The Coldhearted Surgeon's Billionaire Revenge

wo beats

left wrist. The pulse was steady, rhythmic, a biological metro

arting ride-share sedan. It was a calculated choice-efficient, anonymous. The dark vehicle looked like a b

lew up, not to brush it away, but to cover the back of her neck. It was a phantom s

ed her h

h and bone, calibrated by ninety-hour work weeks and th

ng. Inhale for four. Hold

eading to the security checkpoint. The sound

er suit that strained at the shoulders. He didn't lo

chosen it specifically for that reason. A ghost from a past they all wanted to fo

ipboard. He held an iPad, his finger hoveri

lair,"

inical, detached, the way she announced

ain. His brow furrowed, creating a

"Not seeing it on th

omeone clicked their tongue against the roof of their mo

climb up her spine. It cente

st," she said. "Under the V

e lack of jewelry, the sensible clutch, the way she stood wit

o the bottom

, tapping the gl

ed the ve

e cool night air to the climate-controlled i

ssive. It bounced off diamond necklaces and champagne fl

ent-a blend of imported peonies, heavy musk co

endly faces. She scanned it for t

f crystal flutes. The bubbles ros

agne,

d. "Water. Spa

. She needed to be able to suture a vessel at a moment's notice,

d the periphery of the room, her b

ntage point,

He wore a tuxedo that fit him with the precision of a second skin. He was laughing at

knew that look. It was the smile he prac

saw the han

ery curve. Her hand wasn't just resting on Bentley's bicep; it was anchored there.

. Jealousy was a useless emotion, a waste o

the room like a radar dish, seeking ou

dar st

polished parquet floo

ut it froze. The corners of her mouth twitched

he flat, unreadable expression she used w

whispered somethin

n around, his movement sharp and ungrace

ace. It wasn't the pale of s

eople followed their gaze. Whispers

that

Blair

she was in

p into her bloodstream. Her

water. The bubbl

didn't turn toward the exit.

straight