Chapter 1
I'm drugged and caged in a room with a man I don't even know.
The air is thick with the hum of high-definition cameras tracking our every move, broadcasting our nightmare live to the darkest corners of the web.
Out there, a faceless audience is in a total frenzy, placing their sick bets on exactly how long we can hold out before we break.
Now, I'm staring down two paths. Either I let this drug tear me apart until I'm a corpse, or I trash every lick of my dignity and put on a live sex show with this guy while thousands of people watch us play it out.
*****
"Surprise! And welcome to 'The Breaking Point!'
"Tonight, we have a frosty illustrator and a stoic, alpha CEO!
"We've spent a whole year prepping for this show, so we hope you enjoy it!"
A synthetic voice echoed through the sealed room as a massive screen on the wall flickered to life.
Four industrial spotlights blasted on, their blinding white light stabbing into my eyes.
The sharp pain made me hiss.
"You're awake?"
A man's voice, rough and gravelly, cut through the silence.
I turned my head. My breath caught in my throat.
It was Leon Lancaster, the heir to Lancaster Biopharma, a man famous for his ice-cold demeanor.
We had met twice at a cocktail party for an art exhibition where my illustrations for his company's new drug packaging had just been approved. We hadn't exchanged more than three sentences.
"Mr. Lancaster, where are we?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"An underground warehouse," he answered flatly. "We're being live-streamed."
Speaking, he retreated to the farthest corner from me, his breathing heavy in the silence.
"Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here?" I asked, fanning myself as I scanned our surroundings.
He gave me a strange look, a flicker of what looked like embarrassment crossing his face. His lips parted as if to say something, but he stayed silent.
What a weirdo.
But he was right. We were on camera. HD-800 cameras, the kind frequently used on the dark web, were tucked into every corner of the warehouse. Their transmission range was less than two miles.
A strange heat was starting to build under my skin. I forced myself to take a deep breath, trying to make small talk to distract myself from the increasingly intense, unsettling feeling.
"Mr. Lancaster, how did they get you, too?" I asked.
I walked my own path without a fleet of bodyguards. Setting a trap for someone as carefree as me was probably the easiest job.
But Leon was always surrounded by security. Taking him down would be no easy feat.
Why were we the ones caught in this?
A suppressed groan escaped his throat. "I was betrayed..."
"Who's behind this?"
Whoever had the balls to go after someone like Leon on the dark web must have paid a fortune.
"I don't know," he bit out, each word forced through clenched teeth. "But I will."
The massive screen was flooded with a waterfall of comments.
[Holy shit! Isn't that Natalie Foster? The legendary illustrator who's impossible to get a date with?]
[I heard all four of the city's most eligible bachelors tried and failed.]
[Yeah, she's famous for being untouchable!]
[And the other one is Leon Lancaster? The famous celibate mogul? This is insane!]
[Damn, I'm so hyped!]
[The dark web is on another level! How did they even get these two?]
[Rumor is they've been planning this for a year!]
[The "virgin" and the "priest"? This pairing is legendary.]
[I love seeing these pure prudes get down and dirty on camera.]
The words felt like filthy hands, stripping me bare for the world to see.
"Let us out! This is illegal!" I yelled and instinctively curled into myself, my voice shaking uncontrollably.
The synthetic voice let out an exaggerated, mocking laugh. "Oh, help me! I'm so scared!
"Ladies and gentlemen! The thirty-minute countdown begins now! Place your bets! Let's see how long they can last and who's going to break first!"
The chat exploded.
[What's with the high-and-mighty act? Once the drug hits, you'll be begging for it.]
[They've been in there for almost half an hour. Why hasn't anything happened yet?]
[Is this fake?]
[I'll bet twenty minutes. The girl's not even feeling it yet.]
[They're both gorgeous, though. This was worth the money!]
[Stop wasting time! Get to it! I've got 60,000 dollars riding on them cracking!]
Drugs? Was it the kind of actual "love potion" or some kind of "heat drug" from those trashy novels?
I glanced at Leon. He was in much worse shape than I was.
Sweat dripped from his temples as he braced himself against the wall, his knuckles bulging. The muscles in his forearms were corded and trembling, as if he were wrestling with an invisible beast.
I finally understood his earlier hesitation. He couldn't say it. A man like him wasn't built for such a shameful confession.
I threw myself at the heavy iron door, pounding on it like a maniac.
"Is anyone there? Open the door! Open up!"
"You're just making it worse, Natalie," Leon cut in. "The drug will hit you faster."
His voice was a seductive poison, and his breath scorched the air.
In this situation, that voice was a potent aphrodisiac.
A wild thought struck me: if he snapped, should I push him away?
A shiver ran through me as I realized, with a jolt of shame, that I was already picturing it. My mind had already gone into the gutter, imagining exactly how we would do it.
Desperate to escape both him and my own thoughts, I kicked the iron door with everything I had.
"It's welded shut..." Leon said again.
I spun around and glared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. "So what do we do? Wait for the drug to kill us? Or are we supposed to fuck like dogs right here for a thousand people to watch?" I yelled.
The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
A flash of red flared in his eyes, but he gritted his teeth and looked away, his Adam's apple bobbing violently. He was clearly suffering more than I was.
My words had sounded like an accusation, like I thought he would take advantage of me.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, bowing my head as the first sob escaped. "I'm just... so scared."
"Don't worry," he said, clenching his fists so tight. Sweat poured down his face, soaking the back of his shirt. "I will not touch you."