Chapter 43

The door clicked shut behind Evelyn. Trevor wasted no time tearing off his clothes.

"Relax, Ms. Carter. By morning, I'll spill every secret about Langley Industries. You'll be unstoppable at Kingsley Corp," he sneered.

Drool practically dripped from his chin as his eyes flickered toward the hidden camera nestled in the headboard.

Why settle for one night when he could relive it forever?

He'd have his way with every woman those high-profile men had touched. If things went south, he'd have enough blackmail material to ruin Evelyn.

Bare and breathless, he lunged.

Glass shattered.

Pain exploded across his skull. Blood trickled down his temple as he staggered back.

"You psycho!" he roared, clutching his head. "I'll kill you!"

His fist flew—only for Evelyn to catch his wrist midair.

A sharp twist. A sickening pop.

His arm hung limp.

Before he could scream, her stiletto slammed into his ribs. The crack echoed.

Fear drowned his lust. He scrambled backward, but her fingers tangled in his hair, yanking him close.

"P-please," he choked. "I was wrong—"

"Changed your mind?" Her voice dripped ice. "Thought you wanted to see how I perform."

The rib fragment stabbing his lung answered for him. "N-no! I surrender!"

Her palm patted his cheek. "Still think I'm helpless?"

Three years without practice, yet her heels had done the job. Satisfaction curled her lips.

Trembling, Trevor shook his head.

"Bed. Now."

"You're joking! I can't even—"

Her fist silenced him. "Filthy mind. Lie down."

He crawled onto the mattress, whimpering.

Evelyn's phone flashed. Click. Click. Click.

"Stop! My reputation—" He shielded his face, but the damage was done.

She plucked the camera from the vase, lip curled.

"Watching trash get wrecked? My new favorite hobby."

Leaning in, her whisper turned lethal. "If I find you've filmed anyone else... hell will feel cozy."

Trevor's throat closed. The tapes hidden in his penthouse flashed behind his eyes. He nodded wildly.

Disgust clung to her skin. She scrubbed her hands under the faucet, wine swirling down the drain.

A waiter passed. "Call an ambulance. Room 1203. Man down."

The kid bolted inside. Trevor had already blacked out.

"Front desk!" The walkie-talkie crackled. "Medical emergency!"

Staff swarmed within minutes. Evelyn's crossed arms and glacial stare killed any questions.

"Ma'am, are you—"

She waved them off and strode out.

The hallway stretched empty—until Nathan Sterling stepped into view.

Their eyes locked. An ocean of unspoken words between them.