Chapter six

~CHAPTER SIX~

He scoffs as though the answer is obvious.

“You’re on the covers of three aviation magazines this month. You represent almost every brand my companies sponsor.”

A slow drag. Smoke lifts around him like a halo made of sin.

“People like you don’t end up in underground bars by accident.”

His stare slices through me.

“So. What happened to you?”

I empty the rest of the liquor just to avoid the question. The bite of it barely distracts from the pressure building in my throat. My hands tremble.

Then it cracks out of me raw, broken, louder than intended.

“I ruined everything. My life is over.”

He doesn’t react, not a flinch, not even a sympathetic tilt of the head. He simply watches. Calculating. Waiting for the truth beneath my panic.

But before I can continue, my phone vibrates violently in my pocket.

I freeze.

The name glowing on the screen turns my veins into ice.

Steve.

Or rather—Steve Carter, the psycho holding a knife to my life.

Hardin sees my terror instantly. His eyes narrow with sharp, predator-like understanding.

“Answer it,” he says.

“I—I don’t want—”

His gaze hardens.

“I wasn’t asking.”

His tone alone is enough to remind me that men like him don’t repeat themselves. I obey.

I hit speaker.

Steve’s voice explodes into the room—laughing, ruthless, dripping poison.

“Took you long enough to pick up, bitch.”

Humiliation burns my face. He doesn’t move, but the air around him shifts—darkens.

I force words out. “What do you want now?”

Steve doesn’t hesitate.

“Two days, Amelia. Two. If you don’t agree to my terms, your face, your body, that sweet cunt, every part of you—goes online. You’ll be the world’s favorite free porn star.”

A humiliating sob crawls up my throat. I drag my fingers through my hair, pulling hard enough to hurt.

“And don’t bother running to the cops,” Steve adds. “I’ll ruin you long before they ruin me.”

He hangs up.

The silence left behind is suffocating.

My breath breaks.

“Fuck!”

It tears out of me before I can stop it.

The strange man straightens slowly from the desk. He crushes out his cigarette, eyes never leaving mine.

Then, he says calmly,

“I’m Hardin Scott Massino.”

He steps closer, his presence drowning out the room.

“And I can make that little problem of yours… disappear.”

He doesn’t smile.

He doesn’t blink.

He just looks at me like he already owns the next chapter of my life.

And maybe, God help me—I might let him.

The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

“I’ll do anything. Whatever it takes.”

He watches me with a slow, calculative pleasure, as though my desperation is a currency he understands better than most.

A slow, wicked smile stretched across Hardin’s lips. He pushed off the desk, walked back to his leather chair, and sank into it like a king claiming his throne.

His cigarette flame briefly illuminating the sharp lines of his face.

He exhales.

“Anything?” he repeats, voice low and edged with something lethal.

I nod. “Yes.”

“Good.” He taps ash into a crystal tray, eyes never leaving me. “Now tell me… what’s his name?”

My stomach knots.

My lips part.

And I whisper, “Steve Carter.”

The moment the name falls out of my mouth, Hardin laughs.

A terrifying laugh that vibrates through the room and makes the guard at the door straighten.

I freeze.

Is this man… insane?

He flicks his cigarette aside and wipes his thumb across his lower lip, still smiling that twisted little smile.

“Done.”

My breath catches.

Done? Just like that?

How can something so dangerous be solved so easily?

Before I can question him, he leans forward, elbows on his knees, cigarette between his fingers.

“You’ll meet me tomorrow night,” he says. “Eleven p.m. sharp.”

He slides a small card across the table. An address. A part of the city I’ve never stepped foot in—strange and unfamiliar.

My mind spirals.

Tomorrow night.

But tomorrow I’m supposed to fly with a governor back to the U.S.

A full twelve-hour round-trip.

“I—I have work,” I stammer. “An official flight. A big one. If I don’t show up—”

“You’ll lose everything anyway if you don’t handle this,” he interrupts, voice calm, razor-sharp. “Your career. Your reputation. Your little internet fame. Gone.”

The words slide over my skin like a touch.

He leans back, picks up another cigarette, and lights it without breaking eye contact. Smoke swirls between us, thick and intoxicating.

He’s right.

Steve might destroy me long before I land in New York.

I look at the card in my hand.

The coordinates feel like a doorway into something I can’t come back from.

My pulse is shaking.

But I lift my chin and meet his dark eyes steady, hungry with unspoken plans.

“I’m in,” I say. My voice doesn’t crack this time.

Hardin’s smile widens—not warm, but victorious.

“Good girl.”

One of Hardin’s men drives me back to my hotel, silent the entire way.

And the whole time, all I can think about, is sex.

I’m insane.

Utterly insane.

My life is collapsing, a scandal waiting to explode, a psycho like Steve threatening to ruin me…

And yet my brain keeps circling back to sex.

To needing a man.

To needing release.

I can’t go back to my room like this—not sober, not calm, not untouched.

The car pulls off. I pretend to walk into the hotel, waiting for the taillights to disappear.

The moment they do, I step back out, ready to sneak off somewhere, to drown my stress in someone’s arms.

But then I look at myself properly.

I look like a mess. Tipsy. Rumpled. My makeup smudged.

I can’t attract my kind of man looking like this.

Thinking about it…

Hardin is exactly my type.

Too much my type.

That man is sin carved into human form.

I would kill for one night with him.

Just one.

Ugh. Even thinking about him makes my thighs tense.

I sigh, give up on sneaking around, and head to my room. I strip, jump under the shower, and scrub off the night.

When I step out, I glam up, hair, makeup, my sexiest gown hugging every curve, heels sharp enough to seduce a man.

There has to be a club inside this hotel.

A bar. A lounge. Something.

I’m not spending the night alone.

I open my door—

And slam straight into a brick wall of a man in a black suit.

“What the—? What’s going on? Who are you?”

He doesn’t blink.

“Boss Massimo instructed I stand by your door.”

Massimo.

Hardin’s goon.

My brows knit. “Well, I don’t need protection. You can go.”

Nothing.

Not a twitch.

He’s like a statue programmed to obey one person only.

I huff. “Fine. Move aside. I have an important meeting.”

He lifts an arm—not aggressively, just firmly and gently ushers me backward.

“You’re not leaving this room, Miss.”

“Are you serious?” I snap. “What kind of hotel lets a man block my fucking door?!”

He stares past me, unfazed. Unmovable. A robot in human skin.

There’s no point arguing. He’ll probably take a bullet before letting me pass.

I stomp back inside, slam the door, and throw my clutch onto the bed.

Great.

Perfect.

I’m dolled up like a goddess with no one to worship me.

And I can’t even call Hardin, because I don’t have his damn number.

“Ugh, I hate this,” I mutter, pacing. “And I’m horny. This is ridiculous. How am I supposed to think properly?”