ling windows of the master bedroom, casting har
a dull ache behind hi
jamas. She was wearing a sharp, tailored black busin
propping himself
d a thick manila folder down onto the mahogany ni
lous jewelry invoices she wanted him to pay since her cards were declin
Her voice was completely devoid
d up to her face, turning instantly hostile. He hated ultimatum
ce a smooth, icy blade. "The position of Mrs. Mont
ht. Don't get greedy. He wanted the wife f
reached out and pushed the folde
oss the cover were three words
ters. His pupils contracted violen
cruel smirk. He tossed the folder back
all the stops for attenti
ialite. Without her family trust and his black cards, she wouldn't su
't scream. S
he pulled out a heavy Montblanc fountain pen
r voice was so quiet, so terrify
unfamiliar wave of cold dread washed over him, an unwel
ay. The pen clattered
he snapped. He threw the blankets off, stood up
shower turned on, the rushing w
econd. A bitter, self-deprec
orce papers back into her bag. She turned around
phone. She dialed the number for the mo
receptionist, her tone strictly business. "I am
the massive, cold penthouse o
p navy suit. He adjusted his tie as he walked toward the dining room, exp
ng room
er favorite coats were gone. Her car
id stepped inside to deli
en interrupted him, his v
wed hard. "Sir... the tracker shows Mrs. Montgomery's Porsche
tly relaxed. A smug, arrog
ized she had pushed too far with the fake divorc
s. He stepped into the private elevator. H
/1/113769/coverbig.jpg?v=3dce4fe58daf3aaf5bbfc28c4923ec6f&imageMogr2/format/webp)