Craving My Ruthless Ceo novel Chapter 177

Chapter 177

Roman’s POV

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I stormed through the hallway. Elliot and two other guards followed me as we moved toward VIP Room 7. The corridor had already been cleared, members ushered out, their complaints silenced by one look from Elliot.

This was my club and my domain. Someone had dared to hurt what belonged to me under my own roof.

When I reached the door, I pulled out my management override card. The VIP rooms were designed with security codes that members could set themselves, locking the doors from the inside to ensure complete privacy.

Only management had access to override those codes when there were reports of unlawful activities that violated our strict guidelines.

I swiped the card across the reader. The lock beeped once, twice then clicked open, overriding Pierre’s security code.

I shoved the door open hard enough that it slammed against the interior wall.

The scene inside made my blood boil.

Anna slumped on a velvet couch, her eyes half closed and unfocused. Pierre beside her, one arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand on her thigh, pushing up her dress.

She was trying to push him away, her movements weak and uncoordinated, like she was moving through water.

Her eyes were glassy, the pupils blown wide, drunk or worse.

Her phone sat on the table just out of her reach. My name was still visible on the screen from my last unanswered call.

Our eyes met across the room. Hers glazed and barely conscious Mine filled with murder.

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

Pierre’s head turned around. His expression shifted from surprise to shock as he registered who had just burst through his locked door.

His mouth opened, then closed, his hand freezing on Anna’s thigh.

“Roman? What are you doing here? This is my private…”

I didn’t think. I crossed the room in three strides, grabbed Pierre by the collar of his expensive suit, and yanked him off her.

He stumbled backward, his arms flailing for balance, and I drove my fist into his face. The crack of cartilage was satisfying. He hit the ground hard, his body sprawling across the floor.

“Roman, what the fuck?” Pierre’s voice came out nasally, his hand going to his bleeding nose. Blood streamed between his fingers, dripping onto his white shirt.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“You fucking depraved bastard!” The words ripped out of me.

“I can explain. It’s not what you think. She wanted…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

I turned away from him and went to Anna. She was stumbling, aching for the edge of a table to steady herself, her legs

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Chapter 177

barely supporting her weight.

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I caught her before she could fall, my hands gripping her arms, readying her against me.

I lifted her face toward mine, my fingers tilting her chin up. “Are you alright?”

Her eyes struggled to focus on me, her gaze sliding past my face before finding it again.

Recognition flashed across her features, slow and hazy, like she was trying to see through fog.

“Oh my God… Roman?” Her voice was slurred. “How… how did you…”

“I’ll always protect you.” I pushed the hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear, then pulled her into my arms.

My hands moved over her shoulders, down her sides, checking for bruises, marks, anything that would tell me what that bastard had done. “Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head, the movement sluggish and uncoordinated. “No… but…”

She lifted one hand, pointing toward the table where several glasses sat, some empty, some half full. “He… just kept pushing me to drink. Wouldn’t stop. Every time I said no, he’d…”

Rage flooded through me. I tilted her face up again, my thumb brushing her cheekbone as I examined her eyes more closely. Dilated pupils and an unfocused gaze. The glassy sheen that came from more than alcohol.

“That fucking psycho drugged you.”

Pierre’s voice strained from behind me, the words nasally through his broken nose. “Roman, this might be your club, but you don’t have the right to interrupt my time with my guest. I paid for this room. I have every right to…”

I whipped around to face him, my eyes narrowing. “Anna, give me a moment.”

I snapped my fingers at Elliot. He stepped forward immediately, his expression carefully neutral, and I transferred Anna to him.

She clutched at my arm, her fingers weak but insistent.

“Roman, please don’t leave me. Where are you going?”

I pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment, breathing in the scent of her hair beneath the alcohol and perfume. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

I turned and charged toward Pierre.

He was getting to his feet, one hand wiping blood from his nose the other braced against the wall for support.

“How do you even know her? She’s Laurent’s friend, not yours. What gives you the right to…”

I stepped toward him and spoke in the kind of tone that made grown men reconsider their life choices.

“I’m going to ask you one question, and you’re going to give me the truth. Or I’m going to break every bone in your body, one at a time, and make sure you spend the rest of your miserable life pissing through a tube. What did you do to Anna?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His eyes darted past me, looking for an exit.

He backed up a step. I advanced, matching his movement.

“She’s Laurent’s friend. I was just being nice, offering her a drink She accepted. That’s all. I don’t know why you’re…”

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Another step back. Another step forward. I was a predator, and he was prey that had just realized how badly he’d miscalculated.

“I’ll try one last time.” My voice dropped even lower, taking on a quality that made the temperature in the room seem to plummet. “What did you do to Anna?”

“Nothing! She… she kept drinking. I tried to stop her, but she came onto me. She wanted…”

I was more than disgusted.

The panic in his eyes. The way his gaze kept darting around the oom, looking for an exit, for help, for anything. Every door was blocked by my guards. The room had been cleared of other guests. Just us.

Anna would never come onto him. Never. Not this pathetic excuse for a man. This forty something nepo man child who’d never worked a day in his life, who preyed on young women because no one his own age would tolerate him.

This psycho who thought money and privilege gave him the right to drug women in my club.

“Wrong fucking answer.” I moved forward, closing the distance between us. “Let’s see what it takes to make you talk.”

Pierre backed into the table, trapped. His spine hit the edge, glasses rattling. He looked left, then right, searching for a way

out. There wasn’t one.

“Roman, please, just listen…”

I grabbed him by the throat and slammed him onto the table. Glasses shattered, liquid splashing across the polished wood.

Then I hit him. My fist connected with his jaw and my knuckles split his lip.

I felt his nose crunch a second time under my fist. Each blow landled with satisfaction.

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