Betrayed By My Husband, Loved By A Tycoon

cheeks felt like they belonged to someone else. "Good evening, Mr. Barrett. I ap

walked up to a man in a corner booth and offered him a revenge affair. Ho

not. I

chin. His thumb dragged along the edge of her jaw as he withdrew his hand. A casual, deliberate motio

Picked up his whiskey. Drank. Wat

he leather was slick under her fingers. She s

nd seems bu

he seat. Her hand grippi

don Jimenez. I saw him slip upstairs about thirty minutes ago

precise. He knew. He knew everything

ill screaming at her to walk away. The anger was back, hotter than the gin, hotter th

orward. Her blouse shifted sl

ss." She tilted her head. "Are you afraid of them, Mr. B

pt playing somewhere in the distance. Glasses clinked at

rrett l

It was short and low and

forward, fast and silent, and suddenly his face was i

barely a murmur, the words brushing against her ear like a physical touch. "Your marr

s back we

e was normal. The separate bedrooms. The cold shoulders at dinner parties. She had made herself believe it.

ad. Her spine. She pulled herself

know anythi

nd produced a slim black business card, its edges gilded in matte gold. He

proposition too," he said. "When the divorce gets expensive, you'll need a good salary to pay for all those fees

sten sat frozen in the booth, the card glinting under the bar lights, h

ning of her clutch like a splinter she couldn't dig out. Her face in the mirrored elevator panel was to

rs opened onto t

the breathless edge sanded off, back to the bright social chirp Christen had heard

arm was linked through Brendon's. Her burgun

self and rushed forward. "We've been

throat. There was a mark there, pink and ne

Her voice came out steady. That sur

s hand reached for the small

ing. The kind of small adjustment a woman makes when

ung in the air.

," Christen said.