er, the scent of wealth and safety enveloping her. For the first time in what felt like a lif

traffic. Preston passed her a bottle of

," he explained, his gaze sharp an

ears of financial records on both Beaumont Holdings and the Kensington Group. Sh

He would smother her with concern, and she

told Preston, her voice firm. "A presid

black Rolls-Royce Phantom glided to a stop in the adjacent l

ed her head, a

art st

f the man in the bac

tocratic, a study in controlled power. It was his eyes that held her captive. They were

tor's p

rp, went through her, a memory from

en T

egend spoken with fear and awe. A ghost who could topple markets with a single phone ca

is expression, only a quiet, intense scrutiny, as if he were reading the very depths of her soul. For a fleeting moment, she saw a flicker of something

e was a viper; Damien was a dragon. She broke eye contact first, her hand instinctively hitting th

t the feeling of being watched lingered like a cold h

e, spoke in a low voice. "Sir, that was Seraphina Beau

tion the Bentley had gone, his long, elegant fingers t

ole asked, sensing his em

eptible curve touched Damien's lips, a hint of something dark and intriguing.

ured the presidential suite, a sprawling expanse of luxur

ust escaped one cage, Preston. I need

ck, unmarked business card before he left. "

ll comfort. The silence was a luxury, a balm to her frayed nerves. She crossed the ro

e saw was Damien Thorne's, his dangerous, knowing eyes burning