Page 1

Prologue

Don't stop. Keep going.

Leaves crunched and crackled under my soles like a fire roaring to life. The bottom of my feet stung from sharp pine needles and rocks like I was running over broken glass. Thin branches whipped across my face, making my skin bleed. My heart pounded in my ears. My chest ached with heaviness as my breathing became loud and ragged.

Despite what I felt, I ran. I ran because I had to. I ran because it was my only option. I ran because my life depended on it.

I ducked behind a tree, gasping for air and hoping for a moment of respite. My eyes were open wide, and yet, I couldn't see a damn thing. The forest was smeared out of focus like a Bokeh painting. Everything was dark, basked in a tainted moonlight as thick as smoke from a pipe. Shapes and shadows twisted in the darkness like monsters slipping out of dreams.

“This way!” a man called out. “She went this way!”

Every hair on my body shot up, prickling with fear as heavy boots vibrated the earth. I looked around, unsure of which direction to run. The sound of feet grew closer and closer, leaving me no other option but to keep running.

I took off again, blind as a bat but without the talent of echolocation. I ignored the surge of pain that shot through my heels and up my legs. My dress snagged on broken branches, tearing the thin satin like tissue paper and leaving me with new wounds dripping warm blood.

Heavy boots tracked me with the precision of a cougar hunting a deer. No matter how fast I ran through the forest, the feet were right behind me. It felt like a sick game, as if they were enjoying the chase. These soulless assholes allowed me to getahead just enough to let me think I was free, only to appear again right beside me.

I ran as hard and as fast as I could. I ran with a pure drive to escape—to break free, to save myself, to live. But running simply left a trail for them to follow. The men could see the broken branches and smell the fresh blood. So, I hid. I climbed down a small ravine and tucked myself under the edge, covering my body with loose debris.

Every inch of me was shaking and trembling. I did my best to steady my breathing and slow everything down to be as still as possible. In the silence of night, a single heartbeat could give my position away.

I heard voices closing in. They were mumbled voices, but I knew it was the men who were after me. Boots slammed to the ground, and voices whispered like crickets singing until it all stopped. Silence took over, leaving me with just the sound of my own shallow breathing.

I held my breath. My chest burned for air as I listened to the men talk. “She's close,” one of the men said.

“How can you tell? She could be anywhere,” the other man said.

The men were standing on the ridge directly above me. I could feel their weight as the ground sunk in and pressed down on my shoulders. Bits of dirt broke free, dropping onto my head and rolling down my arms.

“I can smell her.” The first man inhaled an audible breath. “Can't you smell her sweet cunt?”

“I'd rather fuck that sweet cunt,” the second man said with a laugh. “Which way?”

“Head that way. We'll drive her out. I'm done playing this game.”

Chapter One

Poppy

––––––––

“Poppy Aneska. My my my, look at you. You look stunning.” Dylan Graves grabbed my hand and spun me in place. His eyes licked up and down my body as if I was a delectable treat he could taste using only his sight.

I could feel his overly smooth fingers as they gripped mine. He was a man who didn't work an actual day in his pompous, rich, and comfortable life. The way his skin was softer than my own, and his nails gleamed like a freshly waxed car, was proof enough that he'd been living a life of luxury.

Dylan gave me a crooked smile, bouncing his eyebrows up and down as he said, “I could just eat you up.”

I wanted to throw up all over his expensive, powder gray Brioni suit and white collared shirt with a pastel pink tie. That would have sent him running in the opposite direction, spewing all sorts of crass words. Maybe it would even create a chain reaction. He'd yak because of my vomit, then someone else would yak, and more people would follow suit. The cycle would continue until everyone in the place was upchucking their Osetra Karat Gold Caviar and Louis Roederer Cristal Brut Champagne. The vomit itself would be worth ten times as much as the salary of the janitor who cleaned it.

But I refrained. I stayed respectful because that was what was expected of me. Be polite, smile when you're expected to smile, laugh when you're expected to laugh, even if the person you're speaking to is an asshole.

So, that's what I did. I forced a big smile as best I could and bowed my head with gratitude. “Thank you,” I said, my insidesseething with disgust. On the outside, I was as cool as ever. My smile appeared genuine, my eyes delicate, and my cheeks flushed slightly as if I was flattered. The rouge of my cheeks wasn't flattery at all; it was pure discomfort.

Dylan ran his thumb over my knuckles, squeezing my hand a little tighter. “I don't see your daddy around. It looks like he loosened his leash a bit for you tonight, huh?” He grinned a deep, thick scowl that made my skin crawl. Dylan had an aura about him. One that said,“I get what I want, and no one can tell me no.”He had been that way since the first time he walked into my father's office.

Dylan had been working with my father for years. He was in his early fifties, married with two children, and loose with his vows. I watched him over the years as he hit on different women who worked at my father's—or should I say,stepfather'spharmaceutical company.

My mother and father married when I was one. I never knew my biological father. My mother said very little about him, only telling me that he was a drifter she met when she was eighteen and wild. He came into her life like a storm and was gone before she knew she was pregnant. She didn't even know his full name. All she knew was he went by Vinny.