biting chill of the Manhattan night. The wind whipped her hair across her face. S

tires hitting a pothole and sending a spray

a sleek, black Maybach glided silently out of the

as sitting in the back seat. His jaw was clenched tight, and h

o see him. She grabbed the handle of her suitcase, turned on

he barked at his driver. The heavy door swung open. Hamilton stepped o

hand shot out and clamped down on her slender wrist. H

ht backward to break his hold. But the difference in their physical str

s voice a low, dangerous rumble. He towered over her,

tuxedo shirt. "Was the charity gala fun?

quickly smoothed his expression into mild irritation. "It

sneer. "Is the baby growing in C

tire body went rigid. The hand holding her

ly recovered, his tone turning urgent. "That is a business arrangement.

e used his moment of distraction to violently yank her wrist free. She

nto his eyes. "I will never be your dirty little sec

treet. "If you walk away from me right now," he warned, his voice dropping an octav

"I left your black card on the vanity.

ming to grab her by the shoulders and phy

ed her weight. She lifted her right leg and drove the hard heel of her an

tching his lower leg, his eyes wide with absolute shoc

suitcase and sprinted toward the intersection

g her suitcase onto the floorboards. She dove into

took two steps toward the car. He slammed his

smudged glass. "Drive," she yell

The taxi lurched forward, leaving Hamilton standing i

cked vinyl seat. The adrenaline was slowly drai

p. The screen loaded to show her current balance:

illing her nose. "Change of plans," she told the driver.

time, it was a voicemail. She pressed it to her ear and heard Hamilton's voice, low and veno