Taming the Bankrupt Heiress

Month three of keeping the untouchable Vance captive, my family's empire went bankrupt.

I was grinding through exhausting shifts every single day just to keep us afloat, leaving me with zero time to monitor the cameras or torment him.

I was too utterly exhausted to even engage in our usual, highly charged physical warfare.

At first, he relished the distance. "I hope you get sick of me soon so you can finally let me out of this hellhole." But later, when I actually gave up on him and walked away for good… He hunted me down across the country.

That usually cold, untouchable face of his twisted with paranoia and a raw, bruising possessiveness. "Did you find yourself a new pet out there?

You think you can just throw me away? I'll bleed out right in front of you." Chapter 1 I kidnapped the most untouchable man I knew.

For three consecutive months, every single day in the massive bed of this lavish mansion was a relentless power play of conquest and submission.

On the rare occasions I left to go shopping, I stayed glued to the security feeds, relentlessly bombarding his phone with provocative texts.

Vance's jaw ticked hard. "Blair, you can't force love." I didn't even blink. "Maybe. But we can sure as hell make it." I tossed a velvet box onto his lap. "Here.

I bought you a present. Open it." Under my intense stare, his lips pressed into a thin line as he popped the lid.

The moment he saw the custom leather chest harness resting inside, that icy, composed mask of his fractured.

A vein pulsed steadily at his temple. "Who the hell told you to buy something like this?" I let out a smug, cold laugh, looking every inch the wicked queen. "Told me?

You think I need instructions on how to play with you? I had it custommade just for you. And trust me, you're wearing it. Either willingly, or I force it on you.

Then we can stand in front of the mirror, just like last time…" At the word mirror, his breathing hitched, instantly turning heavy and jagged.

His Adam's apple bobbed convulsively. "Blair, do you have zero shame?" He glared at me, eyes dark with humiliation. "You just throw your family's money and power around.

Aren't you terrified that one day your empire will crash and burn—" I threw my head back and laughed. "Our family is old money with a massive trust fund.

We bought half of Wall Street generations ago. You want to see us go bankrupt? Not in this lifetime! When he remained frozen like a statue, my patience snapped.

I snatched the harness from the box, stepped onto my tiptoes, and moved to strap it on him myself. Then the living room phone started ringing. And it wouldn't stop.

I sighed, dropping the leather straps back into the box, and patted his sharply defined cheek. "You better have this on by the time I get back.

Or you know exactly what the consequences will be." I had no idea picking up that receiver would obliterate my entire life.

My dad's desperate roar exploded through the line: "Blair, the FBI just seized our offshore accounts.

The family is bankrupt, and I'm on a private jet fleeing to Mexico!" The words hit me like a physical blow. Bankrupt. My dad was running.

Without my dad's billions shielding me, Vance would instantly call the cops. The thought of rotting in a federal cell for kidnapping paralyzed me.

A choked gasp tore from my throat as my knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the couch.

Vance stepped out of the bedroom, his dark brows pulled into a tight frown. "What is wrong with you?" I shot up from the cushions. "Vance, are you actually worried about me?" If he's worried, there are feelings.

If there are feelings, maybe he won't have me arrested.

He let out a harsh, dismissive scoff. "I'm worried you'll drop dead, and I'll be the prime suspect." He crossed his arms, his biceps straining against his shirt. "And for the record, Blair, I'd rather die than put that fucking thing on." "…Oh." I slumped back against the upholstery, all the energy draining out of me.

Vance's spine locked. His eyes narrowed, studying my slumped form before a knowing smirk touched the corner of his mouth. "Cute.

But changing your tactics isn't going to work on me." He threw out that cryptic sentence and turned on his heel, striding into the kitchen. Soon, the smell of dinner drifted out.

I dragged my feet toward the dining room like a walking corpse and pulled out the chair directly across from him. Vance's expression flatlined.

Normally, I demanded to sit in his lap while we ate. Today, I just sat in my own chair. Look at him, he was probably so thrilled he couldn't process it.

The reality of my bankruptcy made the food taste like cardboard. I didn't even have the energy to throw out my usual dirty banter. Vance had to be ecstatic.

All he ever wanted was for me to shut my mouth. Sure enough, his jaw muscles flexed visibly as he chewed, clearly energized by my silence. I let out a pathetic, barely audible sigh.

Smack. Vance slammed his silverware down on the table. His jaw locked tight as he abruptly stood and started clearing the plates. Great.

