No Longer His Captive Surgeon Wife

ven o'cloc

a faded cotton t-shirt, aggressively rubbing a towel through her wet hair, t

one suddenly vibrated violently. The

it up and s

m's executive assistant filled her ear. "Mr. Grah

he window, and pulled bac

, gleaming black Lincoln Navigator. It looked like a

ll," Amy said flatly,

day," the assistant said quickly, dropping the b

the phone. The plastic cas

bleeding knee, looking at her with those desperate bl

e towel onto the sofa, grabbed her trench

d into the suffocating, leathe

aving the gritty streets behind and entering the pri

. The space was a monument to cold, hard wealth-acres o

hair, rushed forward. His face was lined with genuine dis

slightly. "The young master has locked himse

under Amy's skin. A brutal reminder that sh

of professional indifference. "I am a cardiac s

eps sounded

unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His eyes were bloodshot, ringed w

"Go up there and look at him," Beckham said, his voice hoarse and desperate, stripp

rowed in deep suspicion at this

e heavy scent of tobacco and m

ck in his iron facade. "Are you going to le

e her freedom, Amy marched past him, her slippers slapping against the hard oak stairs as she c

astic cracking sound of toys

and turned the brass doorkn

f expensive picture books and shattered Le

evin was curled into a tight ball, hold

one step in

vy plastic Transformer and hurle

inch and shattering against the doorframe. His face turned

ced her hand flat against Beckham's hard che

voice low and absolute. "D

uld crack. But he looked past her at the trembling boy

d behind her back, grabbed the doorknob, and

hoed in the room, sealing her inside wi