ardens of Sterling Manor. Isabel snipped a ros

ned to

e soft. "How are the divorc

ind. Gwen, just a short while ago, her eyes red-rimmed, her voice shaking

he words, but at the finality in her to

had kept their marriage secret, bound by an NDA, to protect the company. Or so he

ignited a cold, possessive fury. It was that fury that fueled his indifference. That

the memo

t his phone and sent a curt message to his legal tea

found a reason not to sign. He told himself it was about maintaining the upper hand-letting Gwen stew in uncertainty. But a deeper, unacknowledged part of him

ing a public spectacle of his reunion with Isabel while Gwen was still, legally, his wife. She realized then that he would never grant her a clean break. If he wanted a public spectacle, she would give him one. Her network located

club's impenetrable security was designed and managed by her organization, The 'W' Collective. Inside, the lounge was a den of hushed luxury. Dim lighting, plush

man named Clarice Sinclair squealed. "A

glance at Damien a

wirled the amber liquid in his

ulations

eep breath, smoothed down her simple black dress,

e began

polished floor. Heads turn

riumphant s

mask of indifference slipped. Somet

ble and, without a word, placed the crisp white

loud, but it cut th

like a grenade. "You have a moment? I

ice g

ained from Is

restless energy, Tristan Sinclair, who had been about to leave, stop

, under the dim ligh