Page 165 of The Contract

I twist against his hold, my body coiled with tension, but he doesn’t let go.

“You’re going to work with me on this,” he growls, his fingers tightening like a vise around my wrist. “Just like we used to.”

“Fuck you,” I spit, struggling against his grip.

His lips curl. “Oh, sweetheart. You don’t understand what’s at stake here.”

He slams into me harder, his knee digging deeper between my legs, pinning me against the rough brick wall.

“My business partners need this deal to fall through,” he snaps, his voice low and venomous. “And you’re going to helpme make that happen. Or I swear to God, I’ll make sure you go down with me.”

I glare at him, my breathing hard, my skin burning where he grips me.

He leans in, his voice like gravel. “I don’t care what you say.”

Fury ignites in my veins, a slow burn turning into an inferno. My strength is wearing down, but I don’t let up.

I thrash and push. I try to scratch and claw, but I can’t.

His jaw clenches, and he growls against my neck. Revulsion rolls down my body in chills as I realize he has an erection and he’s grinding against me as I struggle.

“Get the fuck off me!” I buck and elbow, finding renewed motivation to get away from him.

"God, you still feel so fucking good," he grunts. "I hope you enjoyed fucking him because it ends today, sweetheart."

The words slice through me, but I don’t let him see it.

I get as much momentum as I can and ram my skull into his face. The crunch of his nose breaking is nearly as satisfying as the howl he yells.

He releases one of my wrists on instinct to cover his nose.

I use my newly freed hand and rake my nails down his cheek with every ounce of strength I have.

He roars, jerking back, but his grip on my wrist only tightens, bruising into my skin.

“Bitch,” he spits, fury twisting his features as he backhands me with all the strength he can muster at this close proximity.

White-hot pain explodes across my cheek, the crack of it ringing in my ears.

For a moment, everything tilts. My vision sparks.

The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth, but I don’t have time to dwell on it.

I swing my knee up—hard—and it lands exactly where I want it.

Adrian chokes on a strangled sound, doubling over as agony takes over.

I shove past him and run.

Every nerve in my body screams, my cheek throbbing, my lungs burning, but I don’t stop. I sprint toward the Blackstone, the towering glass structure a beacon of safety in the distance.

The town car is already waiting at the curb, the same driver from the other day standing beside it. I slow to a brisk walk.

I know I’m not fooling anyone.

He smiles, polite and professional, but the moment he takes me in, his expression shifts—concern bleeding into his features.

“Everything okay, Ms. Moreau?” His voice is cautious, his gaze flicking past me.

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