y's

the warmth radiating off him. His voice was a low, priva

he murmured, a mischievous

ebrow, trying to ignore

tage. "Well, I was originally tagging along

e in a way that was both intimidating and... protective. Not like Nicholas, who

ushing the thought away

diamonds on the bracelet catch t

le touched his lips. "Ms. Sinclair," he said, his voice s

ned, trying to decipher his e

y obvious. If anyone was watching, they would absolutely think

t," he whispered, "f

alled. Token of love? Return gift? Was he

uh

s gaze fixed on something over

urn

om, finally free from the stage. The spotlights were off

his hands into his pockets, trying to make a quick exit t

meras extended like weapons, cut hi

is it true? Did Miss Sinclair really cancel the engage

t true she canceled because she ne

st damage control? We all know your massive reputation with women, Mr. Anderson. People are saying you were going to marry Erina Sinclai

't help

ago, he was on stage, crying like a pro

answer, he was completely stuck. He looked lik

e nearest camera lens. He was regrou

tter what happens, or no matter how confused she is right now, I want to say this." He paused,

my wide-brimmed hat and dark sunglas

y shoulders and yanked me against his side, tucking me into his shadow so my face was practically buried in his

ooked straight into the camera

it. I'll wait until you're ready. We'll get that marriage license, and I w

t him again? Like he was

ough of his lies, his perf

sunglasses. I pu

m off me, and took two deliberate steps forward, emergin

las An

was clear and cold, and it cut

r, every single head in that lobby-includin