ella

ry m

g the duvet tighter against my chest. "Are you insane?" I spat, my voice dripping with all the aristocra

om stone as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out

moan filled the qu

ights of the night before, was me. Tangled in the sheets against the floor-to-ceil

u won't just be Julian Falcone's discarded bride. You will be a dis

ken engagement was a scandal; a sex tape with a subordinate was a death sentence to

ccounts, and the fifty-million-dollar breach of contract hung over my head like a guillotine. I needed a husband

n standing over me

enience. In public, you remain my bodyguard. You follow my orders. After

k eyes locked on

demanded, trying to claw bac

N

ing again. "You're doing this for the

" He leaned in, his massive frame pressing me further into the mattress, the scent of mint and danger overwhelming my sens

te; it was a punishing, possessive claim that tasted of absolute dominance. He devou

ed at my mouth, his thumb brushing my lower lip. "You were my first," he murmu

ound his pride and reestablish the hierarchy. "And how exactly will you pay for t

aped over the armchair, pulled out a sleek leather wall

rs. No bank logo. A Centurion Card. An invitatio

y leaving my lungs. A bodyguard didn't carry a

ng no room for negotiation. "My judge is wa

turned his back on my shock and walk