My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret

Hartm

e stale whiskey a

unfamiliar weight of Egyptian cotton sheets. This wasn't my room. The ai

up, clutching the duvet to my chest, and the mov

th a lethal kind of strength that my husband, Joshua, had never possessed. But it was his back that made my bre

have I

Joshua ignoring me for his phone. The whiskey I shouldn't have touched. The stranger with eyes l

dress was a puddle of shame on the floor. I snatched it up

re he woke up. Before Joshua

clutch on the nig

a notepad. Embossed in the thick,

ldw

ecimated mine, the family that held me captive in a loveless, political marriage. If Joshua found out, I would be punished. If *The

wasn't Joshua. He was too big, to

e he never looked for me. I had to

I had in cash. I pulled a pen from the nightstand-a heavy Montblanc that

rvice. Keep

uce a night of earth-shattering passion into a cheap exchange. If he thought I was just

swallowed the sound of my bare feet as I fled the penthouse, escaping the c

y Cald

, and the silence of

e morning after a woman stayed over-which was rare-my skin crawled. My senses, always dialed up to a mad

lence. A heavy, velvet quiet that

s an a

plagued me was gone, replaced by a strange, hollow hunger. I wanted her back in th

fted to the

er glass. A piece of paper fluttered sligh

ching out to s

rvice. Keep

cal blow. The air in the room

growl. She thought I was a whore? Me? The man who hel

me three hu

. The insult burned, hot and bright, but beneath it, something darker

ould use me, pay

ernal phone and dia

ard's voice wa

rom the last ten minutes, I ordered, my voice a jagge

a probl

the bed, the indent of her bod

dangerously. "But t

he predator f

takes, Clay. Find her