His Trophy Wife Is A Predator

h the floor-to-ceiling window

he long mahogany table. A flawless, tradition

d into a roasted tomato with the rigid, elegant posture

oors flew open wi

s wearing a custom haute couture dres

in bag onto the empt

are saying about us online?!" Ch

t a piece of tomato to her lips, chewing

ple. She marched right up

ng our family's reputation and y

placed her si

against the fine bone china

t Chelsea with the exhausted patien

smoothly, "did Caryn get he

drained from her face, re

e clinic downtown,

ut a soft,

ld a woman who claims to be carrying the heir of a multinational

r. Her fingers nervously twisted

est friends," she wh

ite linen napkin and dabbe

ce dropping into a lethal whisper. "She was only using you as

sea like a physica

he way Caryn always made sure they were in public when she cried,

e white. Her stomach twisted into

the girl. She calmly picked up her

ally, "is to force a public confrontation

chest bega

thing she hated more than anything in the world

table and pushed a glas

ink," Haze

glass. She stared at Ha

?" Chelsea asked, her voice

r tall chair. She looked

ne to use such vulgar, low-cla

family" hung h

. For a brief second, Chelsea felt a strange

together. She snatched he

d the door, her high heels stabbi

ched the doorway

ound. She kept her

elsea muttered

lsea stormed out of the villa

ain up to the sunlight, admiring the amber color of the

open. He couldn't believe the most explosive temper in th

head and met th

he commanded. "I have