Bitten By The Billionaire: My Darkest Night

She stood rigid against the counter, her hands gripping the stainless steel edge so hard her fingernails scraped against the metal.

She calculated the angle of a defensive kick. If he grabbed her, she would break his knee. Cover be damned.

"Please," she whimpered, channeling every ounce of vulnerability she possessed. "Take the money back. I won't tell anyone. Just open the door."

"It's not about the money."

The voice came from the void directly in front of her. It was low, distorted, metallic. A voice modulator. He was hiding his identity.

He stepped closer. She could feel his body heat now, radiating off him in waves. He was tall, looming over her in the blackness.

He reached out. His hand found her neck.

She flinched.

His fingers were impossibly cold. Like ice. Like a corpse.

The shock of the temperature difference made her gasp. Her pulse jumped under his thumb, hammering a frantic rhythm against his skin.

Bradford closed his eyes in the dark. The rapid, terrified beat of her heart under his fingertips was intoxicating. It was a drumbeat that drowned out the static in his brain. It grounded him.

He traced the line of her jaw with his thumb. It was slow, clinical.

She shuddered. It felt like a violation, but it also felt... searching. He wasn't groping her. He was mapping her.

"You're terrified," he observed. It wasn't a question. It was data collection.

"Yes," she lied. "Please let me go."

He leaned in. His face was inches from hers. She couldn't see him, but she could smell him. Antiseptic. Expensive scotch. And something sharp and metallic-like copper.

"Why do you come back?" he asked. The synthesized voice grated on her ears. "You know it's dangerous. You know what I am."

"I need... I need the money," she stammered.

He laughed softly. It was a dark, dry sound, devoid of humor.

"Everyone has a price. What is yours, Girl?"

He pressed her harder against the counter. His grip on her shoulder tightened, becoming controlling, possessing.

Panic spiked in her chest. Did he know? Was he toying with her before he executed her?

"Stay still," he commanded. The authority in his voice was absolute. "I need to check something."