hitting Debora directly in the eyes. She gasped, waking u

only clean professional outfit-a navy skirt suit that was two seasons out of date. However, using her meticulous skills, she had altered the seams so that

blanket on the sofa was folded with mil

oor. The loud, chaotic energy of Brooklyn swallowed her as she des

st Side. In front of her was a high-end bridal boutique, its large gla

with a felony on her record, she hoped her skills with a ne

ver bell chimed. The air inside was thick w

over Debora's resume. When her eyes hit the parole status, her lips thin

ate. "I'll take minimum wage. I'll stay in the bac

hoed from the front entrance. Several sales associates rush

lder. Her blood turned to ic

t and gold-rimmed glasses, was Darrell Poole. The man who had be

an dripping in diamonds, her chin tilt

iately ducked her head, stepping behind

w clipped a silver tray resting on a side table. A roll of exqu

isle. A sparkling Jimmy Choo stiletto s

at the lace under her heel with utter di

ist, playing the perfect, protective fiancé. He follo

r fingers reaching for the lace. She

s locked wit

ce shattered. His eyes widened in sheer

ll quickly leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Go

velvet curtains, the panic in Darrell'

nds. He grabbed Debora's upper arm, his fin

bora hissed, try

y through a side door and shoved her into

k wall. The impact knocked the breath out

trapping her. "What the hell are you doing here?" he snarled, his sp

as she fought through the pain in her

missive gesture. "Did you forget the NDA you signed? You're a piece of trash with a felony record. Y

bit into her palms until the skin broke. She stared at the man who