ella

The penthouse was suffocatingly quiet. On the low table beside the bed sat an ice bucket with

hadn't

k and turbulent. To him, my desperate kiss last night was nothing but a calculated ploy-a caged bird's pathetic attempt to lower her captor's guar

crimson silk sheets an

hand shot out, his grip like an iron vice around my wrist. "What game are yo

my weight, and gently guided his large, calloused hand toward my face. I pressed my lips

murmured, my voice trembling sli

my face for the lie, for the hidden dagger. He slowly released my wrist, though the rigid set of hi

f coffee, her eyes downcast, her hands trembling visibly under Damien's oppressive presenc

'. Damien's ch

nd murmured low enough that only Damien was meant to hear. B

bby. He's demanding to see you re

would shatter. The memory of the speakeasy cellar, the poison burning in my veins, and Julian's treac

scle ticked in his cheek. He mistook my lethal hatred for a lover'

ting a lethal, chilling aura as he prepa

ated, setting the cup down

beat, his large hand coming up to grip the back of my neck. His thumb brushed r

d, a lethal threat lacing his tone. "You

ht the Don of the Castillo family never feared showing off his spoils." I stepped a fraction of an inch closer, my chest alm