Five years ago, I had money, and I used it to force the man I called my older brother to be mine.

Five years later, he was a powerful CEO, and I was on my knees at his feet, ruined by his own hand.

Everyone said he hated me to the bone.

I thought so too.

So I stayed out of his way. Avoided him.

When I noticed him secretly following me, I pretended I hadn't seen him.

I lived like anyone else. Ate, worked, slept, looked for someone to date.

Then I met someone promising.

He kissed me.

That night, the CEO showed up at my door, reeking of alcohol, his eyes red.

1.

It was raining.

I stumbled out of the private club and braced myself against a wall, retching for what felt like forever.

The icy rain washed the mess off my stomach.

Rubbing my throbbing forehead, I slowly sat down.

Water soaked through my pants.

God, it was cold.

I shuddered and dug a little wad of cash out of my coat as if it were buried treasure.

About three hundred dollars.

I'd just earned it drinking in someone else's place.

I narrowed my eyes and counted it carefully, then let out a laugh.

How the tables had turned.

I used to be the one buying other people.

Whatever.

My head felt a little better.

I got up, shook the water off my clothes, and started home.

I hadn't gone two steps before the whole world tilted.

I'd never been good at holding my liquor. Since going broke, cigarettes and alcohol had become luxuries I couldn't afford to touch.

After having that much hard liquor poured into me, anyone would have been on the floor.

I fought to stay upright.

The pavement kept getting closer anyway.

Finally, I dropped to my knees in front of a car.

The money I'd worked so hard for scattered out of my arms and onto the ground.

The wet bills clung to the pavement.

I swore and reached for them.

I was too drunk to see properly.

After a long time fumbling, I still couldn't pick them up.

Idiot.

A pair of reddish-brown leather shoes entered my blurred vision and stopped beside my fingers.

The rain seemed to stop.

2. 

It hadn't.

Someone was standing over me with an umbrella.

I followed the outstretched hand upward.

Through my swimming vision, Adrian Mercer's face slowly came into focus.

My heart gave a violent thud.

I'd imagined running into him again more times than I could count.

In those versions, I'd usually rebuilt my fortune. Made something of myself. Become the dazzling Julian Ashford again.

I would stamp my foot at him, all confidence and attitude.

Never this.

Never crouching at his feet like a stray, filthy and pathetic.

I hoped he wouldn't recognize me.

Unfortunately, he probably would have recognized me even as a pile of ashes.

A mocking smile lifted his mouth.

He took a step forward.

Right across my fingers.

Another shoe print on bills that were already dirty enough.

The polished toe of his shoe tipped up my chin.

He looked down at me.

"Isn't this my master? How did you end up like this?"

His gaze flicked toward the brightly lit club behind me.

The contempt wasn't even disguised.

"Julian Ashford is doing that for pocket change now?"

He had the wrong idea.

I delivered food. I'd happened to have a delivery here today and picked up a little extra money while I was at it.

My brief silence must have looked like an admission.

His expression darkened.

He was angry.

The toe of his shoe ground harder against my cheek.

"You could have come to me. I'd pay you more than they would."

I considered how to hit back.

Nothing came to me.

I was flat broke. Who was I kidding?

I could still disgust him, though.

I grabbed his trouser leg with my dirty hand and squeezed, leaving a dark handprint.

Then I tipped my head back and grinned shamelessly.

"Did you get so used to being my dog that you still lose your shit whenever you see me?"