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“I hate pink,” I say flatly. “Give me a different color next time at least.”

He scoffs, reaching for a nearby glass of whiskey and downing it with one quick motion. “Be thankful I let you out.”

The comment is so infuriating, so degrading, that I snap.

Dropping into a dramatic bow, I practically spit the words at him. “Forgive me, your highness. Oh, thank you for your kindness. You do treat your whores well and I was being rude. Please, how may I serve you?”

When I straighten, I’m met with venom in his eyes.

He grabs my hand so hard I’m surprised bones don’t break. “You want to be treated like a whore? Fine.”

I yelp as he drags me across the penthouse, my skin prickling under the weight of every stare and every mocking laugh.

Julian stops abruptly in front of a tan-skinned man with long dark hair. “Lucas,” Julian says coolly. “You said I owe you? Here. Have fun.”

I’m flung at Lucas, crashing into him as the breath leaves my body in a rush. Lucas grips my shoulders to steady me and we both stare at Julian—his back already turned to us as if dismissing something he’s tired of dealing with.

“You think this makes up for what you did?” Lucas growls, his hold on me tightening.

Julian doesn’t look back. “It’s enough for now. Take her to a room and get it over with. ”

A breathless panic grips me. This is real. This is happening. Julian is giving me away like a piece of property, and the worst part is I can’t even pretend to be surprised.

Lucas’ fingers dig into my skin as he drags me toward the hallway. I glance around wildly, desperate for an escape or an ally, but every face in the room is indifferent. The walls are closing in around me, leaving no room for hope or defiance.

Gregory moves quickly across the floor to intercept Julian, his voice a low murmur at first. He casts a quick glance my way and gives me a flash of sympathy that doesn’t quite fit with the rest of this nightmare.

What’s his angle?

“Come on,” Lucas says.

We push through the crowd, and I catch a glimpse of Lady Harrow, her lips curved in a triumphant sneer. “Congratulations, Lucas,” she calls out. “You’re the first to get the Golden One. How fortunate—you get her before she’s too used up.”

Fury blinds me. I lunge at her with every intention of leaving a mark, but Lucas senses my movement and locks my arms in his iron grip.

“You’ll only make it worse,” he mutters, dragging me down the hall as I thrash against him.

We reach an empty guest room, and he shoves me inside with a final burst of force. The door slams shut behind him.

My eyes dart around the room, searching for a weapon or a window—anything—but it’s just four walls and despair closing in on me. My breath comes ragged and fast.

Lucas leans against the door, looking weary. He runs a hand through his long hair as if this is the last thing he wants to do but knows he will anyway. “Take off the dress,” he says flatly, undoing his belt.

I force myself to breathe—to think. I can’t let panic cloud my judgment. I have to turn this to my advantage somehow. “Okay,” I say slowly, summoning every ounce of resolve I have left. “But… why don’t you sit down and enjoy a show?”

His eyes narrow slightly. Is that interest? Hesitation?

“Don’t you want to be teased?” I add, letting my voice slip into something almost playful—a tone that grates against my soul but might buy me time.

He studies me for a beat too long and I’m worried he’ll say no. Finally, he moves to the bed. “If that’s how you want it, I can accommodate that.”

The tension in his posture eases just a bit as he sits. But not enough. Not nearly enough for what I need.

I reach for the zipper at my side, keeping one eye trained on him. He’s still watching me with that maddeningly unreadable expression—somewhere between boredom and anticipation.

Think like them , I command myself. Manipulate or be manipulated.

I slide the dress down my shoulders, inch by inch, dragging out each moment like I have all the time in the world.

His eyes track my every movement, but I don’t miss the way his fingers twitch impatiently at his side.

The fabric pools at my feet and his gaze goes straight to the ugly burns that snake across my skin.

“Seems they’ve already damaged you,” he comments.

The words sting more than I expect them to. “Damaged but still a good fuck,” I reply.

He laughs.

I reach behind me and start undoing my bra, watching for that moment when his focus slips.

Then it happens—a flash of raw want crosses his face and I move in, straddling him as his hands latch eagerly onto my breasts. He’s distracted now, fully absorbed in the fantasy of power and control.

I lean into him, letting my bra slip off entirely before winding it playfully around his wrists behind his back. “Not yet,” I whisper.

He doesn’t even resist; he’s lost in the illusion that this is a game he’s still winning. Our lips crash together and I can taste triumph just beneath the surface of desperation.

My fingers find the silk of his tie, teasing at first before pulling it free with a decisive tug.

Everything shifts in an instant—my grip tightens around the fabric and I loop it viciously around his throat. His eyes go wide with shock and then panic as he realizes what’s happening too late. Every muscle in my body burns as I pull harder and harder until he finally stops struggling.

His lifeless weight slumps forward, nearly taking me with it as I stagger back off him. For a second all I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears and the ragged sound of my own breathing .

I dress quickly before slipping out into the hallway, grinning.

When I return to the living room, Julian’s eyes find me almost immediately.

I grab a glass of champagne from a passing waiter along with a handful of delicate hors d’oeuvres and devour them both greedily. They taste like victory even as they threaten to choke me.

Julian closes the distance between us. “Where’s Lucas?” he demands.

“Had too much fun,” I say breezily through another bite. “He needs to rest for a bit.” A wicked smile curves on my lips as I drop the final bomb. “Fucked me so much better than you ever did.”

His reaction is immediate—his composure shatters and fury takes its place. He storms off toward the room.

I down another glass of champagne because I might as well get buzzed while waiting for the inevitable. It’s actually nice to have zero fucks left to give.

It doesn’t take long before Julian returns, his eyes murderous.

I laugh—sharp, defiant, and loud enough to cut through the noise. It echoes like a gunshot, drawing every eye in the room.

“Get her the fuck out of here,” Julian shouts to the guards.

They close in, strong arms gripping me from both sides, but I don’t make it easy. I kick and thrash against their hold, my laughter turning wild and unhinged. It’s the sound of a woman with nothing left to lose.

The crowd parts as they drag me away, shocked whispers trailing in my wake.