Wrong Room: The Ruthless CEO's Captive

I stumbled into the wrong hotel room while drunk and accidentally lost my virginity to a stranger in the pitch black.

I fled at dawn, hoping to erase the painful mistake. But when I went to a private clinic for a checkup, the "doctor" who walked in and locked the door was him—Cain Reed, a billionaire who coldly declared my body was now his "responsibility."

When I tried to escape, he cornered me in the parking garage, threw me into his bulletproof Maybach, and locked me inside his high-security Tribeca penthouse.

He had already investigated my entire life—my abandoned childhood, my dead grandmother, my student loans.

"You took my first time, and I took yours," he whispered, pinning me against the glass. "You belong to me now."

He demanded my complete submission, threatening to stalk my job and my apartment if I dared to run again.

I was terrified and suffocating. Why me? Out of all the women in New York, why was this ruthless, powerful man so dangerously obsessed with a nobody who made a drunken mistake?

His possessive need felt like drowning, a gilded cage I would never escape.

I couldn't let him consume me. Pretending to surrender, I negotiated a public date and watched his luxury car drive away.

Then, I pulled out my phone and texted an old college acquaintance.

If Cain Reed wanted to control my life, I was going to create a "serious boyfriend" to fight back.