He thought money made him untouchable—that his smirk, his wallet, and his filthy whispers could corner me into silence. “Do you know who pays for everything here?” he sneered, grabbing my wrist. I was shaking… until a cold, furious voice cut through the room: “Take your hands off her. Now.” He froze. I turned—and realized the one man he should’ve feared had finally spoken. But that was only the beginning.
My name is Emily Carter, and the night Daniel Holloway grabbed my wrist, I learned exactly how dangerous a rich man could be when everyone around him mistook money for character. I was twenty-seven, three months into my job as events coordinator at the Ashton Grand Hotel in downtown Chicago. It was the kind of…
