Trapped In The Billionaire's Gilded Cage

ry breath felt like s

, the sharp clicks echoing like gunshots in the empty corridor. She didn't dare look back. She did

the ventilation system. It wasn't a shout. It was worse. It

he was going back to that house. Bac

of the corridor swimming before her eyes. She had to

she s

impossibly broad across the shoulders, wearing a suit that probably cost more than her

er panic-fried brain. A dist

erate strides. Just as the man began to turn, sensing the commotion, she lost her footing on the slick marble, stumbling for

wall. His phone slipped from his hand, clattering against the marble

ket, pressing herself against him, and looked up, her voice a

igid tension in his body, the shock of the impact. But what terrified her was his heartbeat. It wa

y lowered his chin, his gaze dropping to where her tr

lly looked

n short-

ad been broken and reset with precision. But it was his eyes that stopped her heart. They were gray. Not the pale gray of a winter

ions it graced the financial pages. She had seen it across the room a

sn't a

o sound came out for a

all Street Saint.

hitting the opposite wall of the narrow corridor. Her entire body locked up. She had just

s she had brought to his quiet corner. I orchestrated a thousand scenarios for our f

of dark hair escaping her chignon and sticking to her damp temples. Her blue eyes were

finally picking up, just a fraction, in the presence of h

ents unhurried, and bent down to pick up his ruined phone. He turned t

loser now, right at the mouth of

e corner, then back at Hoyt. Her eyes were huge, pleading, desperate

url in his chest. My little bird needs a

of his mouth twitched upward. It wasn't a smile. It was the

hand her over. Of course he was. She had

men flanking him. He took a step toward h

ed his body so that he was standing directly between her and the security detail.

carried the weight of a closing vault door. "I believe t

shakily, and the scent hit her-clean, cold cedarwood, with a

stand. Why was h