Chapter 5

The man's hand was now less than an inch away.

Sorry, Marcus. But tonight, I'm putting honor on hold.

A sharp, splintering sound shattered the ballroom atmosphere.

My stiletto heel violently stomped through the yacht's expensive solid-wood flooring, pinning myself firmly to the deck!

Chad froze.

I opened my eyes, a wild, predatory excitement blooming in my chest.

I grabbed his outstretched wrist and twisted it downward.

"AAARGH!"

A squeal like a slaughtered pig tore through the air.

Disgusted, I tossed his arm aside, ripped off my restrictive black suit jacket, and kicked off my heels.

Beneath my suit pants, my ankles were wrapped tightly in professional MMA hand wraps.

Before Chad could recover, I dropped my shoulder, grabbed his collar and belt, and executed a flawless, high-amplitude hip throw!

A one-hundred-and-eighty-pound grown man flew through the air in a perfect arc, crashing headfirst into the seven-tier champagne tower in the center of the room!

Glass exploded, and expensive champagne rained down.

Chad twitched twice on the floor before passing out cold amidst the shards.

The room went dead silent for two seconds before the wealthy guests erupted into terrified screams.

"Roxy! Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

Richard looked like he was about to have a stroke, his pointing finger shaking violently.

"This is Vance property! You're going to get us all killed!"

In the corner, Chloe stood with her hands over her mouth, completely awestruck. There was a glimmer of sheer, unfiltered admiration in her eyes.

I casually rolled my shoulders, my neck popping loudly.

"What are you screaming for?" I sneered at Richard.

"Didn't you say the Vances love violence? I'm just adapting early. Showing off my core competency."

"Is that so?"

A deep, raspy voice echoed from the entrance.

The heavy double doors of the ballroom were pushed open by two rows of imposing bodyguards in black suits.

The crowd parted instantly, fleeing to the sides like they were escaping a monster.

The legendary, terrifying heir of the Vance empire—Damian Vance—stepped over the wreckage.

He was nearly six-foot-three, with a dark, suffocatingly oppressive face. As he walked, he slipped off his expensive suit coat, tossing it to a bodyguard, and began slowly unbuttoning his silver cufflinks.

Even beneath his dress shirt, the outline of his dense, powerful muscles and explosive strength was terrifyingly clear.

The dark, bloody aura radiating from him made it hard for anyone in the room to breathe.

Richard's knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, his face white.

Chloe closed her eyes, unable to watch the bloody scene she assumed was about to happen.

Damian stopped exactly three paces away from me.

His pitch-black eyes locked onto mine.

Everyone in the room knew it: Roxy Summer was a dead woman walking.

But instead of taking a step back, the blood in my veins began to boil with pure excitement.

I licked my lips, staring straight at him. Slowly, I pulled off my silk tie, tore off the hem of my shirt, and wrapped the cloth tightly around my knuckles, making a makeshift pair of hand wraps.

My eyes gleamed as I scanned his stance and his center of gravity.

"Your base is solid. You're a real fighter," I said.

I tapped my wrapped fists together and flashed him a wild, cocky grin.

"So, Mr. Vance. Are we doing UFC rules tonight, or raw, unrestricted street fighting?"

"Oh, and just to be clear... if I accidentally kill you, your family won't sue mine, right?"