loor. "I brought you soup," she said, her voice small.

at the thought of food. "I can't," she said softly. "I'll

unce. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, her thumbs flying across the screen w

creen into Kalea

le. Franco Preston was walking out of the revolving doors of the St. Regis Hotel. His hand w

alousy to hit. She waited for the heartbreak. Bu

g in anger. "While you were lying here with tubes down your

the bedside table and picked up he

Kalea's icy skin. "You know? That's it? Kalea, you have to dump him. Y

ure on that marriage license is worth three hundred million dollars to the Alexander Group. If I walk awa

Frida yelled, tears springing to her eye

aid, her voice

e the clutch. She pulled it

e phone. "Don't answ

eath, her posture straightening, her face smoothing

voice was steady, pleasant, the

the background noise of traffic and a car horn. "The traffic

m j

Kalea. Don't

ne wen

he looked at Frida and gav

ring curses under her breath. "He's a mon

torture devices. Her ankles wobbled, weak from dehydration and stress. She reached into her bag and pulled out a sm

ered, watching her. "W

paused, her hand on the metal

nowhere else t

lack of her heels echoing in the quiet corridor. She pressed the button for the lobby. The elevato

ight and busy. She walked out the autom

b, looking like a sleek, dark predator. The win

's personal chauffeur, stepped out and opene

n and slid int

sn't Franco's cologne. It was a sw

nie Spence

. The blue light of his phone illuminated his sharp jawline.

d them in. The air was thick with the scent of b