e fabric was plush, swallowing her slender frame. The master suite was cavernous-minimalist de

is knees. The wind from the ocean whipped at his white d

sitated, then slid one open. "Do we...?"

r, his gaze clinical. "We are married, Hester. But I don't force things

sh light of the chandelier, he noticed something. H

did t

g on her upper arm, shaped like four fingers. It was from whe

be tighter, cover

are Mrs. Rhodes now," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Your body i

d her. But as he turned to the bedside table and retrieved

oser. "Arm,"

of menthol. His touch was surprisingly gentle. He rubbed the salve into the bruise with slow, circular motions. He didn't look at

tionally. Haywood had never noticed her bruises; he had only caused them. Isham's fingers paused for a fraction

u," she w

"Sleep," he said, pointing to th

will yo

d the sprawling leather sectional in

watched Isham settle onto the couch, opening his laptop again

e, the sound of shattering porce

vase-fake, like everything else i

r wrists. "We're bleeding money! The investors are p

. "I tried to DM her to tell her

o me. We control the narrative. If she won't t

ow

idea. "We say the 'Mystery Walk' was a breakdown. That she hijacked the sh

g across her face. "And drugs," she added. "S

That was a career-e

she's toxic, no agency will touch her. She'l

cked up his phone and dialed

mer model Hester Irwin has a p