RUTHLESS DEVOTION: THE EMPIRE BETWEEN US

TIGER'S DEN

The heavy gold doors of the grand ballroom didn't just open; they seemed to part for him.

The moment Lowin Vance stepped inside, the room's collective pulse stuttered. A suffocating silence rippled through the crowd of elite guests, every conversation dying on the tongues of billionaires and high-profile icons. He stood at the threshold, a striking figure of absolute, lethal authority. His sharp gray eyes slowly scanned the sea of faces, utterly unmoved by the sudden hush.

He despised these gatherings. Every smile was a calculated lie, every handshake a transaction, and the sheer fakeness of it always stirred a dark, simmering irritation deep in his chest. If Victoria hadn't begged him, he would be in his private study right now, running his empire.

With heavy, deliberate strides that commanded the room without trying, Lowin walked toward an isolated table in the VIP section. A waitress appeared almost instantly, her hands trembling slightly as she set down a crystal glass of deep red wine.

Around the perimeter, the murmurs began. Actresses and heiresses huddled together, their eyes glued to his silhouette, whispering shamelessly.

"He is a god. Why is he still single?" "He's terrifying, but I'd give anything to spend a single night with him."

Lowin ignored them all, staring coldly into his glass.

Then, Victoria entered. She glided across the marble floor, her posture radiating pride as she made her way directly to his table. Sitting down beside him, she cast a possessive glance at the whispering women, relishing the visible waves of jealousy washing over the room.

"What took you so long?" Victoria asked, her voice hushed but demanding.

Lowin didn't look at her, his voice a flat, unreadable rumble. "I didn't notice it took me long."

A flicker of anger crossed Victoria's face as his words cut through her. Her mind flashed back to the corridor to the memory of Lowin looking down at that fragile woman in the white dress. She swallowed the bitterness, forcing her supermodel mask back into place.

Before she could speak, a group of prominent CEOs approached the table, eager to capitalize on the rare public appearance of the Vance Empire's head. One of them cleared his throat, offering a practiced smile. "Mr. Vance, I was hoping we could discuss the logistics of the new shipping contract-"

"No."

The single word fell like an iron curtain. Lowin didn't even look up from his drink. The brutal finality in his tone sent a shockwave through the men, and they scrambled away like frightened mice, not daring to press further.

Lowin clicked his tongue, lazily swirling the dark liquid in his glass. Suddenly, the phone in his breast pocket buzzed against his chest.

He pulled it out, his eyes narrowing at the screen. "Excuse me. I have to take this."

Victoria tightened her grip on her clutch, nodding smoothly. "Sure, go ahead. I need to use the restroom anyway."

Lowin gave her a brief nod and stepped away into the private executive lounge.

The moment the table was empty, a shadow broke away from the crowd. A figure slipped through the dim lighting, approaching Lowin's untouched glass with practiced ease. With a swift, imperceptible movement, a small capsule was dropped into the red wine. It dissolved instantly, leaving the liquid perfectly still.

The figure vanished back into the masses, pulling out a burner phone.

[Unknown]: It's done.

A response popped up a second later.

[Unknown]: Good. I'll handle the rest.

When Lowin returned minutes later, the air around him had grown even colder. Whatever call he had just taken had left him visibly furious, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack. Needing to dull the irritation burning in his veins, he sat down, grabbed his glass, and gulped down the wine in one long swallow.

Setting the empty glass down, his eyes began to sweep the room, looking for Victoria. Instead, his gaze caught on a completely different target.

It was her. The woman from the corridor.

She was sitting quietly at a corner table, looking small and intensely beautiful against the sprawling opulence of the room. Lowin watched as a handsome young heir approached her, offering his hand for a dance. She turned him down with a polite, soft shake of her head. Moments later, a famous actor tried his luck. She rejected him too, her expression entirely detached.

Interesting, Lowin thought, a low murmur vibrating in his chest.

He was used to women clawing over each other to get the attention of men like that, desperate for a sliver of public status. But this girl wasn't looking for a spotlight. He could tell she was a runner. And for the first time in his life, Lowin felt the primal urge to chase.

His eyes narrowed as another figure approached her table. He recognized the woman instantly. It was his sister, Annah Vance. He couldn't hear their voices over the roar of the crowd, but seeing his notoriously difficult sister throwing her head back in genuine laughter caught him completely out of height.

---

At Amilah's table, the atmosphere was entirely different.

