Chapter 167: The Devil’s Woman Saved The Night

​Damian’s arm clamped down on Ana’s waist with bruising force, pulling her hips flush against his side. The air between the two men turned instantly to pure ice.

​"Watch your tongue, Delgado," Damian rasped, his gravelly voice dropping to a low, lethal hum that carried an unmistakable promise of violence. "You’ve lingered long enough."

​Delgado didn’t flinch. He took an unhurried sip of his bourbon, his dark eyes never leaving Anastasia.

​"I was just waiting to say goodnight to your partner," Delgado replied smoothly, stepping half an inch closer, daring Damian to react in front of the press line just beyond the archway.

He held Ana’s hazel gaze with brazen, sharp intent.

"The paperwork for that forty-percent blind trust will hit your private, encrypted server by exactly 1:00 AM, Anastasia. In the Vance name. You hold the pen. The only question left is whether you have the nerve to sign it without asking for permission."

​A muscle ticked violently in Damian’s rigid jaw. Before he could snap Delgado’s wrist, Ana stepped smoothly between their opposing fires, offering the younger tycoon a cool, dazzling smile that gave away nothing.

​"My server is always active, Mike," Ana said softly, her voice melodic and untouchable. "Let’s see if your numbers match your audacity. Have a good evening."

​Delgado chuckled, offered a mocking half-bow to Damian, and melted back into the glittering crowd.

​The second Delgado turned his back, Damian’s hand shot down, his long fingers wrapping around Ana’s wrist in an iron vise. He didn’t say a word.

Ignoring the sharp, violent throb radiating from his freshly stitched flank, he steered her through the arched private gallery toward the secluded VIP powder suites away from the main floor.

​He shoved open the door to the powder room, pulled her inside, and threw the heavy deadbolt.

​The silence of the marble room was suffocating. Damian crowded her back against the vanity counter, his towering frame blocking her reflection entirely. He gripped her hips, hauling her forward until she was trapped between his thighs.

​"You like testing my leash tonight, don’t you?" He growled, his gravelly voice thick with a dark, suffocating possessiveness.

​He reached out, his rough thumb swiping across her lower lip, smearing the crimson color as he stared at the faint red mark his teeth had left on her neck above the emeralds. His chest heaved against hers, his knuckles brushing her throat with bruising reverence.

​"Fix your lipstick, Anastasia," he ordered, his voice raw, unyielding, his eyes pinned to hers with pure ownership. "Smooth your hair. But don’t you dare think for a fraction of a second that Delgado’s paperwork changes what happened against that pillar. You belong to me. Every breath, every signature, every inch."

​Ana met his burning gaze in the glass, her pulse still racing from the fever of his touch. Instead of cowering, a slow, dangerous smile curved her bruised lips as she reached into her clutch for her lipstick.

​"A master of the universe, yet rattled by an email, Damian?" She whispered silkily, applying a fresh coat of deep crimson with flawless precision. "Control yourself. The night isn’t over yet."

​She tucked the tube away, smoothed the silk over her hips, and unlocked the heavy door.

​They stepped out into the quiet, dim expanse of the private VIP corridor leading toward the executive suites and the secluded rear elevator bank. The plush carpet swallowed the sound of their footsteps.

​At the far end of the hallway, near the frosted glass doors of the service entrance, Ana caught a flicker of frantic motion.

​She slowed her pace, pulling subtly on Damian’s arm to keep them half-concealed in the shadow of the velvet drapery.

​Robert Xander and Gregory Hall were huddled near the private elevator panel. Xander was pale, his hands trembling as he spoke in a vicious, panicked whisper to two bulky men in nondescript dark suits... men wearing forged security credentials that Ana recognized from the service staff register as completely unauthorized.

​"...the private elevator opens directly onto the lower garage bay," Xander hissed, his voice carrying down the quiet hall, strained with manic desperation. "No cameras on the secondary service platform. The moment Sterling gets in, you cut the hydraulic override. A structural failure. The board takes emergency control the second the news hits the midnight wires. Do you understand? It has to happen before he leaves the building!"

​Gregory Hall was furiously typing on his phone, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. "Gilbert and Cross turned on us. If Damian walks out of here tonight, we’re going to federal prison by noon. Finish it!"

