m begging you. Please, just leave my mother out of this. She's not well. This could kill

med to inflate Bradford's ego. A crue

ur knees. Right here. Pour a glass of champagne for me and Cinda, and tell e

lit up with m

ce a low caress of power, "and I'

enge. It was about utter a

deeply uncomfortable, muttered, "Br

a look that sile

Isabelle. If you were truly sorry, you'd show some real remorse.

rembled, a war raging within her. Kneel, and her mother might b

"Why?" she asked, her voice hollow. "Why does it

to strike a nerve. H

hat you are nothing without me! I'm proving that you

ded core of it all. His pride. He ne

ever going to help her. He was only going to d

ying calm washed over her. The despair had burned aw

t get on

reached out and picked up a tall, flute

oured it. Slowly, deliberately, letting the cold, bubbling liquid run over his perfe

r voice chillingly calm, "to t

ther glass and turned to a shrieking Cinda,

for you,

landed with a sharp crack that echoed the fin

iliated couple, she turned and walked out of t

release. Ten years of her life, ten years of love and compromise and hope,

g her empty and lost. What now? Her mother was still

hing in her pocket, brushed a

oyd's busi

eeing the hotel, some primal instinct for survival must have made her reach in

under the streetlights. One path led to certain ruin with Bradf

o choice le

er phone and dialed the number. It was an invitation

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