"You know, it has to be illegal for a woman this beautiful to hide in a dark corner all night. Mind if I sit? "Annah smiled down at her, gesturing toward the empty chair.

Amilah blinked, surprised by the warmth radiating from the stranger. "Oh, please, go ahead."

"I'm Annah," she said, sliding into the seat and resting her chin on her hand. "And yes, I've been watching you for the last twenty minutes. These high-society gatherings can be absolutely exhausting, can't they?"

Amilah let out a breath she felt like she'd been holding since she arrived. "Tell me about it. I feel like I'm underwater."

Annah's eyes traveled down the perfect tailoring of Amilah's gown, her eyes shining with genuine envy.

"I am absolutely obsessed with your dress. I need one in my closet immediately. Would you mind sharing your designer's name? I'll pay whatever they ask."

A soft, genuine smile broke across Amilah's face. "Thank you. I actually designed and made it myself."

Annah's jaw dropped. "Are you serious? Tell me you take private clients. I'm an actress and I do some modeling on the side. Next week I have a major editorial shoot, and this exact aesthetic aligns perfectly with the theme."

Amilah's heart leaped. A shoot? an actress wearing her design? This was exactly the break she had been praying for. "Really? If you want it, I can work day and night to ensure it's completely tailored and delivered before your week starts."

"Oh, you are an absolute angel," Annah gasped, pulling a sleek, embossed business card from her bag and sliding it across the table. "Here is my personal card. Call me the second it's ready."

"Thank you so much," Amilah whispered, clutching the card like a lifeline. "I will."

Before Annah could reply, Amilah's phone began to vibrate in her clutch. Seeing the caller ID, she offered an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry, I have to take this. It's my mom."

"Go ahead, sweetie. I'll find you later," Annah waved her off with a warm smile.

---

Back at the VIP table, the temperature in Lowin's body was skyrocketing.

A sudden, aggressive wave of heat crashed over him, making his skin feel entirely too tight. He gritted his teeth, pulling off his tailored suit jacket and throwing it over the chair, but the relief never came. A second wave hit him, harder this time, a thick, heavy pulse settling deep in his lower abdomen.

His phone buzzed on the table.

[Victoria]: I'm waiting for you in the VIP suite upstairs. Join me when you're done.

Lowin stared at the screen, his breathing turning ragged. As he forced himself to stand, a third wave of heat ripped through his system, dragging his senses into a dark, hazy fog.

He hurriedly walked out ,without anyone noticing and slipped into the dimly lit corridor. The increased uncontrollable heat in his lower abdomen instantly made him realize what was going on. He was drugged. He cursed under his breathe f**k.

The realization hit him with the force of a freight train. He clenched his jaw so hard, his fist flying out to punch the concrete wall beside the exit corridor. The pain barely registered through the haze.

Going to the suite was a trap. It would create a massive public scandal, and he was not going to let whoever did this see him weak, let alone force him into a public narrative with Victoria. He had to get out of the hotel. Now.

Using the last remaining threads of his iron discipline, he stumbled into the quiet, dimly lit VIP corridor, his vision blurring at the edges.

A few feet away, Amilah was leaning against the wall, her phone held up in a FaceTime call.

"Mom, the gala is going so well," Amilah said, her voice giddy with excitement. "I literally just landed a major client for my collection. I'm going to fly out to see you tomorrow, but I have to get back as soon as possible to start working."

"That's incredible, sweetheart! I'm so proud of you," her mother's voice echoed softly from the speaker. "What time is your flight tomorrow?"

"Ten in the morning. I'll call you before I board-"

A low, painful groan echoed from behind her, shattering the quiet of the hallway.

Amilah flinched, pulling the phone back. She turned around, her breath catching in her throat.

It was him. The man from earlier. But the quiet authority he had radiated was gone, replaced by something wild and dangerous. He looked incredibly sick, his skin flushed and slick with sweat, and his right fist was dripping blood onto the pristine floor.

"Mom, I have to call you right back," Amilah whispered frantically, hanging up before her mother could answer. She rushed to his side, her instincts taking over. "Sir? Sir, are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?"

Lowin forced his heavy eyelids open, his dark eyes instantly locking onto her face. Even through the drug-induced fog, her features were terrifyingly clear.

"It's fine," he growled, his voice a gravelly, broken shell of its former self. "I'm fine. Just leave."

"You don't look fine," Amilah pressed, stepping closer. "You can barely stand. Let me help you."

