y in the eyes. She groaned, every muscle in her body screaming in protest. Her back ached, her hip

re skin. The other side of the massive bed was empty. A fa

e raw, unrestrained power. A hot blush crept up her neck, a mortify

men's dress shirt. She grabbed it, the fine cotton cool against her heated skin. It smelled of him-that clea

o get out

as just a transaction, that she was the one in control. Rummaging t

scrawled: Good techn

to her name and tucked it under the note on the nightsta

ly adjusted the collar of his borrowed suit, while Colette clutched a leather-bound business proposal, her expression a

suit-Damian's chief o

oice sickeningly sweet. "Is my fath

Mr. Pacheco is not seeing anyone," he said, his tone leav

mark. Colette'

owel slung low on his hips, droplets of water clinging to the hard pl

ty-dollar bill tucked beneath it. He stopped. A strange sound escaped hi

searching for her shoes by th

stop directly behind her. She could feel the heat rad

shrill voice pierced through the thick door.

ng the dots in a panicked, illogical frenzy. Was Colette here to se

ad to

opened a shoe closet she hadn't even noticed. He pulled out a pair of brand-ne

de Wall Street tremb

hoe on. Gwendolyn stared down at the top of his dark, damp hea

m her face. He gestured towards a discreet door she hadn'

ulling it open and scrambling inside. As the doors slid shut, she saw him stan

ished from his face. It was replaced by

main doors and wr

ion, their faces a mixture of shock

sing him in an instant as if he were somet

" he said to his assistant

e sound echoing down the