His Vengeful Game: The Bankrupt Heiress

Alaina curled her body into a tight ball in the back seat of the bulletproof Maybach.

Her fist was clenched so tightly around the ten-million-dollar cashier's check that the paper was soaked with her sweat and blood.

Outside the tinted windows, the rain was coming down in sheets. The windshield wipers slashed back and forth violently.

The glass partition separating her from the driver was up. The car sped down the Montauk Highway, heading straight for the eastern end of Long Island.

Two hours later, the massive black iron gates of the Hamptons estate loomed in the darkness.

The gates swung open. The Maybach drove up the long, tree-lined driveway.

This was her home. This was the Gay family's sanctuary. Now, a heavy bronze plaque with the Dyer family crest hung on the stone pillars.

The car stopped in front of the main house.

Mrs. Reynolds, the head housekeeper who had served Alaina's family for twenty years, stood on the porch holding a large black umbrella.

Alaina stepped out of the car. The freezing ocean wind whipped her wet hair across her face. She shivered violently.

Mrs. Reynolds looked at Alaina's muddy, torn lace bodysuit. There was no warmth in the older woman's eyes, only cold judgment.

"Miss Gay," Mrs. Reynolds said, her tone strictly professional. "Mr. Dyer instructed you to go to the master bedroom and wash up."

The words "master bedroom" hit Alaina like a physical punch to the gut. That was her parents' room.

She walked into the grand foyer like a ghost. The walls were bare. All the historic portraits of her ancestors had been stripped away.

She forced her bleeding feet to climb the grand sweeping staircase. Every step felt like she was trampling on her own grave.

She pushed open the heavy double doors of the master bedroom.

A massive king-size bed sat in the center of the room. The bright, floral sheets her mother loved had been replaced with dark, charcoal-black silk.

Alaina walked into the attached marble bathroom. She peeled off the filthy lace bodysuit and stepped into the shower.

She turned the water on as hot as it would go. The scalding water burned her cold skin. She scrubbed her arms and her bleeding knees until her skin was raw and bright red, trying to wash away the filth of the alley and the club.

When she stepped out, she found a single piece of clothing resting on the marble counter.

It was a sheer, translucent black silk robe. There was no underwear.

Alaina's stomach cramped with anxiety. She put the thin robe on, tying the sash tightly around her waist.

She walked out into the bedroom barefoot and stood by the massive window, staring out at the black, churning ocean.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. The brass doorknob clicked.

Hardin walked in. He smelled of rain and expensive cologne. He casually ripped his tie off and threw it onto a velvet chair.

He walked over to the crystal bar cart and poured himself a drink. His dark eyes locked onto Alaina's fragile back, tracing the curve of her spine visible through the wet silk.

Alaina heard the clink of ice. Her shoulders jerked. She turned around slowly, her back pressing against the cold glass of the window.

Hardin walked toward her. His eyes were dark, hungry, and completely unapologetic.

He reached his hand out, aiming for a wet strand of hair plastered to her cheek.

Alaina flinched violently. She turned her head away, her eyes filled with pure, unadulterated terror and disgust.

Hardin's hand stopped in mid-air.

The temperature in the room dropped instantly. His eyes turned to absolute ice.

He lunged forward and grabbed her jaw, his fingers digging into her cheeks.

"What is this?" Hardin hissed, his voice vibrating with rage. "You took the ten million dollars, but you still want to play the untouchable princess?"

Alaina was forced onto her tiptoes. Her voice shook, but her eyes were defiant. "We made a transaction. Just get it over with. Do not touch me like you care."

Hardin's eyes flared with a violent, destructive fire.

He let go of her jaw. He turned and hurled his crystal whiskey glass against the stone fireplace.

The glass shattered into a thousand pieces with a deafening crash.

Before Alaina could scream, Hardin grabbed her by the waist, threw her over his broad shoulder, and marched toward the dark bed.

Alaina beat her fists against his solid back, screaming in terror, but it was like hitting a brick wall.