/1/118360/coverbig.jpg?v=8ebf6edbe5550182eec5b08fdf15f1d9)
Are
as a raw whisper, her throat s
Enough to see the mess. A tuxedo jacket draped over an armchai
She was in a hotel room. An exp
oke and something mus
w, silhouetted against dawn breaking over Ce
low, gravelly. He wasn't c
t. This wasn't just a mis
Heat crept up her neck. "I know
ke. His dark eyes were sharp, clear-no hangover h
throbbed-the residue of whatever had be
rg Businessweek. The cover. The chiseled profile.
me," she accused, her
a long shadow. He moved
ed yourself around my ne
wly, deliberately, he pushed it back up her
," he murmured. "S
poured her a glass
g power. But when she reached out to take the cup, his fingers touched hers, and in that very brief moment, hi
n, sending a wave of stimulation. She drank, and the water could barely calm th
sinessweek. The headline: The King Returns: Juli
ood ra
. A gossip blog notification: Serena Pruitt,
ighteen years-stolen as an infant, replaced by Liana, the ado
d to g
. Torn at the shoulder. Zipper broken. With a frustrated sigh, she grabbed a silk ribbon
her agent, Jenna: You're biting you
enched. She hadn
e bit down on the inside of her cheek, she saw
he asked. "N
er fear, leaving only pu
ford my appearan
the door, head high. Her ha
shifted. She didn't look back. S
tched in her hand. From the open doorway behind her, sh
Smudged mascara. A dress held together by a prayer. All
ruthless titan of Wall Street. And the uncle of her fiancé, Austin Ca
he garage. Rain hammer
aper fell out-sheet music. A Chopin nocturne she'd been pr
mond necklace from her throat-a gift from the Pruit
shut. Her hands gripped t
hought surfaced as sh
alled he
he whispered her name? Did h

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