Chapter 270 I Have No Interest in Women Like You

Phillip Kingston's POV:

We were trapped. Susan's men blocked the rear exit while more of Astor's mercenaries intercepted us from the front. The ornate corridor of the hotel had transformed from a symbol of luxury into a battlefield. Marble floors that usually reflected soft chandelier light now mirrored muzzle flashes.

I calculated our odds with the same cold precision I'd apply to a high-stakes merger. The math wasn't favorable.

Griffin and our security team scanned for options as I kept Serena sheltered behind me. My tailored suit jacket felt inadequate protection, but I'd die before letting harm come to her.

"Don't be stubborn, Mr. Kingston," Susan called out, her automatic weapon held with surprising familiarity. "Come out now, and perhaps we can still negotiate terms."

Her voice carried that particular cadence I'd heard countless times in boardrooms—the falsely reasonable tone of someone who believes they've already won. I knew better. The Astors wouldn't risk an American billionaire's death on English soil, but Serena was a different matter. An unfortunate casualty, easily explained away.

That thought awakened something primal within me.

I glanced back at Serena. Though her expression remained composed, I could see fear flickering in her emerald eyes. Yet she hadn't panicked. Her quiet strength only reinforced what I already knew: she was extraordinary.

"We need to move," I whispered to Griffin, checking my handgun. Six rounds. Not enough. "I'll draw their fire. Griffin, when there's an opening, take Serena and get out."

"Understood, sir," Griffin nodded, looking warily toward the rear guards.

I quickly sent one final message to Thornton requesting immediate backup, then felt Serena's hand grip my arm. The concern in her eyes spoke volumes—not fear for herself, but for me.

"Trust me," I said quietly, and she nodded with such faith that it felt like both blessing and burden.

Two of Thornton's security personnel suddenly burst into the corridor, creating the diversion we needed. Gunfire erupted, deafeningly loud in the enclosed space. The crystal chandelier above shattered, raining glass shards across the marble floor.

"Griffin, now!" I commanded, taking aim to provide cover fire.

Griffin responded instantly. "Move!" he ordered Serena, shielding her with his body as they began to advance.

I fired several shots toward Susan, forcing her to take cover behind an ornate column. The precision I'd maintained in countless shooting ranges served me well now.

"Get in here! Everyone! Dead or alive, I don't care—just get them!" Susan screamed at her men, her composed facade cracking.

Enemy fire intensified. Griffin exchanged several shots with Susan's men before kicking over a decorative flower stand for cover. Expensive Manhattan orchids scattered across the floor, their pristine white petals soon stained with blood.

My gun clicked empty. Without hesitation, I grabbed a bronze sculpture from a nearby pedestal and charged forward, striking Susan hard enough to disorient her. As she stumbled, I seized her weapon and tossed it to Griffin.

"Catch!" I called out.

Griffin caught the weapon deftly, immediately using it to drive back the approaching guards.

Weaponless now, Susan lunged at me with surprising skill, her movements suggesting professional combat training. We exchanged several blows, her attacks precise and practiced. This was no pampered socialite—she moved like someone who'd spent years perfecting the art of violence.

She stepped back, her expression shifting to practiced seductiveness.

"Mr. Kingston, why not consider me instead?" she purred, wiping blood from her lip. "Look at your girlfriend—so fragile, needing protection. If I were your woman, I wouldn't need protection. I would fight alongside you. A woman like me is what you deserve."

The suggestion almost made me laugh. As if Serena's value could be reduced to combat skill. As if her compassion, intelligence, and integrity were somehow less worthy than this woman's capacity for violence.

"I have no interest in women like you," I replied coldly, monitoring Griffin's progress in my peripheral vision.

She laughed bitterly. "Mr. Kingston, you seem to know me so well? Have you seen my body? Don't judge what you haven't experienced."

Behind her façade, I detected calculation. She was playing for time, following some directive beyond mere attraction.

"Is that an invitation?" I asked, buying time as Griffin secured our escape route.

"If you'd like," she smiled suggestively, "we could go upstairs right now. Danger makes everything more... exciting, doesn't it?"

I kept my expression impassive, watching her eyes. This wasn't attraction—she was executing a strategy.

"Let's go then," she said suddenly, moving toward the elevator. "No need to waste time."

In that moment, her mask slipped completely. Fury flashed across her face as she struck out with a high kick that I narrowly avoided. Her movements confirmed my suspicion—she'd had extensive combat training. This was no ordinary heiress playing at danger.

Behind her performance, I glimpsed her actual mission: Capture Kingston's woman. Her father's orders, undoubtedly. Astor wanted leverage, and he thought Serena would provide it.

He wasn't wrong. For Serena, I would indeed negotiate—but he'd miscalculated how far I'd go to prevent that scenario from occurring.

Susan grabbed a broken decorative railing and swung it toward my head. "Let go of me!" she screamed, all pretense abandoned.

I caught the makeshift weapon and twisted it from her grasp, throwing her against a glass display case. The shattering glass cut into her waist, and her expression contorted with rage.

"Get that woman!" she shouted to her men. "Ten thousand dollars to whoever catches her!"

In that moment, something shifted inside me. The controlled, strategic defender became something colder, more lethal. No one—not the Astor family, not anyone—would threaten Serena and walk away unscathed.

Griffin had cleared a path to the exit, ushering Serena toward the black Range Rover waiting outside. I broke away from Susan and followed, providing rear cover as mercenaries, driven by the promise of reward, pursued us with renewed vigor.

Gunfire, breaking glass, and shouts echoed through the once-pristine lobby as we made our final push. Griffin got Serena safely to the vehicle while Thornton's reinforcements laid down covering fire.