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Escaping The Billionaire's Ten Million Dollar Debt

Escaping The Billionaire's Ten Million Dollar Debt

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Chapter 1

Word Count: 1430    |    Released on: Today at 12:48

like a wall-thick, suffocating, clinging to the back of her throat. She navigated the haze with practiced

side, her movements fluid and silent, and refilled his glass with Macallan 18. She didn't need to ask. After seven years, she knew his

cles that dealt in weapons and fear. His eyes weren't admiring; they were appraising, like a butcher sizing up a cut

ned, long ago, that prey that d

chips with an absentminded grace that belied the millions of dollars at stake. He was her owner. The man who, seven years ago, had pai

lock nurses, the machines that breathed for him ever since he'd become a permanent resident of that twilight world between

d never repay, a chain

d his cards onto the green felt. "This is getting bor

dealer to continue. The dismissal was so complet

gerous person in any room, and who had just been reminded that tonight, he wasn't. He gestured with his c

ike it had been seized by a cold, tight fist. Her breath caught in her throat. She looked at Julian, a desperate, silent plea

ething more than a transaction. That the way he touched her in the dark, the

Victor. His face was a mask of indifference. "She's not a gift,"

reassure her. The

an to hear. The distinction was meaningless. A gift, property-it was all the

perty, then. Even better. A man should be willing to risk his asset

ched those eyes-the eyes she had spent seven years learning to read-and found nothing. No conflict. No hesit

ck of prime real estate. Her stomach churned. She knew what h

another asset on

whisper. It was the only excuse she could think of to escape the suff

shut behind her, she nearly broke into a run. In the hushed corridor, she leaned against the cool marble wal

ice entrance, two waiters

s about to be announced. To the Beaumont-V

st to the sternum. A knife between the ribs. Manhattan royalty. A woman sculpted

she had told herself-that she was special, that he cared for her in his own broken way, that one d

aceholder. An amusement. A convenient, well-trained body to warm his be

that silence in her nightmares. The moment her little brother's body went still and the world stopped turning. She had thought her life was over. Then Julian had appeared, a

her jailer for a savior. She had fallen in love with the man

t was just a slower, m

swirling vortex of despair. This is the last time, she told herself. Just

ile of his perfect assistant. The mask. The one she wore so well that even she sometimes forgot i

eady underway. J

the sound of something dying. The last ember of hope, the final foolish dream-extinguished.

s were dealt. The tension in the room was thick enough to taste. Stella watched the

dden and dangerous. Maybe being

something-a shadow of a smirk-crossed his lip

of chips into the cente

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