Escaping My Vicious Billionaire Husband

The heavy metal doors of the federal prison groaned open.

The screeching sound of rusty hinges echoed in the damp morning air. Colette stepped out of the dark concrete tunnel. The sudden glare of the sun stabbed at her eyes. She hadn't seen unfiltered sunlight in two years.

Dwayne Boggs, the prison guard, shoved her hard between the shoulder blades.

"Move it," he grunted.

Colette stumbled forward. Her worn sneakers scraped against the rough concrete, and she barely caught her balance before her knees hit the ground.

She stood up straight and sucked in a deep breath. The air smelled like wet dirt and exhaust fumes, but it was the smell of freedom. The tight, permanent knot in her shoulders finally dropped a fraction of an inch.

She lifted her head, scanning the empty road for the bus stop.

Instead, a massive, black armored SUV sat idling by the curb. It looked like a military tank wrapped in glossy paint. It completely blocked her path.

The heavy passenger door swung open.

A man stepped out. He was built like a brick wall, his face devoid of any human emotion. Colette recognized him instantly. It was K. Bishop, the head of security for Ferris Vance.

Bishop marched toward her. His massive frame blocked out the sun, casting a cold shadow over her.

Colette's stomach dropped to her shoes. Her survival instincts screamed at her to run. She took a quick step back, trying to pivot and sprint past him.

Bishop didn't even flinch. He reached out with a thick hand encased in black leather.

His fingers clamped around her thin bicep like a steel vice.

"Let go of me!" Colette screamed, her voice cracking with terror. She thrashed against his grip and whipped her head around toward the prison gates. "Help! Dwayne, help me!"

Bishop reached into his tailored jacket and casually tossed a thick, unmarked white envelope onto the ground near the gate. Dwayne Boggs stood right inside the gates. He looked directly at her. Then, his eyes flicked down to the envelope. With a blank expression, he picked it up, turned his back, and hit the red button on the wall. The metal doors began to slide shut, sealing away her only hope.

Bishop yanked her forward. She was completely defenseless against his raw strength. He dragged her to the SUV, pulled open the rear door, and shoved her inside.

The door slammed shut behind her.

The bright morning light vanished, replaced by the dark tint of the armored windows. The air inside the cabin was suffocatingly cold, thick with the expensive, heavy scent of cedarwood cologne.

Colette pushed herself up from the leather floorboards. Her breath hitched in her throat.

Her eyes locked onto a pair of irises as cold and unforgiving as arctic ice.

Ferris Vance sat perfectly still in the shadows of the plush leather seat. His long, tailored legs were crossed. His long fingers lazily spun a silver lighter over his knuckles.

Colette's pupils dilated.