Name Your Price

The dead silence in the VIP room shattered under the weight of her roar. Every patron in the dim suite froze. They stared at the crazed woman with a mix of horror and morbid curiosity. No one dared to breathe, fully expecting the billionaire to snap her neck on the spot.

Vaughn Lockwood did not flinch. His massive hand clamped around her upper arm like a vice. He ripped her away from his crisp dress shirt and dragged her straight out of the private suite.

Cleo thrashed against his iron grip. She kicked her heels against the plush carpet, trying to anchor her weight and stop his momentum. She muttered loud accusations at his broad back, her words slurring from the alcohol.

"You liar! You fed me a fake check! That money was to save a life, you bastard!"

Vaughn marched down the neon-lit corridor, dragging her along. He ignored the shocked stares of passing waitresses and towering bouncers. He scoffed at her public tantrum. The sheer audacity of this woman astounded him. He remembered pulling out his silver pen in that sterile clinic. She had begged for a measly three hundred thousand on the operating table, sobbing about needing it for a life. He had written a real three-million-dollar check, signed it, and tossed it to her. His bank had limitless funds. Her greed knew no bounds if she was here playing the victim, trying to extort him for more cash using liquid courage as a shield.

Roxanne, the club manager, heard the commotion from the main floor. She rushed down the corridor, her stiletto heels clicking against the floorboards. She paled at the sight of the struggling girl in his grasp. She knew a man like Vaughn could end a human life without a second thought.

Roxanne stepped into his path, raising both hands in a placating gesture. "Mr. Lockwood, please wait! I am not sure what happened in there, but Cleo is a brand new recruit. She is young and ignorant. Please forgive her outburst."

Vaughn stopped walking. He fixed the manager with a gaze so cold it froze her in her tracks. "This has nothing to do with you. Get out of my way. I am taking her away right now."

Roxanne swallowed hard, her eyes darting nervously to Cleo. "She is only a promoter, sir. We have many experienced girls here at Oblivion. Allow me to introduce you to a few of them who know exactly how to behave."

Vaughn snapped, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "There is no such thing as only a promoter here. Since she chose to be an employee in this club, she should have been prepared for this day. Bring me her purse."

The demand hung heavy in the stifling air. In Club Oblivion, demanding a girl's purse meant claiming the girl for the night. It was a clear declaration of his intent to take her away.

Her physical strength finally gave out. Cleo dropped to the floor. Her stomach churned from the hard liquor she had forced down minutes earlier. She wrapped her arms around the fabric of Vaughn’s tailored trousers, refusing to be dragged another inch. She glared up at him, strands of disheveled hair sticking to the corners of her mouth.

"You ruined my life! Isn't it enough that you ruined me? I have nothing left because of you!"

Vaughn leaned down. He hooked his fingers under her chin and yanked her face upward. He smiled a hollow, mocking smile. "I will give you plenty of time tonight to tell me exactly how I ruined you. How much money do you want this time? Name your price to sleep with me again and stop pretending to be innocent."

Cleo met his dangerous gaze head-on. She slurred her words with fierce defiance. "If I actually liked you, it would be free of charge! But since I despise you, you can only dream of it."

Vaughn ran out of patience with her drunken rebellion. He grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her off the carpet. He overpowered her with ridiculous ease, shoving her back toward the heavy oak doors of the VIP suite. Cleo kicked and screamed, but she was no match for his brute strength. He tossed her into the dim confines of the private room.

Vaughn swept his dark gaze over the remaining men and women huddled on the velvet sofas. "Out. All of you."

The guests scrambled to their feet, grabbing their coats and glasses in a panic. They fled the suite like frightened animals, not daring to stay a second longer.

Vaughn turned to his towering bodyguard standing in the hall. "Secure the door from the outside. No one gets in."

The bodyguard nodded. The heavy oak door swung shut. The lock clicked with a brutal, definitive thud.

The terrifying reality of her isolation acted as a splash of ice water. The alcohol haze evaporated from Cleo's brain instantly. Visceral memories rushed back to the forefront of her mind. She remembered the blinding surgical lights glaring down at her. She remembered the physical debasement of her legs spread wide on the freezing operating table. She remembered the tearing agony as he took her virginity, the total helplessness of being pinned under his heavy, unrelenting body, the metallic smell of blood and sterile instruments. Suffocating dread expanded in her chest, stealing the oxygen from her lungs.

