Juliette’s muscles stiffened.

“Problem?” he challenged.

Her gaze darted to the six men sitting almost motionless across the room.

“Don’t worry about them,” Arlo said casually. “They don’t mind watching.” He paused to slide a tongue over his teeth. “And if you’re good, I might not even share you.”

Crippling panic slammed into her. It rolled down the length of her spine in a serrated wheel of ice. The packet of money slipped from her numb fingers and struck the side of her foot. Bills spilled free from the top. They lay forgotten as she struggled not to join them in a crumpled heap on the ground.

Arlo watched her, dark eyes hooded with a sick sort of pleasure. She knew fear was the thing that gave him his power, but she couldn’t stave hers back. It rushed over her, hot and formidable, threatening to drown her. Around the room, silence continued to crackle. But it was the type of silence no one ever wanted to hear.

“Juliette,” Arlo purred in that mocking drawl of his. His boots scoffed across concrete as he swaggered forward. “You’re making this very hard on yourself.”

Heart beating louder than his words, Juliette willed herself not to turn and bolt. She knew that would only make things worse. She knew running would only fuel the whole pack into chasing her. So she stood perfectly still. He stopped before her, smelling of beer and cheap cigarettes. There was a stain—tomato sauce—just on his stubbled chin. Juliette focused on that rather than the predatory glint in his eyes.

“Undress or I will undress you.”

He emphasized his promise with a sharp click of a switchblade being snapped open. She hadn’t even seen him remove it from his pocket, yet it sat in his hand, glinting menacingly for all it was worth.

Her fingers trembled as she lowered her purse. The bag hit the ground with an almost resounding thump that was nowhere near as loud as it sounded in her head. The sound made her jump despite having expected it. Ignoring it, she reached numbly for the buttons holding her blouse together. The fastens slipped with too much ease through the holes. The V parted inch by painful inch to expose the camisole and the full curves of her breasts. They rose and fell rapidly with her every ragged breath. The sight of them seemed to drag Arlo to her. It took all her strength and courage not to be sick when his heat crawled over her, thick and speckled with his foul stench. Her skin prickled in reaction. Her stomach recoiled. She would have flinched back, but her shoes had fused themselves into the grimy floor. All she could manage to do was avert her face when his pushed all the closer.

“Faster, Juliette,” he urged, his voice breathless with anticipation. “I’m not a patient man and I have been waiting a long time for this.”

A choked sound escaped. Her mortification was swallowed by the crippling reality of what was about to happen. She was under no illusion that Arlo would be gentle. He wouldn’t care that she had never been with a man. No doubt he would relish the fact. She just prayed to God he didn’t do it right there in front of his men or worse, let them have her, too.

A sob worked up into her throat, suffocating what little oxygen she’d managed to hang on to. It formed a tight ball in her windpipe, choking her until she was certain she’d blackout. Part of her hoped she did. Then she wouldn’t be present for whatever he did to her.

His fingers, rough and almost scaly, brushed against the contour of her cheek, smearing the tear that had slipped past her defenses. The salty tang was smudged across the quivering curve of her bottom lip, bringing with it the taste of pizza and sweat leftover on his skin. The sensation kicked at her stomach, harassing the frothing bile.

“Pretty little Juliette.” His fingers curled into her jaw, cutting and biting as her face was wrenched towards his. “Always looking down your nose at me, thinking you were too good to lower yourself to my level and yet…” His grip tightened. His grin broadened. “Here you are, giving me the thing you swore you never would. How mortifying for you this must be.”

Juliette said nothing. She could think of nothing to say. Part of her was afraid she might spit on him, or vomit if she even considered opening her mouth.

The hand fell away to close around her upper arm instead. The unevenly cut nails tore at flesh as she was hauled forward. The envelope of money went skidding under her feet, littering bills in all direction. No one seemed to notice. Everyone was too busy watching as Arlo shoved her against the table. The thing must have been bolted into the concrete, because it didn’t so much as budge with the impact. But Juliette knew her hip would hold evidence of the assault come morning.

That was all the time she was given to think about it though. The next moment, Arlo had her wrenched down onto her back. His hands grabbed her wrists when her survival instincts kicked in almost automatically and she began flailing. Her arms were slammed down against the wood just above her head with enough force to steal her breath away with the pain. Her thighs were forced apart by lean hips.

“Don’t fight me, Juliette,” he panted, washing her face with his sour breath. “You came to me, remember? You asked for this.”

By this he meant the hand he forced between their bodies. The fingers tore at fabric until it found skin. Above her, his grunt was met by her weak sob. He didn’t seem to mind when she squeezed her eyes shut tight and twisted her face away. He had found what he’d been searching for. Blunt fingers brutally prodded against her dry opening, jabbing and pinching despite the resistance of her body. Against her thigh, his erection seemed to swell the harder she tried to buck him off. It burned through the rough grain of his jeans to singe her with every grind of his hips.

“Please…” she choked out, desperately trying to wrench away. “Please stop…”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He ran the flat length of his tongue across her jawline. “I don’t mind having your sister instead. Didn’t think so,” he mocked when she clamped her teeth down on her lip. “So be a good girl and let me in.”

Despite every voice in her head screaming for her not to do it, she let her body go limp. She shut her eyes and prayed to God it ended quickly.

“Boss? We got company.”

The phantom voice shattered through the sound of labored breathing, of buttons and zippers being undone. It cracked through Juliette’s sanity, nearly destroying her as relief speared through her.

Arlo drew away and she wasted no time rolling off the table. Her knees deserted her and she hit the ground hard enough to peel the skin on her knees and palms. The room swam behind a thick film of tears that threatened to fall no matter how hard she tried to battle them back. Her entire body shuddered with a violence that made her feel half crazy, like the only thing keeping her sane was the shock.

Above her, Arlo cursed and reached for the walkie-talkie set somewhere on the table.

“Who is it?” he snapped into the device. “Tell them I’m busy.”

“Is that right?”

The voice was deep with a rolling accent that vibrated through the silence as easily as a whip. It was followed by the steady clip of approaching footsteps. A moment later, the entranceway was filled by no less than eight men in sleek, expensive suits in varying shades of gray and black. One man stood at the helm, tall, dark, and breathtaking in a way Juliette couldn’t help noticing despite the circumstances. He was the type of man who belonged on the cover of GQ. The kind that romance novels were written about and women longed for. He radiated power, the kind that dominated the space and crackled like the approach of a terrible thunderstorm. Juliette could feel the snap of his presence even from a distance. She could feel the rise of the hairs along her arms. The sharp scrape of it along her skin. It rippled through her veins to pool somewhere deep inside her like a harsh combination of alcohol and fear. Whoever this man was, he was dangerous and he was pissed.