Beneath His Wrath

ws drawn tight as she watched Georgia Vance tuck t

t into the lion's den," Georgia replied, her voice cri

ure met modern menace. Stark lines of black stone and cold glass stared back at her, silent and unwelco

d always surrounded himself with grandeur, with dang

th clockwork precision. Georgia stepped into the marble foyer, the polished f

by the walls, not by the whisp

o greet her. Of c

-voiced housekeeper with snow-white ha

staircase twisted like a serpent. The cha

she said, shouldering her p

then nodded and vanishe

from the upper landing, shadowed behind heavy curtains. His hands wer

was

d do it. Not really. N

in high, walking into his

't. Not

e looked li

ssed in

d itself through the corridors something soft and f

w her bedroom, eyes scanning the rows of polished w

in pri

was wa

ed. Empt

ension di

too thick. The

h, knowing full well Weston could hear

g to play games

he r

tings, books older than her entire bloodline, artifacts that hummed with family secret

s dif

ded. Just plain wo

lo

the handle

bud

something strange jus

an her fingers

and jagged, like a

or

the wood like a memory

s shot up

shifted. Like someon

e spun arou

id aloud, staring at her reflec

ing dress deep emerald silk that c

accurately, arranged. By whom? Sh

quests. He issued com

massive oak table set for two. A single candle flickered in

already

lar. Black suit molded to his frame

hose storm-gray eyes that had once hel

r seat acro

tretched like

spoke. "Yo

wat

lips. Almost

you'd throw

ssumed

the table. A war of will

wine, conversation that dan

laughter. Brie

first gala, the way she'd spi

, voice low. "You lied to the

y warming places in her ch

pau

et of

the table, finger

Contac

ck like she'

iolently against th

"Don't pretend this i

the corridor, his shadow swallo

n, hand still rea

nig

a maze of sigh

, wrapped in a silk robe that

maybe. Or evidence that Weston hadn't buried ever

door was

shed i

with use. A decanter of whiskey s

trailing over the leather blotter. Papers,

she s

ose stack of ledger

ed. Wasn't mea

as t

dies tangled beneath summer sun. She was la

hest

ge of the photo,

ldn't be

urned

shirt undone, no shoes, lik

been watching?" she

w curiosity's about

o. "Why keep it if y

se hate and want are close cous

le

er, closing the dist

ou know me,"

o," she w

e photo, his fing

racked wi

oice low. "Then stop digging f

d still, hea

m barely visible

t was

ere wa

had just m