the bedside table g

o her racing thoughts. Sleep was a foreign concept. Every time she closed her eyes, she didn't see the safety of her old apartment or the smiling faces of her fami

the mattre

back against a wall of hard, radiating muscle. Marcus didn't speak. He simply pulled her flush against hi

is morning voice thick with sl

he didn't try to pull away from his grip. In the dark, wrapped in the terrifying warmth of

g a slow, deliberate circle against her h

rs decide I'm a liability, or until whoever killed her d

. In the dark, his hand tightened fractionall

fine art and quiet evenings. They don't know what you saw in that vault, and they won't find out unless you give them a reason to look." He paused, his lips brus

the pillow, frowning in the dim l

her jaw, turning her face toward his in the shadows. "Every investor, political player, and corporate vulture in the country will

ya realized, her breath catching

ith a dangerous, calculating intensity. "And I want to show them that

nd expensive tailoring. Flashbulbs popped continuously near the entrance as Lagos’s elite posed for th

gh the double doors, the ambient n

encrusted choker that sparkled under the lights. Her short, gold-dyed natural hair was styled in a sleek, sophi

nce in a charcoal bespoke tuxedo, his hand resting

oth enough for the surrounding cameras while carrying a comma

into Marcus's side. To anyone watching, they were the picture-perfect billionaire power

l, impeccably dressed man with sharp silver-streaked h

and, his gaze sliding past Marcus to settle on Maya with a lingering, predatory appraisal. "I heard rumors of a wedd

. Her father's former corporate rivalâ€"the man who had systematically destroyed her f

ing rigid beside her. The air between the two men turned instantly toxic, thick with a si

d chill. "If you're here to talk business, speak to my corporate offi