The CEO's Runaway Cinderella Returns

. Isabelle Dominguez swirled the last of her Martini, the ice cubes clinking against the glass like a ti

nt chatter of the project kickoff party. "So, give it to me st

. She smirked, the alcohol making her bold, her tongue loose

shoulder. "Shh! Isabelle, walls have ears. The guy prac

her feel invincible. "He's just a suit with a trust fund. What does a guy like that know about

ound slightly too loud. "He's eye candy, maybe. Bu

ke of a lighter wheel. Isabelle's spine went rigid. It was a primal instinct, the fe

g the stale cologne and perfume of the other partygoers. It hit her respiratory system like a phy

y adeq

um. It came from directly behind her. Isabelle spun around, her heel catch

ssing into her skin with a force that felt like it could crush bo

ray-blue eyes. Her lungs simply stopped working. T

ng match to the memory that haunted her darkest nights. The man from the charity gala five years ago.

ay. It was clinical, assessing, and entirely too intimate. The corner of his mouth ticke

soft, almost gentle, but the words hit Isabe

er hands, the pin already pulled. She forced herself to look away from those eyes, her fingers curling ar

to keep her voice level, to inject a professional distance into the tr

e was trapped between the low terrace railing and the solid wal

e, pausing on a tiny mole right below her left collarbone. It was a spot he had kis

of her blazer closed. She tried to cover the skin, t

wed, a subtle shift in his jaw that looked like he was

d, completely devoid of warmth. It was the

he interior broke the suffocating spell. Isabelle seized the opening

face. She just turned and walked away as

ack of a wrought-iron chair. She didn't stop to untangle i

thud of her own heartbeat drowning out the party n

lass doors. Slowly, he raised his hand. His long, elegant fingers-the ones that had just gripped her elbow-