The CEO's Trap: Reclaiming His Runaway Wife

d open the stall doo

fabric, trying to smooth it out, trying to smooth out the nausea churning in he

ir of the men's restroom a shock against her flushed sk

icy stream. The cold shot up her wrists, a welcome s

r gaze drifting to the va

caught in

figure in a perfectly tailored black s

met hers in t

It was him. Graves Hammond. The man she would recog

to flee seizing her. But her legs,

ands with a brisk, efficient motion, and took a singl

er. Alena took an involuntary step back, her spine hitting th

le

ered, rougher, with a tremor she cou

actured a smile-flawless, bright, and utterly devoid of warmth. "Mr

a physical blow. His gaze darken

fer? Should I call you darling? We divorced five years ago. I assume a

than most people's homes, glinted under the harsh bathroom lights. It was a

k with a regret that was five years too late.

was gasoline on a fire of resent

n on her ring finger, a ghost of a promise he had broken. "An apology? If apologies fixed everyt

for you for five years," he said, step

ack as if she'd been stun

voice sharp and final.

was a terrifying, familiar thing. "What new life?

s for the taking, made her stomach churn agai

le back on her face. "Mr. Hammond, yo

silence hang

mar

muscle in his face froze. The storm in his ey

he asked, his voic

pression, a small, bitter ta

n destroying someone else's family, so I'd

n, every word a pe

tary paralysis, ducking under h

le glance back, the sharp click-clack of her

drip of a faucet and the blood roaring in his ears. His eyes, fixed on t