Chapter 1

Ravi Dumont

I was inside a goddamn trunk. They were kidnapping me for money—money I'd been making from my casinos for the past ten years. My guards were all dead, except one: the traitor. But his mistake was letting me see his face, because if he thought I was going to die after handing over everything I owned, he didn't know me very well.

The car stopped somewhere I guessed was a dirt road, since I could hear gravel pinging against the undercarriage. I closed my eyes when I heard the trunk latch pop open.

"Boss, he's still out cold," one of them said. Not the traitor.

"We'll have to pull him out and tie him to the chair inside. Be careful—if he wakes up, he'll kill everyone and the whole plan goes to shit."

I felt them dragging me out. Four men to carry me, two on my legs and two on my arms. When the cold floor hit my back—they'd set me on the ground—I cracked my eyes open just enough. All four had their backs to me, staring at the chair they wanted to strap me to.

Then the same four grabbed me again and sat me down. The moment I felt one of them reach for my wrist to pull it behind the chair, I yanked it free and opened my eyes. I grabbed his arm and hauled him into my lap as the others rushed me, and I was already on my feet. I threw him into one of the others, sending them both crashing to the floor. Then I started throwing punches and kicks at every one of them.

"Don... forgive me..." The traitor's voice. I turned to face him. The man who'd nearly become the head of my security because he'd earned my trust.

"God forgives. You're going to hell." I crouched, snatched a gun from one of his men on the floor, and aimed it at his head. "You miserable piece of shit. If you wanted more money, why didn't you just ask?"

"Because I'd have to pay it back... and I know how you collect. Would've been the perfect heist if you hadn't woken up."

"Too bad you picked the wrong prey. See you in hell, you bastard." I pulled the trigger without a shred of remorse. But the second I hit him, searing pain tore through my back. I spun around and emptied the entire clip into the son of a bitch who'd just shot me. "Motherfucker!"

I dragged myself to the door, pain ripping through my chest. Got into the car and started driving, but my vision was going blurry fast. I ended up stopping in the middle of the road and stumbled out, leaning my back against the car. I looked up, asking God for an angel to save me before I died. Then a set of high beams lit up the road. And from behind them, a woman in white walked toward me, looking exactly like the angel I'd just begged God for. I couldn't hold on any longer. I blacked out.

* * *

When I came to, the pain where I'd been shot was gone, but the moment I tried to sit up, a sharp stab shot through my back and I let out a low groan. I looked around and realized I was in a wooden house that seemed abandoned—simple, old, but strangely clean. The towels on the bed were spotless, as if this one corner was the only part of the place anyone actually cared for.

"Good, you're awake. I'll give you something for the pain."

I turned my head toward the voice and found the woman in white coming toward me, holding a pink bottle and a pill.

"You were very lucky today, sir. I left work late and found you out there on the road. I usually pass through an hour earlier—you'd have been dead if you'd been out there any longer. You're also lucky this house was close to where you were shot, and that I had clean towels in my car, or it would've been over." I took the pill from her hand, still trying to get my bearings.

"Are you a doctor?" She shook her head with a small smile.

"I'm a nurse, but I pay attention to the doctors at work. I shouldn't have done that procedure on you, but you weren't going to make it to a hospital—you were losing too much blood. Now rest. I'm leaving some medicine, water, and a snack here for you, and then I'm going home. Tomorrow, before my shift, I'll come back to check on you." I frowned, not liking the idea of her leaving one bit.

"Why don't you stay here with me?" She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, like I'd asked the most obvious question in the world.

"Because you're out of danger now. But if you're scared, I can take you to a hospital and leave you there. Except, since you were shot, they'd be required to call the police, and with gunshot residue on your hands, I don't think that'd be the best idea—would it?" An angel and smart. I nodded in silence, just watching as she tidied everything up before heading out.

"Wait... what's your name?" She glanced over her shoulder.

"Lorena Sales. And you?"

"Ravi." I didn't give my last name so I wouldn't scare her off. "We'll see each other again, nurse."

"If you're still here tomorrow, maybe." She waved on her way out the door.

I ate the snack she'd left me, took the medicine, and after a while, I made my way out of the house. My torso was bandaged, and I had to admit—she'd done one hell of a job. And the most impressive part: she'd done it all alone, without making a fuss. That was exactly the kind of woman I wanted in my life.

Smart, careful, and gorgeous as hell. Dangerously attractive—the kind that gets inside a man's head. And she'd gotten inside mine like no other woman ever had. I walked until I reached a main road, and after a few minutes, one of my guards finally found me.

I got in the car and told them to take me home. The second I arrived, I opened my laptop and looked up Lorena Sales. My whole world nearly crumbled when I saw she was married. But not all was lost. The silver lining was that she was with a nobody, and men like him tended to have an enormous appetite for money.

All I needed to do was put my casino in his path. Maybe someone he knew who already came to the place could suggest a visit. I'd let him win a little first, let him taste what luck felt like, then pull the rug out from under him before he knew what hit him.

And the final play would be simple: his life or his beautiful wife. He'd have to choose, and I already knew which one he'd pick. He'd hand her over to me, because I was the man Lorena deserved—not some broke deadbeat loser like him.

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