Chapter 1 Why Does It Have To Be Me

Daylight lingered above Onistin, yet a surge of dark clouds crept in, swiftly blotting out the last rays.

Within the penthouse, every lamp glimmered, wrapping the open space in warmth while city lights flickered beyond the endless glass.

Droplets slid down foggy panes as Cheryl Blake pressed close to the floor-to-ceiling window, hair slicked to her brow. Her silk robe clung loosely at her hips, skin flushed and luminous.

Thunder cracked through the night, swallowing Cheryl's soft gasp as her body trembled at its peak.

The man retreated, his heat dissipating, leaving her to shudder in the cold left behind.

Before relief could settle, strong arms caught her and whirled her back, reigniting the blaze in her blood. She was swept up like a surfer battling wild surf, utterly carried by the surge.

Moments blurred together, time slipping away. Again and again, darkness threatened to claim her, only for new waves of rapture to pull her back.

Rain gathered along the window ledge, turning the air heavy and thick with moisture.

Dawn crept in, pale and hesitant, as Cheryl felt the man's weight return. He pinned her wrists, tracing the tiny red mole beneath her eye with calloused fingers.

A voice, deep and jagged as broken glass, sent shivers down her spine.

"Any idea who I am? You had the nerve to slip into my bed. Quite daring, don't you think?"

Something in his tone-a razor's edge of seduction and danger-made Cheryl's heart leap and nearly falter, panic mingling with the wildness of her dream.

With a gasp, she dragged in deep breaths of air, grounding herself as the last wisps of the dream faded.

A shrill vibration from her phone jolted Cheryl, and seeing Rodger Dale calling made her frown deepen.

Rodger's ruthless proposal from a week ago still echoed in her thoughts.

"Cheryl, you've met Shane-the Warren family's golden boy, right? Do me a favor. Sleep with him just once. I'm head over heels for your sister, and if she gives up Shane, she'll finally be mine. You'll help me out, won't you?"

His words had landed like a slap from a stranger, and Cheryl could still picture that smile stretched across Rodger's face.

Her response had been sharp. "There are plenty of women dying for a shot at Shane. Why does it have to be me?"

Rodger's answer was cold and quick. "You're Zoey's most hated sister-the last person she'd want to see with him."

Dropping her gaze, Cheryl let a wry, mocking smile play on her lips as she answered on the final ring.

"What's up, Roddy?" Her tone was sweet and agreeable, practiced to perfection.

A pause lingered before Rodger spoke. "There's a party tonight. Shane will be there."

So that was his angle.

"Sure thing, I'll be there," Cheryl replied, her voice carrying easy warmth as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary.

Instructions rolled off Rodger's tongue with no room for argument. "The driver's got your outfit. Put it on," he instructed, tossing in casually. "That big Echo Reverie spring-summer retro show finale? Let Zoey take your spot. I'll line something else up for you."

His assumption that everything would just fall into place made Cheryl want to laugh at his arrogance.

From the beginning, Zoey Blake, her half-sister, did everything possible to block Cheryl from the Blake Group, convinced she would try to steal family wealth.

Cheryl had never wanted a fight. Then, modeling happened to come into her life.

Steering clear of Zoey and her family had seemed simple enough-until Zoey got bored and chased after modeling herself last year.

With the Blake name and Rodger's connections, Zoey shot up overnight, landing jobs that should have belonged to Cheryl.

One moment of Zoey's whimsy flipped Cheryl's world upside down, with Rodger always pulling strings in the background.

Time after time, he tossed Cheryl's hard-won opportunities to Zoey, barely bothering to pretend it wasn't deliberate.

That was the way it had always been. Whenever Zoey wanted something-even if it was Cheryl's-she was expected to hand it over.

The explanation was never complicated.

Zoey, after all, was the legitimate daughter-Rodger's favorite, the one he would do anything for.

Cheryl, on the other hand, was a nobody struggling just to breathe in their world.

"Whatever you want, Roddy," Cheryl murmured, surrendering without protest.

The call ended, Rodger's satisfaction practically audible in the silence.

A glint of cold settled in Cheryl's eyes as she unlocked her phone and edited Rodger's contact name, switching it from Roddy to Jerk with a small, bitter satisfaction.

A slow exhale calmed her nerves before she pushed herself to her feet and stepped under the hot stream of the shower.

Thirty minutes later, her phone buzzed with a call from the Dale family's driver.

Answering the door, Cheryl accepted the garment bag-and even with her nerves steeled, the revealing silk dress inside still managed to catch her off guard.

Words hovered on her lips, but she swallowed them. Complaints would fall on deaf ears.

Instead, she disappeared into her bedroom to change.

Standing in front of the mirror, Cheryl looked every inch the showstopper-her beauty bold enough to halt traffic, skin smooth as porcelain, her gaze pure temptation.

A single red beauty mark below her eye only made her allure more unforgettable.

Her silhouette was flawless, sculpted and perfectly balanced-nothing artificial about her appeal.

When Cheryl finally emerged, the driver risked a glance, cheeks reddening before he looked away. "Are you ready, Miss Blake?"

A silent nod was her answer.

Nocturne was the kind of place only the city's elite could enter-a playground for Onistin's richest and most powerful.

Curiosity danced in Cheryl's eyes; she had never been here before, and every detail pulled her in.

Her escort guided her through a velvet-roped VIP entrance, leading her directly to the exclusive upper floor.

Inside, the air was thick with cigar smoke, swirling in the dimly lit private suite.

Pushing through the door, Cheryl was hit with a thick wall of smoke that made her cough, eyes stinging from the haze.

Masking her irritation, she found Rodger through the blur and forced a bright smile. "Rodger."

A quick glance ran over her revealing dress, but Rodger barely reacted, simply gesturing her over with a careless wave. "Cheryl, over here."

She crossed the room with practiced poise. "Coming."

Every movement drew attention-the silk clung to her figure, bare legs shifting confidently as she glided forward.

Her back was nearly exposed, shoulder blades catching the dim light, her skin luminous and impossibly smooth.

Ignoring the predatory glances that followed her, Cheryl swept her gaze across the crowd, careful not to let her scrutiny show.

One figure drew her attention in the southwest corner.

Reclining with effortless confidence, the man sat with legs crossed, his stare calm, the light silhouetting him and casting a mysterious, dangerous edge over his features.

For a fleeting moment, their eyes met-his gaze cool, her heart thudding in response.

A thrill shot through Cheryl as she remembered her purpose, every nerve alight with a cocktail of nerves and excitement.