mmon enough that she thinks I married a glorified bouncer. Just be

ai

has seen the marriage certificate. She has seen the army of men. But the human brain is remarkab

s off the damp walls as Jackson prepares to slide the b

wondering if we can really hide the fact that Alistair is a billionaire. Jackson looks away from the scre

orning kicking down the doors of a two-bit factory owner? It's a common name. My boss is

culous as the excuse sounds, she believes him, and I'm sure my parents do too. At this point, they are ready

t vanish, but it is joined by something familiar: a poisonous, simmering resentment. Now that I think about it, Chloe has always had a

her mind, I am still the loser who has settled for a man who works for a livi

ams into place, and Al

says without

ocked up for three days without food or water. I still feel like all this might be a dream. Alistair coming to save me, punish

ow, Emily. You

lly explain. His eyes still have that stone-cold look, but at the same time, it makes me feel safe. Like no one can harm me as l

o get you checked. Try not to be

ompared to the tomb I just left. The leather is buttery soft, and the air is filtered to a crisp perfection. I take more deep breaths while sitting in the back seat, wrapped in his

know exactly whose muscle brought me in. After an hour of scans and blood tests, the verdict comes back. The baby is

home and more like a fortress made for a royal family. The Wolfe villa sits on a cliffside, overlooking the churning Atlantic. It is

cessary furniture like a porch swing, no bright colors, not even those expensive paintings rich people like to keep i

orway of the living room, his silhouette sharp against the moonlight streami

a painting on the far wall. "The staff has been instructed on your

and then immediately put me back into a different kind of

dip and he

thank me, Emily. I didn't do it for you. You're the vessel for my heir.

is footsteps echoing on th

," I whisper to h

d it for the baby or not, he still saved me. He took me out of that dark storage room and

to be. The one who lived in a house full of laughter before the cancer took my mother. I remember the way the light changed in the Vance estate after Lydia moved in. It was like a slow-moving eclipse. My father's affection

romises were iron. The infidelity was a blade, but the betrayal, the way he and Chloe talked about me like I was a chore to be completed, wa

tly. The Emily Vance who believed in lighthouses died in that storage room. The one who survived i

Jackson enters, carrying a batter

says, setting it on the bench at the foot of t

ere?" I ask,

ouch

dig through the layers of silk and denim until my fingers hit something hard and familiar. I pull out a thick, l

died, and I've spent the years since teaching myself the rest. Tucked beside the notebook is a small, hand-painted metal case. I open it, and the scent of dried

a long, shaky breath. As long as I have the

er to the empty room. "For me. And for

he fate of many businessmen, and I am left to roam the glass halls of the villa. I use the time to heal. I apply my own salves

ird day, the front door

jacket and tossing it onto a chair. He looks tired, his hair slightly mussed, but his presence is still as overwhelming as a storm front. He walks towar

His voice isn't cold, but it is

ing,"

. Actually, he doesn't grab me per se. He simply tucks two fingers under my chin and tilts my head back, for

face. He looks at my lip, then my cheek, his gaze lingering on the places where the bruises have

my throat, trapped by the sheer gravity of him. He is leaning in closer, his fac

he plann