Now he didn't even have the patience to sit at the same table as me… Chapter 2 If Vance found out I was bankrupt? Game over.

I lost the urge to press myself against his back and run my hands over his abs while he washed the dishes.

My brain was running a million miles a minute trying to figure out how to fake my wealth.

How was I supposed to keep a dangerous, unpredictable man under my thumb with exactly 250 dollars left in my bank account? Then, it hit me. Pure genius.

I'd just fake my daily shopping sprees and clubbing. I would keep up the illusion of my bottomless trust fund for Vance.

In reality, I'd go get a chic corporate job, make some easy cash, and keep him comfortably caged. God, my mind amazed me. Reality hit like a Mack truck.

Being a professional trustfund baby didn't exactly scream hire me to corporate recruiters. Only a rundown diner deep in Brooklyn was willing to take me.

The hourly wage was a joke, and I was going to have to survive on pathetic tips. I went from a Manhattan socialite dripping in haute couture to a greasestained maid.

Before, no matter what time I strutted out the door, I always cornered Vance and forced a goodbye kiss out of him. Now?

My psychotic manager tracked our shifts to the second, docking pay for being a minute late.

I barely had time to splash cold water on my face before sprinting out the door, let alone play dominatrix. Before, I'd blow up his phone with filthy texts all day long.

Now, I couldn't even glance at my screen. My entire lunch break was ten miserable minutes. I barely had time to choke down a stale sandwich!

I had never realized how painfully long a sixday workweek was. The second I got home on Saturday, I faceplanted onto the sofa. I was never working another day in my life.

Even with my eyes glued shut, my brain was mentally cataloging everything in this house I could pawn to survive the month.

But all my diamonds and Birkins were locked inside the family estate, and the Feds had that completely sealed off.

While I was desperately crunching numbers in my head, a pair of cool hands gripped my jaw. I jumped, my heart slamming into my ribs.

My eyes snapped open, locking dead onto Vance's icecold, chiseled face. His long fingers moved down his shirt, unfastening the buttons one by one. My eyes went wide.

Right there, strapped tight against his skin, was the sixfigure custom leather harness he had sworn he'd rather die than wear a few days ago.

A faint flush crept up his neck, but his voice was pure steel. "Blair, is playing the ice queen all week your twisted way of punishing me for not wearing this?

If you want to fuck, then let's get it over with. I'm not in the mood for your pathetic little cold war games." I barely processed a single word he said.

My eyes locked on the expensive leather biting into his torso.

I swallowed hard, my voice actually stammering. "Vance… do you hate wearing that?" A harsh, mocking scoff tore from his throat. "Obviously, Princess." He leaned down, bringing his face dangerously close to mine. "Isn't this exactly your fetish?" "Forcing me to do the things I despise." He wasn't entirely wrong.

My absolute favorite pastime was watching his dark brows pull together, his thick lashes trembling with humiliated fury while he had no choice but to obey my every command.

But times had changed. I awkwardly scratched the back of my neck. "Alright, fine. I admit I pushed it too far. If you don't want to wear it, you don't have to.

Take it off right now." That flawlessly handsome face of his went blank, his mind shortcircuiting.

I stared hungrily at the leather straps, holding both my hands out, palms up. "Just take it off, but don't drop it.

Hand it straight to me!" He stared at me in dead silence before a twisted, knowing smirk crossed his lips. "If you want to use it to whip me, just say the word." His eyes darkened. "Stop pretending to be so damn generous." I instantly flashed back to the riding crop I had used on him that one time, and my throat clicked shut.

Vance roughly unbuckled the sixfigure custom leather harness, exposing his heavily muscled chest, and slammed the leather hard onto the mattress.

I lunged forward and carefully scooped up my sixfigure lifeline, hugging it to my chest. When I lifted my head again, my breath instantly hitched.

Vance was halfkneeling on the massive mattress. Pale skin stretching tightly over a perfectly sculpted, hardmuscled core.

He lowered his gaze in quiet, forced submission, his thick lashes casting dark shadows over his cheekbones. My eyes locked onto the flex of his abs as he let out a ragged breath.

Holy hell. Chapter 3 Any other day, I would have pounced on him like a starving predator. But tonight, my libido was dead on arrival.

I was dead on my feet, but unwilling to admit I was too physically destroyed to perform.

I forced a dry cough to cover my failure. "Vance, I've been doing a lot of soulsearching lately, and I realized you were completely right.

