The Predator's Trap

Ignoring the daggers Declan practically shot into the side of her head, Sloane maintained her serene smile. She smoothly pivoted the high-stakes negotiation, her voice cutting through the thick tension settling over the dining table.

"It seems we can't eat this fish after all," she said, her tone light but carrying a sharp edge. "No matter. We'll have the restaurant prepare a new one. Though I've heard the fish caught today are quite large. I'm afraid this plate won't be big enough, and they likely don't have larger platters in the back."

The metaphor landed like a gavel striking a wooden block. Her sharp implication rang loud and clear across the room. While the Sterling Group might not be Gideon's ideal choice, the Stratton Group’s massive infrastructural requirements were far too complex and large-scale for any other corporation to handle. No other company had the bandwidth or the capital to digest the entire project. This was the exact reason they had come to the Sterling Group in the first place.

Sloane held Gideon’s stare, her message glaring and unapologetic. She had done her homework on his company. They were his only viable option, and he had zero leverage to exploit the situation for better terms.

Beside her, Declan’s rigid posture relaxed. The dark storm in his eyes cleared as he realized she knew exactly what she was doing.

Gideon’s smug demeanor vanished. The realization that he had been expertly cornered by his own greed wiped the arrogant grin off his face. The muscle in his jaw ticked. He ground his teeth together, forcing the words out of his mouth. "Looks like you've done your homework well."

Sloane offered a polite smile and raised her glass in his direction. "Mr. Caldwell, you flatter me. Cheers."

With his leverage destroyed, Gideon had no more room to argue. The rest of the meeting proceeded without further complications, and the lucrative contract was successfully signed right then and there.

But this magnificent corporate victory came at a terrifying, severe physical cost. Beneath the mahogany table, Sloane’s hands shook with an uncontrollable tremor. Her stomach burned. It felt as if she had swallowed live coals, the sheer agony radiating through her abdomen and draining every drop of color from her face. Her peripheral vision continued to blur into dark, swimming shadows. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, sticking her damp hair to her skin. Underneath her tailored blazer, her silk blouse clung to her back, soaked through with sweat.

A thick, metallic sweetness persistently rose in the back of her throat. She was deteriorating rapidly, her organs practically shutting down. She knew another drink would send her straight to the emergency room.

Yet, sensing her weakened state, Gideon ruthless kept tipping the liquor bottle over her glass. He poured shot after shot. His dark intentions were glaring to everyone in the room. Since he couldn't win the financial negotiation and humiliate the Sterling Group, he planned to make Sloane pay with her body. He watched her pale lips and trembling fingers with a predator's raw hunger.

Sitting safely across the table, Gianna saw through the entire setup. She caught the agonizing expression desperately hidden behind Sloane’s polite mask. A cold smile curved Gianna's lips, a malicious glint sparking in her eyes. She wanted to see how the great Sloane Mercer would escape this nightmare without Declan's protection.

Turning to Declan, Gianna’s demeanor shifted in a heartbeat. Her tone turned into pure, sickeningly sweet coquettish charm. "Declan, I'm tired. The alcohol smell in here is making me nauseous. Could you take me home first?"

Declan hesitated. His gaze flickered toward Sloane, sensing the mounting tension in the room. He did a quick mental calculation. Sloane would probably need another twenty minutes to wrap up the pleasantries and leave. That was just enough time for him to drop Gianna off at her apartment.

Gideon seized the perfect opportunity to isolate his prey. He leaned forward, gesturing toward the door. "Mr. Sterling, go ahead and take your assistant home. Ms. Mercer can stay and have a few more drinks with me."

Blinded by his desire to appease Gianna's minor discomfort, Declan nodded coolly. He stood up, grabbed his suit jacket, and looked down at his wife. "I'm leaving this to you. I'll take her home first."

He didn't wait for Sloane to agree or object. Without a single backward glance, he walked out of the room. Gianna clung to his arm, leaning her weight against him. As they crossed the threshold, Gianna peeked over her shoulder. She shot Sloane a triumphant, taunting glare that practically screamed her desire to watch Sloane burn.

The heavy wooden door clicked closed. The latch sealed her inside, and Sloane’s blood turned to ice.

