The Captive Runaway Wife Of The Billionaire

ense silence. She retreated as far into the plush leather seat as she could

lpable entity that pressed in on them from all sides. He revved the engine aggr

d of heading back toward the familiar lights of Manhattan,

Cayla watched the road signs flash p

her stomach. "Where are you taking

on the steering wheel. "Your apartment is a security

d to face him. "You can't do that! I haven't p

elongings. They will be delivered to the house tomorrow morning." He paused, then delivered the final, crushing blow. "And

le of his control was breathtaking. He hadn't just married her; he had consumed her

arguing. There was no point in screaming. He had thought of everything. She was

tricately designed and impossibly high, blocked their path. They swung open silently, revealing a sprawling, fortress-like oceanfront estate. It was beautiful

veway and tossed the keys to a waiting va

reeze hit her face, whipping her hair around, b

with a sweeping staircase and a glittering chandelier. A man in a perfectly

aking it sound less like an introduction and more like the a

. "Mrs. Kensington is not to leave the estate grounds. Under any circumstances. She is not to have any v

butler, Alfred Price, replied,

rmy of maids and groundskeepers, subtly averted their eyes, pretending n

I have a crisis at the fund," he said,

another glance in her direction, leaving her standing a

the master suite. It was larger than her entire previous apartmen

ext to a custom mahogany wardrobe. The contrast was jarr

The physical and emotional exhaustion of the past two day

. The sharp, electronic sound was an

known number. But the snarky, vicious tone w

n't get lonely. Did he tell you Serena is

s she read the toxic words over and over again. So that was

up before she could e

gets the trust fund. A pretty littl

self-deprecating laugh. The tears finally came then, hot a

uilt for her. She wasn't just a placeholder. She was a prisoner, locked away so he could be free to welcome hi