and spilling champagne. She pushed past the velvet rope into the private VIP mezzani

pest, darkest corner of the lounge

d on his knees, his broad shoulders heaving in jagged, irregular breaths. His head was

on the low glass tabl

acallan

is tailored charcoal shirt, turning the fine fabric t

ess suddenly lunged forward. She reeked of cheap vanilla spray, her hands darting do

neck, a room keycard already gripped between her manicured fingers.

ac

out with terrifying

unching her backward. She hit the edge of the glass table,

velly, suffocating growl that rattled with pure p

d stare of two approaching security guards, realized her window for

e didn

's pupils were dilated so wide his irises were swallowed in black. Veins corded a

t alcohol

. He'd been drugged. Someone had spiked his scotch with a fast-

anding register as she reached for the service radio at h

ld unclip the

like an iron vice, clamping around

her black shirt. She tried to yank her arm back, but the man was an immovable wall of musc

word was dragged from his throat

ling against his grip. "Your pulse is hammering ov

s. The irises behind the glass were an unnerving, glacial steel-gray, burning with terrifying clarity despite the drug ravaging his body. "

y inches from his. The raw, masculine scent of expensive ceda

in an alley booth, drowning in the drug, he radiated the absolute, crushing authority of

into the dark a

angerous, lethal titan of the city who was

ht years of her life to a high-society heir would earn her safety. It ha

iant spark igni

line asked, her voic

e a single,

s massive arm, and hauled his scorchi