Vaughn advanced slowly. His tall frame blocked the only exit. He backed her up until the backs of her thighs hit the hard edge of the marble coffee table. He reached out and grabbed her shoulders, using his overwhelming strength to pin her waist against the unyielding stone surface.

There was nowhere to run. Animalistic panic took over. She could not endure another violation. She refused to be a sacrificial lamb on another cold table.

Cleo blindly reached behind her back. Her fingers brushed against a bucket of ice and wrapped around the neck of a heavy glass bottle. She swung it upward with all her remaining might, aiming directly for his skull with the clear intent to smash it.

Vaughn disarmed her with terrifying speed. His large hand clamped over her slender wrist before the glass could even graze his hair. He applied crushing pressure until her trembling fingers popped open. He pried the weapon from her grip and tossed it casually onto the nearby leather sofa.

He did not strike her in retaliation. Instead, his terrifying demeanor shifted abruptly. The ruthless predator melted into a chilling gentleness. He leaned down, his warm breath brushing her terrified face. "Putting up a fight at every turn. You are bold, Ms. Stanton. I will give you that. But just how many lives do you have to spare?"

Cleo pressed her spine against the marble, trying to create distance that simply did not exist.

Vaughn stared down at her trembling lips. "If you are so desperately short of money to pay for a life, why not just come under my wing? Be my kept woman. I was the one who took your virginity anyway."

Cleo turned ashen. Indignation flared hot in her veins, cutting through her sheer terror. She shoved against his solid chest with both hands. "Thank you for the humiliating offer, Mr. Lockwood. But even if I die rotting in poverty, I want nothing to do with you ever again."

Vaughn studied her fiery resistance. He viewed her as a broken plaything, a desperate girl who had sold her body in a clinic, yet she still bared her teeth like a feral cat. He simply smiled a dark smile. He stepped back, releasing his crushing hold on her waist. He adjusted his pristine cuffs, turned his back on her, and casually walked out of the room.

The heavy door clicked shut behind him. The devil vanished into the hallway. Cleo slumped against the marble table, sucking in ragged breaths. Her heart hammered against her ribs, her legs feeling like lead.

Roxanne burst into the room a second later. The manager pointed a shaking finger directly at Cleo's pale face. "Are you out of your mind? You foolishly provoked Vaughn Lockwood! You almost got yourself killed and ruined Oblivion in the process! Do you have any idea who you are dealing with?"

Cleo rubbed her aching wrist. She forced herself to stand upright, ignoring the lingering scent of his expensive cologne. "Who he is has nothing to do with me."

Roxanne scoffed loudly. "Nothing to do with you? You just slapped the grim reaper in the face!"

Cleo dropped her gaze to the floor. "Can I just get my sales commission for tonight, Roxanne? I desperately need to pay the medical bills at the hospital tomorrow morning."

Roxanne stared at her in utter disbelief. She crossed her arms, her expression hardening into a cruel sneer. "I really do not understand you. You are risking your neck and putting up with dangerous billionaire tycoons for a meager commission just to keep a sick man breathing. You are not even married into his family yet! You are running yourself ragged to pay your boyfriend's bills. Let me warn you right now. Men like that will inevitably dump you the second they recover. They use women like you as crutches. Once he is all cured and walking on his own two feet, he will leave you in the dust. What are you going to do when that happens?"

Cleo forced a tired smile. She pushed her messy hair out of her eyes and looked the manager in the face. "That is impossible. We have been together since junior high. A seven-year relationship will not fall apart so easily. Corbin earnestly promised to marry me once he is fully healed and discharged from the hospital. I know he will keep his word."

Her naive defense was shattered mere seconds later. The shrill ring of her phone cut through the tense silence in the room. Cleo pulled it from her pocket. The caller ID flashed Harper’s name. She held up the screen to Roxanne, signaling for a moment of peace, and swiped to answer. "Harper, what is it?"

Harper’s voice blared through the receiver, frantic and loud enough for Roxanne to hear clearly. "Cleo! You are not going to believe what I am seeing right now!"

Cleo frowned. "Calm down. What is wrong? Did something happen at the hospital?"

"I am not at the hospital! I just spotted Corbin at the luxury mall downtown! He is walking around, clear as day!"

Cleo shook her head in confusion. "That cannot be right. You must be seeing things. Corbin is bedridden. He is still hospitalized."

Harper yelled, her disbelief echoing in the quiet VIP room. "For God's sake, Cleo, I have perfect vision! I am telling you it is him! He is wearing his distinct hospital gown right underneath a winter coat! And he is happily buying an expensive Hermes bag for another girl!"