I really need to start respecting your boundaries. Take tonight, for example. I know you definitely don't want to sleep with me.

Let's just lie down and get a solid eight hours." The second the words left my mouth, my shoulders dropped in profound relief.

Terrified my exhausted facade would crack, I practically dove under the heavy duvet. Because of that, I completely missed whatever expression was on Vance's face.

Not that I needed to look. He was probably experiencing absolute euphoria. Considering every time we fucked, I practically had to hold him hostage for it.

A few minutes later, the covers were abruptly lifted. Vance's scorching, solid chest pressed flush against my back.

His powerful arms wrapped around my waist like iron bands, locking me securely against him.

The intense scent of his masculine pheromones instantly enveloped me, carrying an undeniable, suffocating pressure. His burning hot body completely engulfed mine.

Normally, this was my absolute favorite position. I literally ordered Vance to hold me like this every single night.

But now that I was surviving a minimumwage grind, my neck and spine felt like shattered glass. Being locked in this death grip was pure physical torture!

I squirmed, trying to break free. But Vance's arm didn't yield a single inch. I quickly tapped his forearm. "Vance. You can let me go.

I know how much you hate holding me like this." "You don't have to force yourself anymore." The thick muscles caging me went rigid. Then, he released me.

His voice cut through the dark like ice. "I couldn't ask for anything better. Blair, don't think for a second your pathetic little tantrums actually get to me.

I'm counting down the seconds until you get sick of me and finally let me walk out that door." If he had said that to me a week ago, my blood would have boiled over.

I would have straddled him and ridden him until he couldn't speak. But tonight, the exhaustion was absolute. Within minutes, my consciousness flatlined into a deep sleep.

I didn't wake up until past noon the next day. By the time I dragged myself out of bed, Vance had already cooked lunch.

Sitting across the dining table, his sculpted face radiated subzero hostility. My brilliant brain instantly connected it to what he said last night.

I swallowed a mouthful of food and quickly clarified, "I'm seriously not mad about you refusing to wear the harness. That's basically ancient history.

I'm genuinely trying to learn how to respect your boundaries." Vance slowly lifted his gaze. His pupils dilated, pitchblack and predatory. "Oh?

After forcing me into this hell for months, you suddenly developed a conscience?" Cornered by a question I couldn't answer, my mouth went on autopilot. "Uh, well, a friend told me that love equals respect." The corner of his mouth curved up in a sharp, dangerous angle. "Which friend?" I blurted out the first lie that hit my brain. "…A new friend." Right at that exact second, my phone chimed.

I glanced down. It was my resale app. Holy shit. Someone just bought the harness! The adrenaline spiked so hard I practically slammed my chopsticks down and leaped out of my chair.

I bolted straight to the bedroom to pack up the leather. I was actually humming to myself as I taped the box.

With this cash, if I budget tight, I can survive for at least another six months. Once I'm financially stable, I'm quitting that grease pit immediately.

Then Vance and I can go right back to fucking like complete degenerates twentyfourseven. Until a dark, chilling voice drifted from the doorway. "Packing it so beautifully.

Who is it for?" I hadn't heard Vance's footsteps at all. I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat. "Jjust that new friend!

He, uh, he mentioned he really liked the harness, and since you didn't want it, I figured I'd just give it to him…" God.

I hadn't even rehearsed that lie, and it just rolled off my tongue like butter. My own brilliance terrified me. Vance's tone was devoid of any decipherable emotion. "Oh.

How generous of you." I nodded vigorously, playing the part. "Exactly! I'm just trying to respect your space.

I didn't want you to have to look at it and get upset." A low, dark chuckle vibrated in his throat. "You are definitely respecting me. But Blair—" Chapter 4 I looked up, confused.

The dark depths of his eyes were devoid of warmth. "If you actually respected me, why don't you let me walk out that door?" Normally, his icy hostility bounced right off me.

But the bonedeep exhaustion from my miserable shifts was finally catching up.

I was breaking my back just to keep food in his mouth, and he was still obsessing over leaving me, shooting these passiveaggressive daggers.

A tight, heavy knot formed in the center of my chest. Selling that harness would only buy us a little time. I had no idea what I was going to do after the cash ran out.

The words slipped out in a barely audible whisper. "Yeah… maybe I really will have to let you go soon." Vance's face went stonecold. "What did you just say?" I waved my hands frantically. "Nothing.

