they climbed the three flights of stairs, C

e asked, his

the way the light from the hallway window caught the sharp angle of his jaw. A w

. It was Victoria, her face flushed not just from the climb, but from the sheer adrenali

he peeling wallpaper and dim lighting of the hallway wi

his because I doubted your internet even worked in this slum. Your invitation. I would just love for you and your..

e. "I'm afraid my wife is busy that day," he said, his voice flat a

, and guided her inside, closing it firmly behin

hloe's mind. His defense of her, his quiet strength. It had felt

g in her ears. After what he'd done for her, it felt wrong to keep him at arm's length. Bu

to be

to the living room. He was sitting on the sofa, as he

she sai

head toward

ing the hem of her sleeve between her finge

wai

ing slightly. "And I'm so grateful for your help today. But... Brad... seeing

es. "So, I was wondering if... if we could wait. Before we... you know. B

hammered against her ribs. He had every right to be angry. He h

ment, he nodded. "Alright,"

e her knees buckle. "Thank you," she whispered, a genuine, heartfelt gratitude in her voice. She quickly returne

to initiate anything anyway; it wasn't part of the plan. But her honesty, her vuln

re incident, she was leaving a lunch at a five-star restaurant when she saw him again. "Leo." He was b

oubt flickered. But then she noticed a small, discreet "Executive

ne could rent a facade for an hour. And Chloe-pathetic, desperate Chloe-would believe anything. The woman was likely a high-end 'handler' or a relative he'd roped into the a

with real wealth lived there. No one with connections to King Moto

d. And Chloe was his willing accomplice, pretendi

le spread acr

nd everything on Chloe Hayes and her 'husband.' Bank records, employmen

prominent table, and then, in front of everyone who mattered, she would expos