His Cold Revenge, A Hidden Love

e Fry

tment, waving a letter in the air. He was laughing,

Callie, it

e, her face pale with confu

's been paid off! And he's arranged a n

n up, representing an anonymous ben

er face. "I knew it! I knew he still loved you, Callie! He

affic crawl by. My family was saved. The weight of the

below. The driver, a man I didn't recognize,

going back to my life of luxury, to be cherished and adored by a husband who secretly love

ing heart of Manhattan. It pulled up in front of the familiar,

ile, now looked at me with a mixture of pity and curios

ed directly into th

ight. She was tall, slender, with hair the color of spun gold and eyes the colo

arm, genuine smile that was comp

ice soft and melodious. "I'm Astrid Ri

ould have been. She wasn't jealous? She wasn't angry that he

thing was just as I had left it. My clothes were still in the clos

st my skin. It was all gone, yet here it was. I was home, yet

"Miss Fry? Mr. Chandler requ

his right hand. They looked like a king and queen. I hesitated, unsure of wh

front of me. Out of habit, the habit of a lifetime of being served

g gaze, and Astrid's look of polite confusion. The heat rose in

, pushing my chair back. "I thin

commanded, hi

fr

owards Astrid's glass. "Ast

and filled a crystal glass with water, my movements sti

Callie," she

wn, my own pl

ly, then looked at Astrid. "Darling, you l

fingers were clumsy, that I always made a mess. He used to do it for me, patiently separa

moved my chair beside Astrid's, took the small silver fork, and began the humiliating

e, maybe the king's reign of terror would be less severe. How long would this last? A month? A year? Su

napkin on the table. "

ked out of the room

bewildered. "Did I

e unreadable. A small, enigmatic smile

. "I've never u

, he came

, pretending to be asleep. I heard him move around th

id, my voice muffled by the

ng to say. For three years, he

e rumbled in his chest. "I think you're confusin

is body caging mine. The wei

pleaded, my voi

ed, his lips brushing against my ea

urning my face away. "She's yo

He leaned down, his voice a harsh whisper. "Do you want me to g

my throat. Anything to make this sto

a master of passive aggression, a man who had honed his resentment into a razor-sharp edge over three long years. The gentle,

evoid of any tenderness. It was a violation,

en sleep and waking, I heard him whisper. It was a lo

Why did it h