Forget it." For the next few days, I fell right back into the brutal corporate meat grinder. My shifts stretched longer, and I dragged myself home later and later.

Vance was always dead asleep by the time I crawled into bed. But every single morning when I opened my eyes, I was somehow securely locked against his chest again. Anyway!

The day to finally hand over the harness arrived. I stood at the designated meetup spot on the sidewalk.

From a distance, a gorgeous guy with pale skin and an elegant, aloof vibe strolled toward me. Honestly, he was exactly Vance's type.

I clutched the velvet box and waved at him enthusiastically. His eyes lit up the second he saw me, and he quickened his pace. The transaction was seconds from being finalized.

Suddenly, a massive hand clamped down hard on my wrist. My eyes went wide with pure shock.

Vance, the man who was supposed to be securely chained up in my house, was looming right in front of me. The air pressure around him plummeted.

The corners of his eyes were rimmed with red, radiating a dangerous, violent possessiveness. "This is the 'new friend' you scouted?" He leaned in, his voice a lethal rasp. "Blair, if you smile at him one more time, see what happens." How the hell did he break out of his ankle cuffs?!

My brain shortcircuited. But I didn't have a single second to process it. My survival instincts kicked in.

I hooked my arm tightly through his, locking him against my side like a human vise, and hissed under my breath, "Don't move and don't say a damn word, or your little sister in the hospital is going to pay for it!" At the exact same time, I forced a bright, plastic smile and waved at the buyer.

The guy's polite smile faltered slightly. "Blair, is this your boyfriend?" I desperately wanted to nod, but provoking Vance right now was a death wish.

I let out a painfully awkward laugh. "Oh, no! This is my older brother." Vance's jaw locked so hard I thought his teeth would shatter.

I practically shoved the velvet box into the buyer's hands, desperate to kill the interaction before a bloodbath started. "Here you go!" The guy took the box and opened his mouth to speak.

Vance cut him off with ice. "You have no problem taking another man's used leftovers?" The buyer's face flushed dark red with immediate offense. "Excuse me?

The whole point of the app is selling secondhand stuff. If you're so damn above it, why are you letting your sister sell used gear on the street?" Oh, god. I'm dead.

Vance just found out I was selling his harness. Which meant he also knew this guy wasn't some 'new friend'. Vance was dangerously smart.

Would he connect the dots, realize my family was bankrupt, and make a run for it?

I started rambling frantic apologies to the buyer, loudly claiming my brother was off his psychiatric meds. My pulse hammered in my throat as I nervously peeked at Vance's face.

Instead of exploding, an inexplicable, terrifyingly calm smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He didn't say another word to sabotage the deal.

Even after the buyer walked away, Vance docilely followed me straight back up to the apartment without a single complaint. He must not have figured out I'm broke yet.

I opened my mouth to speak, paralyzed on how to spin this lie.

Chapter 5 Vance broke the silence first, letting out a harsh scoff. "You were so pissed off I wouldn't wear that thing, you actually went and sold it?

Blair, your temper is out of control.

I don't have the energy to play these petty mind games with you." His tone was grating and reluctant, but the tips of his ears were flushed a deep red—probably from the heat. "Just buy another one.

I'll wear it, alright?" I sucked in a sharp breath. Thank god he didn't actually want it that badly. Because I sure as hell didn't have the cash to buy a replacement.

Still, the fact that I had accidentally left the keys to his ankle cuffs out the other day was terrifying.

I immediately doublechecked that they were securely locked away in my pocket. Since the harness cash had hit my account, I quit that nightmare diner job immediately.

I spent the first two days dead to the world, sleeping around the clock. Once my body finally recovered, my mind went straight to the gutter.

Especially since the very first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Vance's flawless face. I swallowed hard, failing to control myself.

I buried my face into his heavy, muscular chest, letting out a deeply satisfied sigh. A muffled, deep groan vibrated in Vance's throat. "You have got to be kidding me.

It's the crack of dawn and you're already…" I ignored his complaining and smugly straddled his hips. Ding. Ding. Ding. Three familiar notifications chimed from my phone.

It was the resale app! The funds must have cleared! I practically vibrated with excitement as I snatched my phone off the nightstand.

I unlocked the screen, and my world collapsed. [Buyer: Pretty sure this is a knockoff.] [Buyer: I don't want it anymore.] [Buyer: Process my return.] A strangled shriek tore from my throat.

