Jilted By Nephew, Claimed By King

on the shower, cranking the handle until the water was scalding.

clear glass, but the frames were heavy enough to obscure her cheekbones. Her skin looked sallow,

eathe," she

n, were a piercing, icy blue. She pumped a handfu

ke freckles dissolved. The contouring that ma

ne, high cheekbones, lips that were naturally full and red. It was a face that had graced

o peel back, revealing the truth beneath. Her body was a map of violence. A jagged white line on her ribs from a knife fight in Prague. A circular pucker on her thigh from a bullet in Sudan. And

sed her eyes, letting the tension bleed out of her. For a moment, she wasn't Annelise

AS

the main room sh

sposable razor from the shower caddy. She snapped the plastic he

off the wat

A low, masculin

ucking the end securely over her chest. She kept the razor

rancesco's v

into the fold of the towel at her waist. She unlocke

he called

t in one hand, his other hand braced against the wall. His skin was pale, sweat beading o

up as the

ir clung to her neck. Her skin was flushed pink from the hea

esco

he had rescued from the fire was gone. In her place was a siren. The hu

bone, disappearing into the white terry cloth. He felt a jolt

upils dilate. She saw the confusion

d let her guard

hest, hunching her shoulders to hide her posture. She forced a blush

e squeaked, turn

lized he was shirtless in a bathroom doorway with his ward. He

gher than usual. "I... I needed the a

e me a minute," A

lose. Too close. He had seen too much. Not just the beauty, but the body. A body like hers didn't

e careful. Francesco Lancaster wasn't just a rich boy. He was a

n. He ran a hand through his hair. The image of her

hell w