The Wrong Bride,The Right wife

urized silence. When the doors slid apart, they opened no

ass that muted the roar of Chicago into a dull hum. There were no warm touches, no soft edges

the sprawling master suite. I lingered at the elevator thresho

oice was casual, but the iron beneath it brooked no argument. "You'v

ilk loud against the polished stone. Marcus remained by the lift, his face an unreadabl

Clear the floor below. No i

s answered, and the meta

d with a heavy,

lone wi

ned to face me, rolling his black shirt sleeves up to his forearms with methodical precis

r exits. There are none. Every window on this level is reinforced ballistic glass. Every elevator requires reti

t efforts to steady them. "My father handed you a lie, and you let

heat radiating from his chest washed over my face. He smelled of rain, cedar, and raw dominance. "And you paid

brushing against the high lace

ct burned

ch back this

slipped the heavy, iron tailor's shears from Seraphina's vanity before being

ic

f the skyline. I brought the point up, stopping it

om wen

embled in my grip, heavy enough to strain my wrist, bu

ainst my ribs like a caged bird. "Take another step

didn't

skin where the blade hovered, didn't even accelerate. His grey

n't amusement; it was the quiet thrill of a wolf

. Heavy enough to do real damage if you know where to push. Is thi

e blunt edge dented his skin. A single bead of crimson welled at the point, vivid against his colla

ting from cold calculation

pping into a register that vibrated straight through the floo

top three buttons of his black shirt, parting the collar an

ng calm, he leaned

blade, forcing the steel point deeper against the hollow of

ng out the lights of the city behind him. "Push it through. S

p his fingers directly over mine on the handl

ight against my ear. "If you kill me, Marcus doesn't call an ambulance. He clears the penthouse, and

ine, squeezing until the iro

to me completely. Bo

ed tears of rage and helplessness. The weight of his hand

ldn't

or, and survivors didn't burn dow

rough my arms. M

I thought," D

ted his wrist, ripping the shears from my fingers wi

AN

wall, gouging the frame before

the floor. I let out a sharp cry as he spun me around and pinned my back flat agains

ne. With one hand, he reached up and wiped the thin smear of blood f

mine as his other hand found the zipper at the nape of m