Chapter 8

Eleanor stood outside the presidential suite at the Montmorency Hotel, a shaky breath escaping her lips. She held the key card tightly. The man she’d been obsessed with for three years was behind that door. Three years ago, she would have burst in without a second thought, ready to tease him or throw a tantrum. But now…

Her beautiful eyes dimmed with sadness. The man inside that room, though, was strangling her. Swallowing the pain that felt like a physical blow, she swiped the key card and stepped inside. She barely had time to look around before a strong hand grabbed her arm. The next second, she was pinned to the bed, staring up at Dominick’s furious face.

“D-Dominick…” she stammered.

His enchanting emerald-green eyes were cold and ruthless, their intensity stealing her breath. His towering frame loomed over her, making her feel petite and helpless. Eleanor swallowed hard; her throat was dry. The danger radiating from him was palpable, like a predator about to strike. All the courage she'd mustered vanished.

“Bach, you’re really so desperate? Just out of prison, you’re already throwing yourself at me?” Dominick growled, his deep voice dripping with contempt. His breath brushed against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. Eleanor’s heart pounded wildly. Staring into his impossibly handsome face, she knew she couldn’t resist him—she never could.

Feigning a seductive allure, Eleanor looped her arms around his neck, her voice turning sweet and teasing. “Yeah, I’m desperate. I just enjoy being a seductress.”

She didn’t give him a chance to respond but tugged at his clothes with calloused hands. Pushing herself closer, she kissed him, her lips pressing hard and defiant against his.

Dominick didn’t move, though she could feel the tension in his body. The drug was already affecting him, but his self-control held firm. His piercing eyes stayed locked on hers, unyielding and unreadable. Eleanor’s cold fingers brushed against his skin, sending a shiver through him despite his resistance. She wrestled with his silk shirt until it came off, then went for his belt, her breath ragged and determined.

That’s when Dominick’s hand shot up. He gripped her jaw firmly and forced her to look at him. His voice was low and dangerous. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Eleanor shot back, her fiery gaze meeting his. “You’re my man.”

Those three simple words seemed to strike something deep within Dominick. Without warning, his movements turned rough. He grabbed her uniform and tore it apart.

The moment Dominick stripped Eleanor, his face turned icy cold. His intense eyes stared into hers as if he were about to swallow her. No amount of shouting or cursing stopped his fierce movements. What followed was a night of unrelenting chaos.

When Eleanor woke the next morning, every inch of her body felt like it had been run over by a truck. She could barely sit up, let alone stand, and her pale face was damp with cold sweat. The pain was worse than that night three years ago. Morning sunlight poured through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting the wreckage of the bed.

Outside the suite, a commotion erupted, loud enough to stir Dominick awake. He opened his eyes slowly, his expression turning gloomy instantly. His brow furrowed, and the air around him seemed to drop several degrees. He’d always woken up grumpy, but now…

Dominick shot Eleanor a glance, his piercing green eyes promising trouble, but before he could speak, the door flew open. Alexis was ushered in as a swarm of reporters surged past her. Were it not for Bruce’s protection, she might have fallen. The chaos exploded as reporters snapped photos and shouted questions. Eleanor instinctively yanked the blanket up to cover herself. Her entire body ached as if she’d been through a war, and her first instinct was to curse the man beside her. But then she caught sight of Alexis’s perfectly rehearsed damsel-in-distress expression, and a thrill of satisfaction coursed through her.

“Mr. Vanderbilt, aren’t you about to get engaged to Ms. Foster? Who’s the woman in your bed? What happened here last night?” a reporter asked.

The scene—rumpled sheets, disheveled hair, and Dominick’s half-dressed state, complete with scratch marks—left little to the imagination. The reporters were practically salivating over the scandal. But their excitement fizzled when they noticed the storm brewing on Dominick’s face. His icy expression could freeze hell itself, and the tension in the room became suffocating. Only then did they realize what they were doing. One order from Dominick, and everyone there would lose their job.

Even Alexis’s performance faltered under his unrelenting glare.

“Nick,” she whispered, her voice trembling. Her doe eyes shimmered with unshed tears, vulnerability, and immense shock.

Dominick didn’t look at her. His voice cut through the noise like a knife. “Get out.”

The reporters froze, then scrambled out of the room. They felt endless regret as Bruce and Brutus blocked them to check their cameras. They complained inwardly. Whose bright idea was it to stir this hornet’s nest? They dared to get Dominick's scandal.

Inside, the suite fell eerily silent. Dominick’s attention shifted back to Eleanor, still huddled under the blanket. Without a second thought, he yanked it off, ignoring Alexis’s shocked gasp. His voice was dangerously low as he asked, “You got those reporters here?”

Eleanor winced at his grip on her wrist, but the sight of Alexis, trembling with anger and humiliation, sent a wicked thrill through her. She raised her chin defiantly. “Yeah, I did.”

Dominick’s lips curled into a humorless smile. “You really think public pressure works on me?”

His coldness was like a dagger, but Eleanor refused to crumble. She blinked back tears and shot back, “I don’t give a damn about public pressure. I just wanted to sleep with you. Is that not allowed?”

“Eleanor!” Alexis finally snapped, her voice breaking with fury. She glared at the marks on their skin, her composure cracking as jealousy and rage bubbled to the surface. Sitting in her wheelchair, she looked every bit the tragic victim, though her eyes burned with hatred. “Dominick is my fiancé. He’s going to be your family. And you—you shameless homewrecker—you dare sleep with him!”

Eleanor let out a dry laugh, her tone dripping with scorn. “Oh, please. You were never my family. And homewrecker? Dominick and I slept together three years ago. Tell me, Alexis—who’s really out of line here?”