Trapped By My Ruthless Billionaire Ex

Annette's body went completely rigid. Her muscles locked up.

She instinctively turned her head to the side, letting her wet hair fall forward to hide the angry red scratch Mitch had left on her cheek.

Declan's eyes were like heat-seeking missiles. He caught the flinching movement instantly. His gaze locked onto the side of her face. His dark eyebrows pulled together in a sharp, dangerous frown.

But he didn't ask. He forced his expression back into a mask of pure ice.

He looked down at Clara, who was drooling slightly onto the sticky wooden table.

"Leo is waiting in the car outside," Declan said to Clara. His voice was completely devoid of sympathy. "I was with him discussing the final trust details for the wedding when you called. He insisted I come handle this."

Clara lifted her head. Her mascara was running down her cheeks. "Tell Leo he's a coward! Tell him to take his money and choke on it!"

Declan's jaw tightened. "The prenuptial agreement was drafted by the Carter family trust lawyers. It's standard procedure to protect family assets."

He slowly shifted his eyes back to Annette. His gaze was heavy and suffocating.

"After all," Declan said, his voice dropping an octave, dripping with venom. "There are far too many women in this world who will do absolutely anything for a paycheck."

The words hit Annette like a physical punch to the stomach. Her lungs contracted. She bit down on the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood, using the physical pain to stop herself from crying.

She didn't say a word. She bent down, wrapped Clara's arm around her own neck, and tried to haul the dead weight out of the booth.

Clara stumbled. Her foot caught on the leg of the table.

Both women pitched forward toward the filthy, beer-soaked floor.

Declan moved with terrifying speed. His large hand shot out and clamped around Annette's elbow, stopping her fall instantly.

The heat of his palm burned through the thin, wet fabric of her trench coat. It felt like a branding iron against her skin.

Annette reacted like she had been burned. She violently yanked her arm out of his grip, stumbling backward.

Declan's hand hung in the air for a second. His eyes darkened into a terrifying, stormy black. The rejection infuriated him.

He stepped past Annette, completely ignoring her. He bent down, scooped Clara up, and threw her over his broad shoulder like a sack of flour.

He turned and started walking toward the exit.

Annette had no choice but to follow him through the packed, sweaty crowd.

As they neared the door, Annette accidentally bumped her shoulder into a massive man wearing a leather biker vest.

The biker spilled his beer down his shirt. He spun around, his face red with rage.

"Watch it, bitch!" the biker yelled. He reached out his thick, greasy hand to grab the collar of Annette's coat.

Declan stopped dead in his tracks.

He didn't even drop Clara. He just turned around, his left hand shooting out with lethal precision. He grabbed the biker's thick wrist.

Declan twisted. The biker's face contorted in a silent scream as his wrist bent at an unnatural angle. He dropped to his knees, the sound of his agony completely swallowed by the wall of music.

Declan stood over him. He looked at the screaming man with the cold, dead eyes of a sociopath.

"Move," Declan commanded softly.

The crowd of bikers instantly parted, terrified by the sheer, violent aura radiating from the man in the suit.

They walked out into the freezing rain.

A black Maybach was idling at the curb. Leo jumped out, looking frantic.

Declan dumped Clara into the back seat without a word. He turned to Leo. "Handle your own mess next time, Leo."

Leo nodded profusely, shooting Annette an apologetic look before jumping into the car and speeding off into the night.

Annette stood alone on the wet sidewalk with Declan. The rain soaked through her clothes, making her shiver violently.

She pulled her coat tighter around her body. "Thank you," she whispered to the pavement.

She turned to walk toward the subway station.

"Did your new sugar daddy do that to your face?" Declan's voice cracked like a whip through the rain.

Annette froze.

The humiliation and the exhaustion finally boiled over into pure, blinding rage. She spun around.

She looked him dead in the eye.

"Yes," Annette lied, her voice shaking with anger. "And even getting hit by him is better than spending another second pretending I ever loved you."

Declan's face went completely blank.

Then, he snapped.

He lunged forward, grabbed her wrist in a crushing grip, and dragged her toward a black Bentley parked in the shadows of the alley.