Damn it. Damn Declan!

For the sake of Gianna’s fake nausea, he had willingly and deliberately left his own wife isolated with a known sexual predator. He truly didn't care if she got torn apart, as long as his precious assistant didn't have to smell cheap liquor.

If that was the case, what did she have left to fear?

She clamped her mouth shut. The metallic sweetness rushed up her throat again. She swallowed hard, forcing the warm blood back down her esophagus. Her failing body had reached its absolute limit, her strength draining away like water through a sieve. She knew with absolute certainty that she had to save herself.

Now alone in the soundproof room, Gideon dropped the act. He no longer bothered to hide his leering, animalistic gaze. He stood up from his chair, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of his suit jacket. He tossed the fabric aside and licked his teeth.

"Mr. Sterling seems young, but he knows the game," Gideon sneered, taking a slow step toward her. "He saw I was interested in you, so he's basically offering you to me."

Sloane gripped her purse. Her fingernails bit so hard into her palms they drew tiny half-moons in her skin. She forced a chilling, composed smile onto her face while her eyes darted around the room, hunting for an escape route.

"Yes, Mr. Sterling left," Sloane said, her voice terrifyingly steady. "But Mrs. Caldwell is still here."

Gideon paused, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"

Her smile widened, bright and sharp. "Don't you and your wife talk to each other? Didn't you know she arranged to meet her close friends on this exact floor for dinner tonight? I checked for you. Mrs. Caldwell is in Room D. Shouldn't you go say hello?"

She had strategically chosen the Mirage Club for this very reason. Gideon had married into money. He spent his entire life cowering under his domineering, wealthy wife's supervision. Sloane knew his wife would be here, setting up an ironclad escape route against his notorious advances.

But tonight, fueled by expensive liquor and a bruised ego from the negotiation, Gideon refused to cower in his wife's shadow. His face flushed a dark, angry red. He glared at her, his eyes shining with malice.

"Even if that old woman is here today, I'm still going to have you!" he roared.

He lunged across the chairs, his large hands reaching for her.

Sloane dodged his grasp. She stared past his shoulder and screamed toward the closed door, "Mrs. Caldwell!"

Conditioned by decades of living under his wife's thumb, Gideon flinched. He instinctively snapped his head toward the phantom threat at the door.

In that split second, Sloane moved. She channeled every ounce of her remaining, failing strength and sprinted for the exit. She yanked the heavy door open and threw herself out.

Behind her, Gideon realized he had been played. A string of vicious curses erupted from the room as he scrambled after her.

Sloane burst through the doors, but her heart plummeted into her stomach.

To her absolute misfortune, the long, carpeted hallway was bare and empty. Not a single waiter, security guard, or patron was in sight. The silence of the corridor pressed in on her. She prayed to encounter any staff member who could intervene, but there was no one.

Her scorched body betrayed her. The fire destroying her stomach flared up, sending a paralyzing shockwave through her nerves. Her legs buckled beneath her weight. She stumbled, gasping for air as the world tilted on its axis.

Before she could regain her footing, heavy footsteps pounded against the carpet. Gideon caught up to her in mere seconds.

His large hand clamped around her slender wrist like a steel vice. The grip sent a sharp jolt of pain up her arm. He yanked her backward, his hot, foul breath hitting her neck.

"Bitch, let's see how you escape this time," he sneered wetly against her ear. He licked his lips, his predatory gaze roaming over her disheveled form.

Sloane twisted, her heels scraping against the thick carpet. She thrust her free hand out, desperately gripping the sharp edge of a decorative wooden windowsill jutting out from the hallway wall. Her knuckles turned white from the strain.

Gideon yanked her arm again, dragging her back toward the private room.

Sloane gritted her teeth, holding on to the sill. But the agonizing fire in her stomach drained her final physical reserves. The blood pooled in her mouth again, choking her. She had no strength left to fight him off. Her muscles gave out, trembling under the immense pressure.

A deep, suffocating despair washed over her. She watched in horror as her white-knuckled fingers gradually, inevitably slipped from the wooden sill. The smooth wood slid out of her grasp, and Gideon, grinning maliciously, dragged her back into the shadows.