Escaping The Billionaire's Deadly Surrogate Trap

The heavy door to the VIP booth opened, and Blaire was shoved roughly inside. She stumbled forward, her knees hitting the thick Persian rug with a painful thud. The door clicked shut behind her, locking automatically.

The silence in the room was absolute. The soundproofing completely killed the heavy bass from the club below. The only sound was the faint hiss of a humidifier in the corner.

Blaire slowly lifted her head. Her eyes adjusted to the dim, amber lighting. Her gaze landed on the man sitting in the center of the massive leather sofa, radiating the aura of a king holding court.

When she recognized the cold, flawless face of Kamryn Lane, her heart stopped beating. It felt like an invisible hand had reached into her chest and crushed her lungs.

Pure terror made her shrink backward. She quickly ducked her head, letting the wild red wig fall forward to cover her face. She prayed to whatever god was listening that he would not recognize her.

Kamryn leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes roamed over her body like a predator assessing a trapped animal. The look was highly invasive.

He let out a low scoff. The deep sound vibrated in the quiet room. He mocked her, saying she looked like a terrified rabbit, completely different from the slutty dancer on stage.

Blaire ground her teeth together. She forced her vocal cords to tighten, dropping her voice into a raspy, unfamiliar register. She told him she was just a dancer, calling him "sir."

The submissive answer seemed to irritate Kamryn. He stood up. His expensive leather shoes made soft, heavy thuds against the rug as he walked toward her.

He stopped right in front of her. He looked down, then suddenly lifted the toe of his polished shoe, hooking it under her chin and forcing her head up.

Blaire had no choice but to look up. Her heavily painted face was fully exposed to him. She bit the inside of her cheek until it bled, refusing to let the panic show in her eyes.

Kamryn's gaze lingered on her thick eyeliner for a second. His brow furrowed slightly, as if something didn't add up, but the raw lust in his eyes quickly burned away the doubt.

He bent down suddenly. His large hand clamped around her wrist. He yanked her up from the floor with brutal force, pulling her flush against his hard chest.

Blaire gasped. She pressed her hands against his chest, trying to push him away. His other arm wrapped around her waist like an iron band, locking her in place.

Kamryn lowered his head. His nose brushed against her cheek. He inhaled deeply, then scowled in disgust, muttering about the cheap, nauseating perfume she was wearing.

Before Blaire could struggle again, Kamryn's hand moved to the back of her neck. He tilted her head back and crashed his mouth down on her cheap red lipstick.

The kiss was a punishment. It was a violent invasion. He forced her lips apart, kissing her with a frantic, consuming hunger that terrified her.

As their mouths clashed, a sudden, violent jolt of recognition hit Kamryn's brain. The soft yield of her lips, the faint, underlying scent of citrus beneath the nauseating perfume-it was identical to the woman from the hotel yesterday. His brow furrowed in deep confusion. Impossible, he thought, his mind racing to reject the absurd coincidence. It's just a cheap trick. But the physical memory was undeniable, making his heart hammer in a way he despised.

A wave of absolute degradation washed over Blaire. She had suffered under his body just yesterday, and now she was being violated by him again.

Her fear instantly turned into blinding rage. Blaire clamped her teeth down hard on his lower lip. The sharp metallic taste of blood flooded both of their mouths.

Kamryn let out a muffled groan of pain. He shoved her away. He lifted his thumb and wiped the blood from his mouth. His dark eyes flared with a dangerous, violent light.

Blaire fell back onto the sofa. She panted heavily, her chest heaving. She glared at him like a cornered leopard, ready to fight to the death.

To her shock, Kamryn did not explode. He licked the blood off his lip. A low, dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. Her wildness seemed to turn him on even more.

He walked over to the small bar cart and poured himself a drink. With his back to her, he stated his terms in a voice made of ice. One million dollars a month. Be his exclusive mistress.

The number hit Blaire like a physical shock. One million dollars. It was enough to disappear forever, to completely sever ties with the Terrell family.

But then Kamryn turned around. The absolute contempt in his eyes made her stomach turn. If she agreed, she would truly become the cheap whore he thought she was.

Blaire curled her hands into fists. Her nails dug so hard into her palms they broke the skin. She stood up, looked him dead in the eye, and used her raspy voice to spit out two words: "Dream on."

The muscles in Kamryn's forearm tightened around his glass. He clearly had never been rejected by a bottom tier dancer when offering that kind of money.

He closed the distance between them in two strides. He slammed the crystal glass down on the coffee table. The glass shattered, the sharp crack echoing like a gunshot in the room. The temperature plummeted to freezing.

His hand shot out and gripped her throat. He backed her up until her spine hit the wall. He ground his teeth together, warning her not to push her luck. No one in New York said no to Kamryn Lane.

Blaire's face flushed red from the lack of oxygen. She did not break eye contact. She forced the words out through her restricted windpipe. She called him an arrogant bastard and told him he made her sick.