The Contract Wife: Thorne's Redemption

felt like a

s visit, helped me. She found me a set of discarded scrubs that hung off my frame and

al. Every sound was magnified-the distant wail of a siren, the hiss of tires on wet asphalt, the frantic thumping of my own heart. I clu

badly I could barely sign my name on the access slip. The clerk, a young man named David with bored eyes, didn't seem to notice.

ed black velvet, was a single, thick vellum envelope sealed with dark red

a mixture of fear and ad

was archaic, a formal legal language that was difficult to parse. Bu

, Clara

ame that made the bre

an T

cally reclusive CEO of Thorne Industries. He was a phantom in the world of Veridia's elite, a man whose empir

lly binding document I held in my t

g their firstborn grandchildren. It was a relic from another era, a dynastic alliance meant

ream of.* The sheer audacity of it, the medieval strangeness of it, was stag

ght felt harsh, abrasive. The city was waking up, the streets filling with people who had normal l

when I

icuous, but their focus was too sharp, their stillness too predatory. One of them lifted a phone t

. My legs started moving before

wet pavement. I shoved past people, ignoring their angry shouts. The scrubs were a

lace they would look. A hotel required an ID and a credit card, both of whi

a glance over my shoulder. They were closer now, movin

he edges of my panic. They were going to catch me. They were going to drag me back, and Mark would m

I s

rd of obsidian, a monument to power and amb

ne place in all of Veridia that Mark couldn't easily touch. It was the

indswept plaza towards the gleaming glass and steel entranc

he soaring, three-story ceiling. A massive, abstract sculpture of bronze and steel dominated the center of the space. The air smelled of money, clean and ster

ld hair, my panicked breathing-it all brought t

th a stern face, moved to intercept me i

ian Thorne," I gas

"I'm sure you do. You and everyo

hasing me were at the doors now, momentarily

iled over into a

AN TH

ead turned. Every conversation stopped. The sile

ace hardened. "Tha

hand. I held it up, the thick vellum shaking. "

the air. I could see the pity and disbelief on the fa

en, a

ople standing near the grand, floating staircase at

their gaz

d in a suit so perfectly cut it looked like a second skin. Even from this distance, the power radiating from

c cheekbones, a strong jaw, and dark hair. But it was his eyes that held me captive. They were a startling, icy grey, and they were loc

my future in his hands. And his icy gaze