The Billionaire Hunting His Ghost Wife

"You will go to that suite, Kaliyah, or you can kiss your grandmother's trust fund goodbye."

The memory of Preston's voice played on a loop in her head. Kaliyah Acevedo stepped out of the elevator. The thick carpet of the Elysium Hotel's top floor absorbed the sound of her footsteps. She took a deep breath. The air in her lungs felt like crushed glass. Her fingers gripped the cheap leather of her clutch so hard her knuckles turned a stark, bone white.

She walked down the long, silent corridor. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Three years of a paper marriage to a man she had never met. Now, her father was forcing this meeting. She stopped in front of the presidential suite. She raised her fist to knock.

The heavy carved wooden door was already cracked open.

Kaliyah pushed it. The hinges made no sound. The entryway was dark. The only light came from the dim sconces on the walls. The air inside hit her face. It was unnaturally hot. A thick, suffocating heat that made the fine hairs on her arms stand up.

"Bryton?" she called out. Her voice was barely a whisper.

The only answer was a heavy, ragged breath from the shadows.

She stepped carefully past the foyer. She walked around a large decorative screen. A man's suit jacket lay crumpled on the floor. A silk tie was discarded a few feet away.

A large, burning hot hand shot out from the darkness.

Long fingers wrapped around her wrist like an iron vice. The heat of his skin seared through her thin blouse. Before she could even gasp, a brutal force yanked her forward. She crashed into a wall of solid muscle.

The heavy scent of aged whiskey and raw male sweat flooded her senses. It choked the air out of her lungs.

She pushed her hands against his chest. His muscles were rigid and slick with sweat. He was a furnace.

Bryton Lott slammed her back against the cold wall. The impact knocked the breath out of her. His eyes were bloodshot. The pupils were blown wide, swallowing the iris. He could not focus on her face. He just stared blindly at her silhouette.

He let out a low, guttural curse. The sound was thick with absolute agony and blind hunger.

"I am your..." Kaliyah opened her mouth to speak.

His large hand snapped up. His fingers clamped around her jaw, forcing her mouth shut. The grip was punishing.

His mouth crashed down on hers. It was not a kiss. It was a violent collision. His teeth scraped against her bottom lip. The taste of copper bloomed in her mouth. She hit his shoulders with her free hand. She punched the hard muscle of his back.

He did not even flinch. He grabbed both of her wrists in one massive hand and pinned them above her head against the wallpaper.

His free hand grabbed the collar of her silk blouse. He pulled. The fabric tore.