Without waiting for his permission, she wrapped her small hands around his waist, trying to brace his weight. The moment her skin made contact, Lowin shoved her away with a sudden burst of panicked force.

"Please... leave," he ground out through shattered teeth. "I can take care of myself."

"It doesn't look that way to me," Amilah said, her stubbornness flaring as she stepped right back into his space. "You're clearly not well, and you're burning up."

Lowin leaned his head against the wall, his chest heaving as the toxin demanded his surrender. "Stop being f*****g stubborn and walk away."

"Well, sir, my conscience won't let me leave you in a hallway, so I'm not going anywhere."

Amilah stepped in close again, determined, and firmly wrapped her hands back around his waist.

The moment she pressed against him, her soft, sweet scent hit his nostrils. It was like pouring gasoline on an open flame. The fever tearing through his blood surged to the absolute edge, threatening to break his control completely. He bit his inner cheek until the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, using the physical pain to fight the feral thoughts screaming in his head.

"The underground parking lot," Lowin commanded, his voice dark and strained. "My driver... is there."

Amilah nodded quickly, guiding his heavy frame toward the private elevator.

The ride down felt like an eternity. Inside the enclosed metal box, the silence was suffocating. Amilah was pressed right against his side, her warmth seeping into him, and Lowin's primal instincts were screaming at him to pin her against the elevator wall and devour her. He fought his own mind with everything he had. But when the lift gave a sudden, sharp shudder, Amilah instinctively gasped and shifted against his side, sending a jolt of pure adrenaline straight to his core.

The doors finally slid open. Lowin stumbled out onto the concrete of the underground garage, Amilah rushing to support his weight.

His sharp gray eyes scanned the dimly lit parking lot, but the black Maybach was nowhere to be seen. His driver wasn't there.

"You need a doctor," Amilah insisted, pulling out her phone. Before he could stop her, her processing lines flew across the screen, requesting a private cab to their location.

"I'll call my driver," Lowin growled. He pulled out his phone with a shaking hand, dialing the direct line. It rang continuously until it went to voicemail. He cursed under his breath, a dark, lethal sound. something was definitely not right, this had to be a scheme and he was going to find out who the players were.

He was trapped in an empty garage, the poison in his blood was reaching a boiling point, and the paparazzi could find the entrance at any moment.

He looked down at the girl beside him. "You can go back inside now. I'll take it from here."

"Sir, I already told you, I'm not leaving you until I get you to a hospital," Amilah said, her eyes wide with stubborn determination.

A cold, dangerous anger flared in Lowin's chest. Why wouldn't this girl just run? Didn't she realize what she was standing next to?

He took a sudden, predatory step toward her. Startled by the sheer menace in his eyes, Amilah instinctively backed up, her heels clicking against the concrete until her spine collided with a massive concrete pillar.

Lowin closed the distance in a heartbeat, trapping her. His bloody fist flew out, slamming into the concrete just inches from her head with a terrifying crack.

"I told you," he whispered, his face hovering just inches from hers, his breath hot against her skin, "to leave."

The space between them vanished. Amilah could smell the expensive, smoky scent of his cologne mixed with the raw heat of his skin. He was sweating profusely, his chest rising and falling violently. Looking at his strained collar, Amilah's hand moved on pure, unthinking instinct, her fingers reaching up to gently undo the other few buttons of his shirt to give him air.

At the touch of her soft fingers against his bare skin, Lowin felt the last of his iron restraint dissolve. His eyes went entirely pitch-black with a dark, consuming desire. Her soft, pink lips were parted, completely inviting, and his own hand rose against his will, his thumb gently tracing the contour of her bottom lip.

Amilah's heart was hammering so wildly she felt dizzy. It was a sensation she had never experienced in her life, a terrifying, intoxicating pull that made her knees weak.

"S-Sir..." she whispered, her voice trembling violently as she pressed a hand over her own chest, trying to quiet her heart. "Is your illness contagious? Because... I think I'm coming down with it."

Lowin let out a low, rough chuckle, the sound dark and intimate. "So innocent," he murmured.

Thankfully, the headlights of the cab cut through the garage, pulling up beside them. Lowin pulled back, the sudden loss of her touch making him groan. Amilah quickly helped him into the backseat, sliding in right after him and closing the door.

"Sir, please take us to the nearest hospital," Amilah told the driver immediately.

Before the driver could shift gears, Lowin's hand shot out, his fingers clamping around Amilah's wrist with unyielding force. "No. Take me to my penthouse."

