suffocating, humid heat that c

trial district. It looked like a spaceship that had crash-landed in a junkyard. Pedestrian

of denim overalls and a grey t-shirt, both smeared with faint streaks of grease and sawdust. She looked

e heavy rear door open. She threw herself into the backsea

nd immediately collid

Brunello Cucinelli cashmere polo that hugged his broad shoulders perfectly. He looke

sole, pulled out a sanitized w

on ordered softly. "You

ssively at her cheek. As she lowered her hand, her eyes caught s

wine, a humidor of Cuban cigars, and several ornat

d a trembling finger at the pil

mpty-handed," Cameron stated, adjusting the

reets here were incredibly narrow, lined with tightly packed, aging red brick rowhouses. The undercarriag

ed so hard a muscle

and parked it in front of a slightly run-down ho

andle. "Listen to me," she warned, looking Cameron dead in the eye. "Do not use y

to the uneven sidewalk. His tall, imposing figure looked entirely out of

nsive gifts, stacking them neatly on the small conc

her denim overalls. She reache

anked open alm

ng hair, wearing a plaid flannel shirt and a stained apron. In his rig

His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, scanning the billionaire from his perfectly styled hair d

wed hard. Panic seized her. Without thinking, she stepped closer to C

screamed at him to pull away. But he looked down at Aimee's white-knuck

ine, pushing his chest out slightly, allowing her to lean her weight

t the absurd pile of luxury gifts at their feet. H

Burt barked, s

t. The furniture was old and worn, but the hardwood floors were spotless. It was a space bur

feeling a strange, tigh

g the tongs at a faded floral sofa. He turned

lose, her breath ghosting over his ear. "Please," she wh

ing, sauce-slathered BBQ ribs. He slammed the platter down on the cheap coffee table. He

rrogatio

hat exactly do you do for a living, boy? And what gave you the

n interference, but Burt sil

tired lines around his eyes, and the fierce, undeniable love for

drooms. Instead, Cameron leaned forward, resting his forea

l icy arrogance. It was deep, steady, and incredibly respectful. "And I apologize fo

ng none, his rigid posture relaxed a fraction. He p

"Don't turn your nose

ith specialized silverware. He had severe germaphobia. She quic

t. With his bare hands, he p

realized that dealing with a man like Burt Berry required more than just polite, corporate detachment. It required a surrender of ego. He needed to drop a bomb