the feet of his snow leopard, Ghost

in his arms-just wet clothes, cold skin, and the

oward the lights of the mansion hidden

foreign after the river's chill. She su

nst smooth sheets. The blanket over her was too soft,

ed her e

enormous. Through the wall of glass, the ni

e remembered fall

. In its place hung a man's black silk s

g, and ran her hands over herself-arms, ribs, legs. Scr

thought cut through th

cold marble floor against her b

where she was, find he

or and tried the han

ped into a silent hallway. She fo

d filled with priceless art. It was a jarring contrast to the wild, unta

ered through a half-open door-a man's l

the shadows just outside.

. The man fr

over in his fingers with idle precision.

t looked painted on, her voice straining toward

you have any idea what I went through to get he

ught I made myself clear, Ms. Kowalski. M

past life, followed by the image of a socialite clawing her way tow

e that. My father, Victor Kowalski, has always been keen to d

u should be in Washington, speaking to my subordinates. And if you're here represen

was sp

he legendary, untouchable heir to the

is head, ice-blue eyes sl

e found her instantly, his stare cutti

lse slamme

past her thighs, too large and too revealing, bu

lousy and hostility. "Who are you? What are you do

ny, his gaze locked o

ed calmly at Desmond. "Thank you for saving

d forward. "Miss, I had the female staff a

accepting th

oe and went rigid. Her fingers tightened on

f whiskey from the table and swayed toward Desmond. "Do

es tracked

ck of Tiffany's finger, a faint dusting

opped. Every

st like she did at the

ed into place, c