Ruthless Desires
the space between them like an inv
d as Celeste's words
last person who tri
ound the folder, as if it were a shiel
k, her gaze drilling into Liana with
fused to
ction-denial, amusement, anything-but he simply l
y, he
ng dramatic
she knew more than she let on. She crossed her arms, her bl
to Liana. "Did he tell you a
accepting the job. Killian Vaughn was notoriousl
writer before her, th
last writer
ad. "No one knows. Is
m felt
im to refute the claim. But Vaughn didn't r
ply wa
nnerving than anyth
was an answe
s calm,. "Celeste,
"Of course. I wouldn't want to
d out, the faint scent of expens
t with an ee
easing the breath she hadn
n, her pulse still racing
vaguely irritated. "Celeste Laurent," h
s. "And who exactly
then sighed.
"Fiancée? Didn't take y
g the cuffs of his black dress shirt. "It was...
ear
hift in his tone. He wa
i
he wouldn't. .If he wanted to keep his secret
ick folder. "You said eve
t reading. We'll
walked out, leaving he
t, his ver
room that night, staring
t, the kind of silence t
tened-and now, she was locked inside a billionaire's estate, ta
ered if she should
that needed answers-was alre
, it was
thplace. Education. Ea
nt, the more the deta
o childhood records
tarted with private capital-
nts. No siblings. No relatives
onships, excep
s too
st a man guard
n who had era
question
ouldn't
the ceiling, the weight of the
out this fel
self. Her bare feet barely made a sound against the ha
he sanitized version o
to see th
ss-strategic security c
h of it c
by an off
r door
reached
lightly on
ope
kened as she s
or-to-ceiling windows overlooking the vast, moonlit estate
tention was the safe h
its kic
tive journalist. She knew how to find
gers grazing the edges.
-a stack of o
ed-then pic
e dulled by years of handling. It had once been a pristine memory, but now it
olled-as if he had already learned to mask his emotions. He wore a sharp black suit, tailored despite his still-growing frame. His hair, sligh
ncertain. Like they should have been doing something e
d another man-t
owerful men wore, the silk tie perfectly knotted, the cufflinks gleam
his
een burned out
ched. Not
rn
jagged black hole where his features should have been. The burn marks s
ted to simply remove the man. Th
ulder-a grip that seemed too firm, possessive-and the expensive signet ring
re you
a fr
rway, arms crossed. His
h
om, his presence suddenly i
voice was calm, but the
efusing to look guilt
ed to the phot
ift she barely saw it
ng the picture into his pocket. "Som
hard. "Who was
dn't
he turn
y private affa
osed to write
, but it
the version
his gaze, u
sn't s
n't just some self
ething beneat
ing to find ou
it kil