The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

nding, throbbing white that pulsed behind

sterile. It didn't smell like her lavender deterge

s snapp

ate molding that blurred as a fresh wave of nausea rolled through her

arp, pierced throu

down. She

er chin. Her breath hitched in her throat, jagged

rous to touch. The charity gala. The flashing lights. Her step-sister, Cathie,

isha. You l

ess. And n

or handle turning

athroom, carrying the scent o

road shoulders and a chest defined by hard, lean muscle.

er. He didn't look surpr

wielding it like a shield. "Stay back

ping it back from a face that was unfairly symmetrical. High cheekbone

e was deep, a low rumble that vib

ere shaking so hard the pillow wobbled. "Did Gret

completely ignoring her makeshift weapon, and picked up a watch

There, sitting next to a crystal lamp, w

omach

The air left her lungs.

ed his face-something between amusement and calculation. He didn't deny it.

nk I'm a

e y

s head. "Doe

this was a transaction. A setup. Gretta had staged this per

eyes. She blinked them back furiously.

y clothes?"

ting a long finger tow

vintage piece from her mother-was torn at

s, her movements frantic and clumsy. Every second s

bric as she struggled with the zipper. "I don

aid dryly. "Check

rous sound erupted

Knock

! We know you

visible even from the bed. The muffled shouts of

you spent the nig

s way for

er dress strap. The blood drained from

hispered. "She actual

noyance seemed to sharpen into something more

opular,"

ic. She looked around the room. It was a penthouse su

ice trembling, "my life is over. The

r in her eyes, the way her knuckles turned wh

was a heavy, r

abbing her arm. His grip

she y

d a side door she hadn't noticed. It was

her insi

are

et door, plunging

e wood, her heart hammering agai

inic pick up

he lazy drawl of a morning-after lover anymore. It was

pa

single camera left in five minutes, I'm

en to an escort? Maybe he was a very high-end

boots in the hallway, the complaints

set doo

r a second. Dominic stood there,

s clear,

purse. She felt small. Dirty. An

y she dropped a credit card. She ignored it and pulle

he bills at

down to the car

, trying to regain some shred of digni

ked up at her, a slow, crooked smile spreadin

mused. "That barely

ng toward the door. "Don't spend i

d ran. She di

r of the suite. He bent down and

the sound l

ide table, picked up his p

bout a woman named Aisha Bartlett. And can