Bound By Revenge: His Unwilling Wife

pty room. Her suitcase still hadn't been b

pajamas, shivering. She couldn't go downsta

dressing room door

. Rows of suits, shoes, and ties wer

dress shirt hanging in the back. It was

hanging past her hands. It smelled like him-clean, sha

o the bedr

ty, breathing hard from a run.

opped

hirt, the messy hair. For a second, the mask slipped.

a CEO. He looked l

" Cassidy stammered, pu

slow and predatory. He backed her up until he

her head, trapping her. The heat rad

e me, Mrs. Osborn?" he m

"It was force majeure.

brushing her skin. Her breath hitched. He leaned in, his gaze dr

nd coming up to push against his ch

s a bucket

s instantly crystallized into ice.

Don't you dare talk about professionalism whil

atch off his wrist and

off," he

nked, confu

. Take it

ot wearing anyth

th rage. "I don't want you wearing my clothes wh

ick her eyes. The hum

und," she

his back, his sh

fall to the floor, standing there in her underwear, exposed and shi

," she ch

nto the bathroom a

as if a fist had just punched