One Night With The Disguised Tycoon

r the dazzling chandeliers of the Manhattan Crystal Palace Hotel ballroom, her vision blurred

using to sign the marriage contract her adoptive father had already laid out on the table. And this was their

lver trays stepped into her path, blocking the main doors. Breathing heavily, she veered into a di

Bertram Langley, the sixty-year-old political ty

he picked up her pace, lunging at the

restroom. She slammed the deadbolt shut, her spin

he marble counters. Bracing her hands on the sink, Gabrielle lifted her head. Through the

or. His head was bowed as he wiped down a black pistol fitted with a s

er elbow knocked a glass soa

the tiles, the sound echoin

blue-gray eyes cut through the shadow

med it straight between her eyebrows.

t o

She bit down hard on her lower lip until the metallic taste of blood

corridor outside, followed by a

ley is very worried abo

d back at the armed stranger. Trapped between a pack of w

wrapped around his right wrist pulled tight as his gr

he grabbed his gun-wielding wrist with both hands. The feveris

to throw her off, but a muffled voice crac

might be hiding in the wome

d shot out and clamped around her jaw. His rough thumb du

the words out through the pain, her voice ca

his sharp features wild

n the same boat now

as the bodyguards jammed a crowbar into t

ting her half off the floor. He dragged her into t

rielle's nose pressed into the hard muscle of his chest, fi

y boots stomped across the tiles as bright fl

ike a volcano. A scorching heat climbed up her spine. Her

knees to prop her up, while his lar

is palm, brushing against his skin a

. The black leather tips of a bodyguard's shoes

d, shoving hard against the stall

gers clawing into the shirt over the man'

il his thin lips brushe

eathed, his voice a b

at him in disbelief, her flushed cheeks

id down her back and pinched the curve