e. He had expected her to cry, to beg, to cause a dramatic scene that would validate his ego. Instead, her calm, surgical detach

out instinctively, desperately trying to g

her heel and marched down the sweeping gravel driveway, her spine

es tracked Emaline's retreating figure with a dark, unreadable intensity. He leaned casually against the stone

rbearing, status-obsessed sister-hurried out the heavy oak front

anicured, dismissive hand in Emaline's direction. "Let's focus on actual business. I've been meaning to ta

ced her mid-sentence. He didn't offer a single word of explanation or apology. He simply dropped his cigarette, crushed

at the empty driveway where Emaline had just walked. "If it weren't fo

Emaline was out of the picture, but seeing the sheer, raw masculinity and untouchable power radiating from Abdiel, she temporarily forgot Alastair even existed. Abdiel was a god a

ality. She had no money, no fiancé, and her mother's life was hanging by a terrifyingly thin thread in the ICU at Presbyterian Hospital. The medical bills were piling up into a mount

at the curb, its engine purring with suppressed, aggressive power. The tin

red, his voice br

ed, not breaking her stride, keep

Emaline, before I get out and make a scene," he warned, his voice dr

oulder in the middle of Madison Avenue, she yanked the heavy dihe

she asked, crossing