Framed By Betrayal: Billionaire's Possessive Contract

gers wrapped so tightly around the stem of her champagne flute that the glass felt warm against her skin. The Wall Street annual charity gala

s ago. He had insisted this event was crucial for his image at Logan Group, and he wante

roat felt like sandpaper. She reached out, swapping her half-emp

expected, with a sharp, bitter edge that lingered on the back of her tongue. She swallowed

in her lower belly, spreading with terrifying speed through her veins. Her skin prickled, suddenly too sensitive agains

e had barely finished one glass. This wasn't alcoh

ted from her brain, as if they were filled with wet concrete. The room t

es dropping immediately to the neckline of her dress. His hand landed on her wai

violently. She shoved at his chest with wha

she was going, she just needed out. She needed air. She stumbled through a servic

splashing over the rim and soaking the hem of her dress. She didn't st

zed that the antique brooch pinned to her dress-a gift she had thoughtlessly worn tonight-contained a micro-tracker, and that the man hunting her h

collapsed onto the leather sofa, her body folding in on itself. The heat was unbearable now, a pulsing, demanding thing that made he

haze. The metallic sni

r mouth to scream, to yell for help, but her vocal cords were

harsh hallway light. The scent of pine and rain rolled into the room, overpowerin

r chest. The man stopped right in front of her, his towering form blocking out the

Dark, piercing eyes. The face that graced the cover

she was okay. He didn't call for a doctor. He dropped to one knee in front of he

against her mouth. He tilted her head left, then right, his gaze

ore, the word a

ie loose, the silk hissing as it slid from his collar. The control in h

to speak. He leaned down and

as claiming. His lips were hard and demanding, forcing her mo

operate. The heat in her blood surged toward him, a moth to a flame. Instead of

k of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair and holding her in place. He

ng the tanned, muscled plane of his chest. He moved with a frantic urgency, but every motion

ked the whisper of fabric hitting the floor. The dar

leasure. Haylie's hands found his bare shoulders, her nails digging

nst her ear, his voice a wrec

s gone. The billionaire was gone. There was only the man holding her, con

st the windows. Chester didn't move away. He shifted, pulling her body tight against hi

gaze fixed on the door. His eyes were cold, w

rushing the shell of her ear. "

e, dragged Haylie down into t

casting a pale blue glow on the carpet. A notification from Steel