I forgot what I was doing and frantically typed back. [It is 100% authentic.] [I bought it directly from the designer boutique, I have the receipts!] [Buyer: Whatever.

Your listing didn't say final sale.] I was having a total meltdown. How could this guy flip the script the second he took it home?

I shifted my hips, aggressively hammering away on my keyboard to argue with him.

The veins on Vance's forehead bulged, his Adam's apple bobbing hard as he forced out a dark, ragged rasp through gritted teeth. "Blair!

If you dare stop right now, I swear I'll make you regret teasing me." Any other day, seeing Vance look that desperate and feral was my ultimate turnon.

There was zero chance I would walk away from a feast like that. But right at that exact second, the buyer called my phone! Enraged, I scrambled off him and bolted upright.

Right before I marched out to the living room to take the call, I tossed over my shoulder, "Don't wait up for me.

Get out of bed and make breakfast." His handsome, flushed face darkened. "That's a joke.

Who the hell was waiting for you?" he snapped. "I wasn't in the mood for you anyway." The harness ended up being forcefully returned. I was out of options.

I had to hunt down another job. I ended up at a remote subsidiary under the Vance Conglomerate. The pay was even more insulting. The corporate exploitation was significantly worse.

But the absolute worst part was my direct supervisor. He was a sleazebag.

After I loudly threatened him for getting handsy with me, he made it his personal mission to make my life a living hell. I was physically and mentally drained.

But I didn't dare quit. Because if I lost this paycheck, the man locked in my house was going to starve to death right along with me.

One scorching afternoon, that creepy old bastard intentionally set me up again, forcing me to leave halfway through my shift to run home for a "missing" document.

And he actually had the nerve to dock my pay, counting it as personal time off. It was boiling outside. I desperately wanted to call an Uber.

But after doing the mental math, I realized biking home would save just enough cash to buy the premium ribeye steaks Vance loved so much. So I took the bike.

Halfway home, a reckless delivery driver clipped me. I went flying, slamming hard into the unforgiving pavement. The asphalt tore the skin right off my palms and knees.

I choked down the stinging pain, limping the entire ride back to the apartment. But the second I pushed open the front door… I heard Vance talking on a phone.

Which was impossible, because I had strictly confiscated his devices. He was only supposed to be able to contact me. Vance's voice was ice. I could only catch a few distinct words.

Chapter 6 The cops are called. The raid is in three days. My knees gave out. I collapsed against the wall, sliding down to the cold floor. I'm dead.

But beneath the terror of a federal prison sentence, a heavy, suffocating ache clamped down on my chest. Vance felt nothing for me.

He despised me, counting down the seconds until he could lock me in a cage.

I forced myself to stand, deliberately kicking the doorframe to make a loud noise before pushing the front door open.

Sure enough, Vance was lounging on the sofa, casually flipping through a book. There was no trace of the phone. He glanced up, his tone flat. "What a surprise.

You actually decided to come home ear—" His gaze caught on my bleeding knees, and his voice snapped in half. "What the hell happened to you?" He abandoned the book, immediately grabbing the first aid kit from the cabinet.

He dropped to one knee in front of me, his jaw clenched tight as he began cleaning the shredded skin on my palms. "You get yourself wrecked and your first instinct is to just drag yourself back here?" His touch was at odds with his harsh tone.

His long fingers moved with striking gentleness, swiping the antiseptic over my cuts like I was made of fragile glass.

That deceptive tenderness fed a pathetic, dying spark of hope in my chest.

My voice came out small and cracked. "Vance… if I let you walk out that door right now, would you promise not to call the cops on me?" His hand froze.

The cotton swab hovered motionless over my skin.

When he finally answered, his voice was pure, unforgiving ice. "No." He lifted his dark eyes, a slow, mocking smirk stretching across his lips. "Why the sudden generosity?" "Did you find yourself another new friend to play with?" I swallowed the heavy lump of ash in my throat.

I was literally staring down the barrel of a prison sentence, and he was still mocking me. The last trace of fight drained right out of my body. Fine.

Then I had exactly fortyeight hours to pack my bags and disappear. I wanted to bolt out the door that exact second.

But I was so broke I couldn't even afford a bus ticket out of state.

Quitting the miserable corporate job was instant, but my final paycheck wouldn't hit my bank account for another two days. It was a brutal, pathetic reality check.

When you're dead broke, even running for your life has a mandatory waiting period. The only shred of twisted luck I had left was the timeline.