​Damian’s posture instantly went rigid beside her, a lethal stillness settling over his broad shoulders as his hand shifted toward the inside pocket of his tuxedo.

​Ana’s fingers clamped tight over his forearm.

​She looked up at him, her hazel eyes gleaming not with fear, but with a sharp, brilliant cruelty that stopped him dead in his tracks.

​"Don’t," Ana whispered, her voice barely a breath against his ear, dark and venomously calm. "Don’t confront them, Damian. They’re drowning in their own panic."

​A wicked smirk played upon her red lips as she tilted her head, looking down the corridor at the doomed traitors.

​"They want a fatal accident in that elevator bay?" She murmured, her mind already orchestrating the kill. "Then let’s make sure Robert and Gregory are the only ones standing inside it when the doors lock."

***********************

The metallic chime of the private elevator echoed through the secluded corridor.

​From the shadows of the velvet drapery, Ana watched as Robert Xander and Gregory Hall hastily slipped through the fire exit stairwell, leaving the two false security guards stationed discreetly by the service console.

The trap was armed. The hydraulic bypass was primed to release eighty feet of dead weight the moment the carriage detached from the upper cables.

​Footsteps clicked against the marble.

​A tall figure rounded the corner, unbuttoning his tuxedo jacket with careless ease, checking a sleek titanium smartwatch.

​It was Mike Delgado.

​The tech titan was heading straight for the illuminated call button, entirely unaware of the slaughter waiting beneath the floorboards. Across the hall, one of the saboteurs reached into his jacket, thumb hovering over the remote relay that would trigger the manual cable shear the second the doors shut.

​"Damian, hold your fire," Ana breathed, her fingers digging sharp into his forearm. "Stay back."

​Before Damian could move, Ana stepped cleanly out from behind the heavy velvet curtain into the dim light of the corridor, the midnight-silk of her gown whispering over the carpet.

​"Leaving so soon, Mr. Delgado?" She called out, her voice a cool, melodic chime that shattered the tense quiet.

​Delgado halted, his hand inches from the elevator threshold.

He turned, a slow, rakish smile curving his lips as he took in her approach. "Anastasia. I assumed you were still tied up with your fiancé’s territorial display."

​Behind him, the two hired guards froze, exchange panic stricken glances at the sudden interference.

​Ana glided forward until she stood directly between Delgado and the open steel doors. With effortless, poised grace, she reached out, caught the lapel of his open jacket, and gently pulled him two paces back toward the center of the hall.

​"A word of advice from someone who knows the infrastructure of this hotel," Ana murmured, leaning up until her lips hovered near the shell of his ear, her voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "If you step into that carriage, Mike, you won’t reach the parking bay. You’ll hit the concrete basement at ninety miles an hour. Hall and Xander just cut the hydraulic fail safe."

​Delgado went completely still. His smile vanished, replaced by the sharp instinct of a man who hadn’t survived the tech bloodbath by being stupid. His dark eyes flicked to the two guards by the service panel, noting the sweat on their temples, the rigid stance, the hands tucked under their jackets.

​Behind Ana, the shadows broke.

​Damian stepped forward like a phantom. He didn’t say a word. Moving with lethal, brutal efficiency despite the burning agony along his stitched ribs, he crossed the floor before the two saboteurs could draw breath.

Damian grabbed the first man by the throat, driving his skull back into the marble wall with a sickening, hollow crack, while his other hand clamped around the second man’s wrist, twisting the bone until the wireless relay clattered harmlessly to the carpet.

​The man collapsed, groaning in agony. Damian tossed the remote with his heel toward the private security phone, stepping over the crumpled bodies with cold, sovereign disgust.

He signaled two of his personal armed details who recovered instantly from the service hall to drag the men away toward Xander and Hall’s exit route.

​Delgado let out a slow, ragged breath, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the dark elevator shaft, the reality of what he had just avoided settling heavy in his chest.

​"Well," Delgado rasped, turning back to Anastasia, his voice laced with profound, shaken disbelief. "I suppose that makes me indefinitely in your debt."

​"I don’t collect debts in gratitude, Mike," Ana said smoothly, stepping toward the private terrace landing away from the blood on the floor. "I collect them in equity."

​Delgado followed her, leaning his back against the stone balustrade, his sharp gaze searching her face under the moonlight. "Name it. What do you want in return for my life?"