The Ruined Heiress and Her Ruthless Monster

nt pounding that synced perfectly with the nausea rolling in her stomach. She tried to open her eyes, but the sun

i

crisp and cool. This was slippery, warm, and smelled like sa

iliar. Charcoal gray walls, abstract art that probably cost more than a small isla

sheet slid down her c

ke

ng against her ribs like a trapped bird. Memories of last night were a blur of neon lights, the stinging taste of tequila, and the humil

click

pulling her knees

ir in the corner of the room. He hadn't just wal

t looked like it had never known a wrinkle, and a dark tie. He held a tablet in one ha

ce was a deep rumble, devoid of morning grit, perfectly modulat

oozing slightly. She looked back up at him, her face

gh to cut glass. He stood up, placing the tablet on the side table with a deliberate click

't breathe, and you vomited in my foyer plant. I didn't 'do' anything to you except prevent y

his back to her. "My housekeeper

perate need to go somewhere, anywhere that wasn't the empty apartment she shared with Hunter. An

staring out at the city.

e was, how he looked at her like she was a stain on his immacul

his was a transaction. Everythi

abbed her checkbook. She found a pen on the floor. W

check out and tossed it onto the mahogany nightstan

nding on the check. Then, he looked at her. T

ming over her, blocking out the sun. Vivian sh

o long fingers, studying it like it was a piece o

ured. "Is that the going rate for

lip quivered. "It's more than you d

eck. He folded it, slowly, meticulously, into a tiny

Vivian. I want you gone. Y

er face. She could smell the mint of his toothpaste and the cold,

athing. His proxim

pered. "Before I have

s cufflinks, and walked out of

bed, her legs wobbling. She found her dress from last night-a red Valentino go

ing with the zipper. She couldn'

quickly to the elevator, her bare feet making no sound on the cold marble. She saw no

her foot impatiently. When the doors

flection in the polished metal doors. She looked like a disaste

ot a

teady. She wiped the smudge from under her eyes, not to clean it, but to artfully blur it. She ran her fingers through her ha

d own the narrative. She wasn't the crying ex-

opened to

as

light explode

s it true Hunter i

d you spend the night

ors true about the e

f them. Paparazzi. They were swarming the lobby entra

her eyes just enough to look coy, not scared

the torn hem of her dress. She stumbled, gasping as

d yelled, shoving

ting taxi, the door slamming shut

ed out to the dri

ilhouette standing in the floor-to-ceiling window of the pent

d. It was Margo

to the estate. It's bad, Viv.

er thumb hovering over the cra