Thank God Vance told the cops to wait until the third day to raid the place. For the next two days… I kept up the act, coming home right on schedule.

Since I was vanishing anyway, I figured I owed him the truth.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, watching his broad back as he cooked. "By the way, your sister's illness has been fully cured for a while now.

You don't have to stress about those insane medical bills anymore. I paid her tuition for an elite private elementary school.

She's actually been attending classes this whole time." Vance just gave a low "Oh." Then, as if running on a conditioned reflex, he turned around and leaned down to kiss me.

I froze, immediately pressing my hands flat against his solid chest to stop him. When I first locked him in this house, he refused to touch my lips. So, I used leverage.

I'd lean in and whisper, One kiss for one update on your sister. Vance, you wouldn't want to lose track of her, would you?

The look of rigid reluctance in his eyes back then was exactly the same as the one he wore right now. A hollow sigh escaped my lips.

I mumbled under my breath, "Well, congratulations. You'll never have to force yourself to kiss me again." The muscles under my palms immediately locked.

Vance's brows pulled together in a sharp V. "What did you just say?" I panicked, falling back on my usual cover. "Nothing!

Just talking to myself." But this time, he wasn't letting it go.

He stepped into my space, eliminating the distance between us. "First you ask if I'll call the cops if you let me go." His voice dropped an octave, a dark, dangerous rumble. "Now you're saying I won't ever have to kiss you again.

Blair." He looked unfairly gorgeous, but the energy radiating off him was utterly terrifying. "What exactly are you plotting in that little head of yours?" My heart slammed against my ribs.

Cold sweat practically dripped down my spine. If I got caught by the Feds tomorrow night, it would be a hundred percent because I couldn't keep my stupid mouth shut.

I started rambling like a maniac out of pure fightorflight panic. "Plotting? Me? Haha, no way. Everything I do is completely out in the open! I was just messing with you!

Just wait, I'm gonna kidnap a whole new guy to bring back here just to keep you on your toes!

Ha… ha… ha—" The murderous, suffocating aura radiating off Vance was so intense that my fake laughter choked in my throat. I clamped my mouth shut.

The corner of his mouth curved into a dangerous, highly predatory smirk. "Alright then.

I'll be waiting to see that." Chapter 7 Over the next fortyeight hours, Vance suddenly became incredibly talkative. The pattern was always the same: sharp, biting, and relentless.

When he was cleaning my wounds and I let out a sharp hiss of pain, he just smirked. "Oh, am I too rough for you?

Maybe you should just kidnap a guy with a gentler touch." Before bed, when I asked him to grab my manga and he brought the wrong volume, I got up to get it myself.

He just let out a cold chuckle. "What, I'm not keeping track of your reading list well enough?

Next time, kidnap a guy who actually reads that shit." Right before I headed out for my final shift, I realized I'd forgotten my notebook.

When I asked him to hand it to me, he just smiled that dangerous, knowing smile again. "Upset I didn't pack your bag for you last night?

Guess you'll just have to kidnap a guy who—mmph." I cut off his insufferable rambling with a hard, desperate kiss.

When I pulled away, for the first time ever, Vance looked genuinely dazed, his eyes clouded with a rare, lingering hunger.

I lowered my gaze, then looked back up at him with a final, bright smile. "Goodbye, Vance!" He stood there, leaning against the doorframe with a casual, lazy grace.

Usually, he was ecstatic whenever I left the house. Today was no different—I could see the faint trace of genuine pleasure on his face. "Blair, it's supposed to rain tonight.

Watch yourself on that bike.

Don't come back here with more shredded skin." He looked away, his face twisting back into his usual mask of bored impatience. "Otherwise, I'll have to keep wasting my time cleaning your wounds.

It's a hassle." By the time I boarded the ferry, it was past 11:00 PM.

Right before we pushed off, I sent him one last text: [The key to your ankle cuffs is taped behind the calendar.

You're free.] Vance replied instantly: [?] [Found a new dog out there already?] [Abandoning me?

I'll bleed out right in front of you.] Then my phone started exploding with backtoback calls.

My fingers trembled as I blocked his number, ripped the SIM card out, and tossed it into the dark waves of the ocean. I still had a backup work card he didn't know about.

The next morning, my phone buzzed with frantic texts from my old coworkers. [Blair, how the hell do you know the heir to the Vance Conglomerate?!] [He stormed into the office this morning looking like he was ready to commit a massacre