Lyra: the Billionaire's stolen wife

her fate-not with in

-

elegant. Crisp.

No love. No lie

... no

eight of the Blackthorn name pressing into her lungs like a s

brought them here. A billionaire's mercy wasn't free. And Darian Blacktho

ed the pe

became Lyr

roperty

idn't flinch. Didn't smil

Possessive. Like he was already undressing her with h

. Blackthorn," he murmured, hi

-

was no

mus

ange of name

marble floors that cost more than her father's annual salary. She stood beside him, her heart a hummingb

n't to

n't ha

eeped from ever

-

f black glass. Fireplaces carved from volcanic s

enter of it

d jacket, rolling up his sleeves with a slow, delibera

essed and ready for appearances. No scandal. No late-night

. "Is this a marriage

ot into a smile-in

how well y

, but her thighs cl

help

hreats feel l

-

Every room she passed whispered secrets-his secrets. Locked drawers. Black-and-wh

n-the l

old books and

lace, her fingers brushing over the spine of a poetry book. She

res

the air. Heat b

n... hi

eone who reads poetry," Da

chest. "And I didn't take you for some

irt half-unbuttoned, exposing a slice

sneak.

eath c

o close.

ing was against the

t fantasy can be dangerous when y

es away now, the fire thro

n paper," she said, "

, Lyra... you have no

is fingers slid beneath her

f from shock,

er lower lip. "So

at roared i

ch me," sh

oice betr

't resi

as n

e said, voice low, danger

wh

s brushing her cheek

an. Anyti

nished-leaving the fire a

-

one hand between her thighs, trembling, furious at herself as he

hate

anted

eathe without t

of a speakeasy in Florence, a man with haunted blue

an in

billionaire with

," Rafael De Luca murmured, s

elongs