He Bet on My Heart, But My Stepbrother Fell First

POV: Ivy The heat was already melting my bones when Jason finally answered the phone. I didn't hear regret in my boyfriend's voice. I didn't hear panic. Instead, through the tinny speaker of my cell phone, I heard the unmistakable, breathless moans of his receptionist. He hadn't brought me to this underground club to sign a loan guarantor form. He had sold me to a debt collector to clear his tab, and the glass of champagne he had handed me five minutes ago was laced with a high-grade aphrodisiac. "Jason, they locked me in the VIP bathroom," I choked out, sliding down the cold marble door. A heavy, unnatural fire was crawling through my veins, pooling low in my stomach. "Please, they're trying to break it down." "Stop being so dramatic, Ivy," Jason’s voice crackled through the speaker, dripping with utter boredom. "Mickey said he’d wipe the hundred grand if I left you there for the night as collateral. Consider it a sacrifice for our future." Before the sheer magnitude of his betrayal could fully register, another sound drifted through the receiver. "Is she crying, babe?" It was Chloe. The twenty-one-year-old receptionist he had repeatedly told me was "just like a little sister." She giggled right into the microphone, her voice thick with mocking pity. "Honestly, Ivy, you're so boring anyway. A little clubbing and a free drink is exactly what you need to loosen up." Then came the sounds. A sharp, breathless gasp from Chloe, followed by a heavy, satisfied groan from Jason. Slap. Slap. The sickening, rhythmic, wet sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the speaker. "God, Jason... yes, right there..." Chloe panted, her voice raw with unrestrained pleasure. They weren't just leaving me to be violated by loan sharks; they were in bed together, getting off on my destruction. The man I had cooked dinners for, the man whose rent I had helped pay for the last three years, had walked me into a slaughterhouse without blinking. My hand trembled so violently that the phone slipped from my sweaty grasp, clattering onto the marble tile. I stumbled backward in sheer, paralyzing horror, my shoulders hitting the glass wall of the luxury walk-in shower. In my frantic scramble to get away from the sickening sounds still coming from the floor, my elbow violently struck the heavy chrome shower lever. A blast of freezing water shot from the rain head above. I gasped as the icy spray drenched me instantly. My thin, white silk blouse plastered to my skin in seconds, turning completely translucent. The dark lace of my b*a and the rigid peaks of my chest were starkly exposed, clinging to my shivering frame. The freezing water was a brutal, shocking contrast to the unnatural, agonizing fire pooling low in my stomach, making the d**g in my veins burn even more fiercely. Bang! The heavy wood of the bathroom door frame splintered above my head. "Open up, sweetie! We can help you!" Mickey’s gravelly voice barked from the hallway. With a scream of pure, visceral rage, I kicked my heavy phone across the marble, smashing it into the wall and instantly cutting off the sickening sounds of Jason and Chloe. I didn't wait for Mickey's men to break the deadbolt. I scrambled to my bare feet and threw my dripping wet body against the discreet staff exit at the back of the bathroom. I tumbled into the dim service corridor, the heavy metal door clicking shut behind me. I ran. The air in the service hallway was cool, biting into my soaked clothes, but it did absolutely nothing to quench the fire consuming me from the inside out. My mind was breaking down into primal, desperate fragments. I shoved open a heavy fire door and burst out of the service corridor, stumbling blindly back into the opulent, thickly carpeted halls of the club's VIP upper level. The sudden brightness of the crystal chandeliers blinded me. I tripped over my own bare feet. Instead of hitting the floor, I crashed into a wall of solid muscle wrapped in incredibly expensive fabric. Two strong, large hands gripped my upper arms, steadying me with an unforgiving grip. My head snapped up. Through my hazy, d**g-addled vision, I met a pair of the coldest, most piercing grey eyes I had ever seen. His gaze flicked downward for a fraction of a second. My white silk blouse was completely transparent from the water, clinging to every curve, putting the black lace of my soaking-wet b*a on full display. I saw a muscle in his jaw feather, his eyes darkening instantly. But it was his scent—a deep, intoxicating blend of cold cedar and frost—that cut straight through the stifling heat of the d**g like a blast of ice. Before I could even open my mouth, the service door flew open. Mickey and two of his massive thugs burst into the hallway. "There you are, you little b***h!" Mickey snarled, taking a furious step forward. Mickey’s words died instantly in his throat. The color drained from the loan shark’s face as he finally looked at the man holding me. Behind the stranger, two massive bodyguards seamlessly stepped out of the shadows, hands resting on the grips of their holstered firearms. "Mr. Hayes," Mickey stammered, taking a terrified step backward, his hands raised in surrender. "I apologize... we were just..." The stranger didn't flinch. He simply looked down at my shivering, completely soaked, sheer top. "She is mine," he said. It wasn't a defense. It was an absolute decree. Mickey swallowed hard, practically scrambling over his own men to retreat back into the hallway, the heavy door swinging shut behind them. As the immediate threat vanished, the last thread of adrenaline keeping me upright snapped. The aphrodisiac violently reclaimed every nerve ending in my body. My legs gave out. Before my knees could hit the floor, strong arms scooped me up. The world tilted into a chaotic, dizzying blur. I vaguely registered the hum of a private elevator and the soft ping of a floor arrival. I didn't know who this man was. I didn't care. I only knew he had saved me, and his skin was the only cool surface in my burning world. I buried my face into his neck, my wet clothes soaking through his crisp dress shirt, blindly chasing his scent. Click. The heavy oak doors of a penthouse suite closed, sealing us inside. He set me down on my feet in the dark foyer, but his arm stayed hooked firmly around my waist to keep me from falling. I couldn't think. Driven entirely by feral instinct, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressed my soaking wet, burning body against his chest, and crashed my lips against his throat. He went dangerously still. A low, guttural groan vibrated deep in his chest. Then, his control snapped. His large hand tangled fiercely into my wet hair, tilting my head up as his mouth crashed down on mine. It was a hungry, punishing kiss that devoured my last breath. He backed me up until I hit the solid wall, his thigh pressing between my legs, sending a jolt of agonizing pleasure straight to my core. The sound of tearing fabric echoed in the quiet room as his hands gripped the front of my ruined silk blouse, ripping it down the middle. The cool air hit my flushed, bare skin for only a second before his hot palms replaced it, calloused fingers unhooking the front clasp of my wet lace b*a with effortless precision. I gasped into his mouth, my fingernails digging desperately into his broad shoulders as he lifted me off the floor. I wrapped my legs around his waist, whimpering as he carried me blindly through the dark suite and dropped me onto the center of a massive, silk-sheeted bed. He followed me down instantly. The expensive fabric of his suit was discarded somewhere in the shadows, replaced by the searing heat of his bare skin against mine. I didn't know his name, didn't know his face in the dark, but when he finally pushed into me, tearing a sharp, breathless cry from my throat, the d**g-induced fire in my blood exploded into a chaotic symphony of absolute pleasure. The nightmare of the night dissolved, leaving only the intoxicating rhythm of a stranger's body claiming mine until the early hours of the morning.