Falling For My Cold Billionaire Captor

e dark, violent storm of Hunter's eyes. Her own

r help?" she laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "You kidnapped me! You th

d, placing both hands on the back of the sofa, effectively caging her b

, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "

ent. "You're all the same," she spat. "You Mcintoshes think

d handprint blooming on her pale cheek, and the small cu

m him suddenly fractured. He s

ed out a pristine white silk handkerchief. Without a word, he r

ed to jerk her head back, but Hunter's large hand clamped down on her shoulder,

rs of neat whiskey into a glass, and downed it in one fluid motion. He gripped the edge of the bar, his knuck

ll turned, his voice returning to its freezing baseli

red dollars an hour by a PR firm to be a plus-one. I needed the

scanned her face, searching for a lie. He

on the door br

rge paper bag bearing the logo of a high-end designer bou

eported smoothly. "Dax Adler's accounts are

a curt nod

d left, the heavy door c

medical-grade bruising ointment and tossed it onto the glass

ed. He pointed to the designer bag. "

ldn't understand this man. One second he looked ready to strangle her, and th

and stood up, her legs shaking slightly. She walked toward the mas

hrough the air, cold and detached, "leave.

urn around. "Gladly," she whispered, and s

sing his mind. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey, took a long pull directly f

the bathroom. She was wearing a simple

was comple

next to it, neatly folded, was Hunter's bespoke su

gering scent of cedar and tobacco rose from the fabric, making her heart skip a st

sed the main elevators, finding the heavy metal door marked 'Staff Exit'. She pushed it ope