"You need a medical professional-"

Lowin's grip tightened just enough to make her gasp, his dark eyes locking onto hers with absolute authority. Amilah hissed, her skin burning under his touch.

"Okay, okay," she relented, turning back to the driver. "What's the address?"

"Apex Heights Estate," Lowin ground out, leaning his head back against the seat.

The cab rolled out of the parking lot and into the night. For Lowin, the drive was pure torture. Every bump in the road made his blood burn hotter. He needed a cold shower, but the woman sitting mere inches away was making everything infinitely worse. The high slit of her gown had ridden up, exposing her pale, flawless thigh in the dim light of the cab. He let out a low groan, curling his hands into tight fists to keep from reaching out and tearing the silk away.

"Sir, I really think a hospital is the better option right now," Amilah whispered, looking at him with genuine worry.

Lowin turned his head, a fierce, predatory glare cutting through the darkness of the car. Amilah quickly clamped her mouth shut, looking away.

Minutes later, the cab pulled up to the heavy security gates of the exclusive estate. Since commercial cabs weren't permitted past the perimeter, Lowin had to roll down the window, his voice harsh and strained as he commanded the guard to open the gates. The car drove down the private, tree-lined avenue for another five minutes before finally stopping in front of a massive, ultra-modern penthouse structure.

Amilah helped him out of the backseat, paying the driver before the cab sped away, leaving them in the quiet dark.

Lowin leaned heavily against her, his breathing ragged. "How are you going to get back?"

"I'll just request another one once you're inside," Amilah said, her voice shaking slightly from the exertion.

"Okay. Thank you," he muttered, trying to steady himself on his own feet. "Leave now."

"No. I have to make sure you're safely on a couch first."

Lowin had never met a woman this incredibly stubborn in his entire life. Left with no choice, he let her guide him through the grand entrance and into the sprawling, minimalist penthouse, sinking heavily into the deep leather couch.

Amilah didn't waste a second. "Where is your kitchen?"

Lowin lazily pointed a finger toward the dark marble island in the distance. Amilah ran into the room, returning moments later with a glass basin filled with ice-cold water and a small towel she had found on the counter.

She knelt on the floor directly between his knees. Soaking the towel in the freezing water, she wrung it out and lifted her hands to press it against his burning forehead but her wrists were caught mid-air.

Lowin's grip was like iron, his dark eyes boring into hers. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Wiping off your sweat," Amilah said softly, trying to pull her hands free but failing. "The cold water will help bring down your temperature. You're burning up."

Lowin stared at her, his gaze traveling from her wide, innocent eyes down to her soft lips. "That won't help." He paused, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low register. "But... maybe you can."

Amilah frowned, her innocence blinding her to the meaning behind his words. "But sir, I'm already helping you. And since you refuse to see a doctor, this is the only way."

Lowin felt a dark amusement stir within his chest, deeply intrigued by how completely unaware she was of the danger she was in. "I was drugged, little bird," he whispered, leaning his upper body forward until his face was inches from hers. "And I don't think cold water is going to cool down what's happening to me."

Amilah processed the words slowly. Her gaze involuntarily drifted down, and her eyes flew wide open as she noticed the heavy, undeniable bulge straining against the fabric of his suit trousers.

A gasp caught in her throat. The realization hit her all at once: she hadn't just helped a sick man. She had willingly walked straight into the tiger's den.

Instinctively, Amilah let go of the towel and tried to crawl backward on the floor, desperate to put distance between them.

But Lowin was already moving. He stood up slowly, his towering frame casting a massive shadow over her as he followed her movements.

"I told you to leave," Lowin murmured, his voice laced with a dark, possessive promise. He looked down into her eyes, watching the sudden, beautiful flash of fear take over her expression. "But you chose to stay. So tell me, little bird..."

Amilah's back hit the base of the kitchen island behind her, trapping her entirely. She couldn't find her words, her throat completely dry.

Suddenly, Lowin leaned down, his large hands clamping around her waist. With effortless strength, he lifted her off the floor, pinning her hips against the high marble counter.

Amilah gasped, her hands flying to his broad shoulders to push him away, but he didn't budge an inch. He was a wall of pure muscle and consuming heat. Lowin raised his hand, his long fingers slowly trailing over her trembling lower lip as he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear.

"Your stubbornness little bird....," he whispered, his dark breath sending a shiver straight down her spine, "has landed you in an awful lot of trouble tonight."