idy

avy suitcase through the automatic glass doors of Silver Peak International Airport. A bitte

k, armored SUV bearing the silver c

out from behind the wheel. He didn't offer to take my bag; he s

, Mrs.

dirt. Biting the inside of my lip, I hauled the fifty-pound suitcase i

it the gas, the heavy vehicle roaring onto the highway toward the pri

and armed guard checkpoints, my fingers twisted tightly in the f

nce of the main mansion-the servants' drop-off. I schooled my featur

corridor. My low heels clicked against the stone floor, the crystal chandeliers ov

ase, a burst of high, breathy laughter drifted through

lla perfume hit my nose-a cheap herbal concoction used to fake

der against the wall and peered throu

ht red dress hiked up to her hips. On her right wrist, a hollow silver-filigree bracelet-f

ttle Omega of yours was landing today?" Cinnamon po

ollar open, his narrow amber wo

y mood?" he snapped, his han

g her head against his shoulder. "She still holds the legal mat

tive, wolfless piece of trash who can't even shift on a full moon. If the old man hadn't forced

reathe. I had known for years that my husband despised me, yet hearing him call m

for good?" Cinnamon pressed, her eyes gle

ive years," Dillan muttered, burying his face against her perfumed nec

giggle that scraped against

outh. Standing there in the dim hallway, the last, pathetic spark of guilt I

ge, then I owed him zero loyalty. From this mo

marble floor and deliberately brought my heel down ha

Clack

of my eye, I saw Dillan shove Cinnamon off his lap and

traight and my chin level, I rolled my suitcase right past the

h's backing to keep my father's hospital bills paid, so I headed straight thr

ere shut tight, but even from ten feet away, the

hand to knock on

ered against the stone wall inside with a deafening crash, followed i