Bound By Revenge: His Unwilling Wife

tion. Not that Kingsley was trying to talk. He had his noise-canceling headphones on,

kyline faded, replaced by the dark, churning Atl

e stepped out, dragging her small suitcase. Kingsley didn't offer to help. He strod

s a fortress of concrete and g

ff waited at

an said. The butler. He looked

ngsley said, not stopping

e. Not Cassidy. A label

White walls, grey furniture, abstract art that looked like violent s

Wing, madam," the butler said

er. Separation. She

rom the staircase. He turned, looking down at

er blink

warmth. "Separate rooms would invite gossip. The staf

andle of her suitcase

tract," he interrup

as a sil

y sat at the head; Cassidy sat at the foot, miles away.

Kingsley asked suddenly, no

My father's? The l

ngsley said casually. "He stole fr

t the plate. "He made mistakes. But he never utilize

He dabbed his mouth with a

e. He stopped behind her chair. He placed his hands on the arms of h

desperation? You shattered my trust six years ago. You

ck of the chair, trying to put inches

lies for t

. "I have a video confe

us room with a half-eaten meal and a heart that

smelled like him-sandalwood and starch. The be

oked out at the black ocean. A flash

ame

is prison, the w