-

ovie stars. I have dressed women who have killed for

rvous about what to

. White is

on Central Park South - a room that cost $4,000 a night and that Alexander Knight's assistant had booked for

rse he

nothing. Thin straps, backless down to the very bottom of my spine, cut so close to the body it looked like it was painted on. No

ckles were visible. I had not covered them. My lips were red. Bl

d like

. Knight's car is downstairs. Black M

remembered. Cold, raining, beautiful, cruel. The sa

nted you couldn't see inside. A driver in a

er and a man's cologne - some

we going?

Ms. Laurent. 220 Centra

ica. I had read that Ken Griffin bought a penthouse there f

drive. We could have walked. But men like A

equired a fingerprint. It went straight

d directly into

got how t

Manhattan, Central Park glittering below like black diamonds. The furniture was all bla

nding by the fireplace with

nder

Journal. Blurry paparazzi photos of him lea

st year's rent in Paris. Dark hair, slightly too long, pushed back. A jaw that could cut glass. Eyes - gra

oked like he had already lived 100

eliberately, down my body. Down my neck, my chest where my nipples were visible through the

long sip o

p, with a faint New York accent, like he was trying

id. My voice was stead

e a wolf who knows the deer cannot run. "You look like you

h. M

Just a little. A terr

d gi

right by the window. There were candles. St

before reve

d. Not a suggestio

wanted to see w

ne. His hands were large, veins visibl

id. "The White Dress collect

? I didn'

ike front rows. Too many peop

Perfectly. Like

te stain covered in diamonds. That was your mother's dress, wasn

od wen

you kn

Isabella Cole. Or Laurent. W

folder across th

with chocolate on it, crying. Taken from a security camera. Me, landing at Charles de Gaulle with a tr

lking me,"

roperties owes my bank $47 million. He missed his last three payments. He is using your stepsister's we

d. His gray eyes

esign the dress, it will make his family look good again. He doesn't know you are his daughter. Chloe doesn't reco

w Chloe doesn't

oto of you. The Vogue cover. She said 'Oh

uldn't help it.

laugh. He just st

ing company. I own the flower company. I own her fiancé's father's company - Jake Morrison's father works for me too. One word from me, and h

urn?" I asked. Because men l

e. He stood behind my chair. I could f

my ear. His hand touched my shoulder,

asn't romantic. It was possessive. H

Marais. I saw a girl who was thrown away like trash turn herself into a queen w

the edge of my dr

hings. Let me ruin people for you. And in return, you will come to my bed whe

ing so loud I was s

ven know me,

throw it away. I know you touch your mother's pearls every night before you sleep - the real ones, not the fake

eyes. How doe

on you. I will not throw you out. I will be obsess

ces were inches apart. H

f I sa

atching you destroy people who hurt you. It's beautiful. But you

see a small scar on his l

es, Is

ace. I thought about my father slamming the door. I th

about be

id,

my waist - hard, possessive - and pulle

Now eat your steak. You will need your strength. Because tomorrow, we go to

five years, I felt safe. N

decided to stand next

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