“Prologue Isla knew this was a mistake. She had spent years resisting Damian Sinclair, keeping her distance, pretending the attraction between them wasn't suffocating. But now, standing in his penthouse with the city lights glowing behind them, she knew there was no turning back. His gaze burned into her, dark and unreadable. He leaned against the bar, his tailored suit still pristine despite the chaos she felt inside. "You shouldn't be here," he murmured, his voice a slow, deliberate temptation. "I know," she whispered. Yet she didn't move. Neither did he. Instead, he pushed off the bar and stalked toward her, each step unraveling what little control she had left. He stopped just inches away, his heat wrapping around her, his scent-dark spice and something purely him-making her dizzy. "Tell me to stop." His fingers brushed against her wrist, tracing a path of fire. "Tell me this is wrong." Isla opened her mouth, but no words came. Because they both knew the truth. It was wrong. It was reckless. And it was inevitable. Damian tilted her chin up, his breath ghosting over her lips, waiting for her to push him away. But she didn't. Because tonight, she wasn't going to fight it.”