Hotel Room
Preston strode in and immediately spotted the woman sprawled unconscious across the bed.
She was dressed in a crisp blue-and-white blouse and a tailored gray skirt, her curves entuated by the fit. Pale skin, tousled hair, and lips stained a deep red -she was a vision that practically begged to be ravished.
Preston''s gaze burned like a torch, hunger zing in his eyes.
Smack!
He brought his palm down hard on Rowena''s backside.
"You really are something, aren''t you? Can''t even keep your hands off your own friends. But hey, I like that about you."
Rowena''s eyes shed with disdain for a split second, but she slid away and forced a coy smile.
"Mr. Dunbar, I''m just doing what you asked. You realize, after tonight, you''ll have slept with the prince''s woman."
Preston pulled a card from his wallet and shoved it into Rowena''s cleavage.
"Get lost. Don''t ruin my night."
Rowena slipped out and closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment, her chest heaving.
"Isadora, don''t me me for this. If you''d helped me, it never would''vee to this. This is all on you."
With that, Rowena nced back at the room, then walked away.
Preston lingered by the bed, a greedy, predatory grin twisting his lips.
His hands worked at the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one before tossing the shirt aside.
Next, he reached for the ck leather belt around his waist.
Click.
He unfastened the buckle and slid the entire belt free.
Preston''s eyes glinted with an almost feverish excitement.
The woman on the bed-Victor''s ex-would soon be his, too.
Just imagining it sent a thrill through him.
Preston climbed onto the bed, ready to wrap the belt around Isadora''s wrists.
Suddenly-
Ding dong!
His hand froze.
Preston''s brow furrowed in annoyance.
"Who the hell is bothering me now?"
The doorbell kept ringing-again and again, relentless.
He shot a nce at the still-unconscious woman, then got up with a face like thunder.
Grumbling, he looped the belt back through his pants and stormed over to the door.
He yanked it open.
Terrell stood in the hallway, his expression grim beneath the sharp lines of his gray suit.
Preston raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Beaumont, what brings you here?"
Terrell''s eyes, usually mild, were cold as ice.
He didn''t waste time. "Who''s in the room?"
Preston blocked the doorway with his broad frame and gave a mockingugh.
"What, I''m not allowed a little fun?
Do you our own affairs? This
have enough to worry
about
wi
isn''t any of your business.
Terrell brushed past him, barging into the room.
Preston sputtered and hurried after, voice rising in outrage.
"Terrell! What do you think you''re doing? The Dunbar Group and y family have always kept to our own sides-you''re crossing the t line here!”
But Terrell''s attention was fixed on the bed. When he saw Isadora, recognition-
and fury-shed in his eyes.
He checked her clothes, making sure she was unharmed, and only then let out a breath.
Then he spun around and swung his fist.
"Scum!"
Preston, caught off guard, staggered backward, blood trickling from the corner of
his mouth. He wiped it away with a sneer.
"You think I''m afraid of you, Terrell?"
Terrell''s posture radiated menace. "You''re notying a finger on her."
Preston scoffed. "So that''s it-you want her too? If you wanted a turn, you should''ve just said so. I''ll send her to your room when I''m done."
Terrell closed the distance in a single stride, fist raised to strike again.
Preston''s eyes glittered with a feral challenge. He jutted out his chin, voice low and threatening.
"Mr. Fawcett, one more punch and your precious family''s reputation goes down with you."
Terrell''s fist hovered in the air for a tense moment before he slowly lowered it. "I''m taking her with me."
"No way! I went through a lot to get her here."
The two men faced off at the bedside, tension crackling between them.