Wall Street Boss: Pampering My Unexpected Wife

h. They ate in a tense silence. It was the fi

ining restaurant in Manhattan. The place was always full, and it

His long-fingered hands rolled up the sleeves, revealing his pale wris

t, so I had a few more items ordere

down, daring to pick up food only

is fingers, sighing slightly to hims

nk of her fork against the plate, th

is eyes on her from time to time, a cool, assessing gaze that made her feel less like a person and more

entrance, but at a discreet private exit. A black Maybach, sleek and silent as

in a series of complex spreadsheets, the glow of the screen reflecting in his gray eyes. He acted a

and turned to her. He held out a s

flat. "The Fosters could use it to contact you, or wor

ny the logic. It was a shockingly considerate

ng the Fosters, of course. My number is the first on t

e was handing her a key to a new life. A life where she was p

tudents stopped and stared, their phones immediately coming out to take pictures. Clara felt a hot blush cre

screen of his own phone. "Don't take much. Just the e

pus-shouting, laughter, music drifting from an open window-a jarri

om. Her two roommates, Chloe Sullivan and May

herself off her bed and threw her arms around

h concern. "Where were you last night? We called you a h

lt. The lies were already begin

thes from her closet and shove them inside. She focused on her textbooks, her

sweatshirt she always studied in, a framed photo of her and her roomm

ed, watching her with wide, con

ends were looking at her now, their initial relief replaced by a dawn

lump form in her throat. How could she possibly explain