The Wall Street Tyrant's Fake Wife

The early autumn sun of Manhattan hit her face. The b

sive growl. Audrey Bishop, her best friend, sat in the driver's seat. Audrey sla

dropped into the low leather seat. She tossed the vintage c

the clasp of the tight pearl necklace. She ripped it off. The pearls clattered loudly agai

bun unraveled. Her thick, dark waves tumbled down over her shoulders. She ran her

the small cooler behind the seat, pulled out a chill

lips and tipped her head back. The icy liquid burned a path down her throat. The sharp carbon

The Porsche shot forward, merging aggressi

eeping her eyes on the

f bright red lipstick. She flipped down the sun visor and stared at her reflection. Sh

of trash stuck to his shoe," Jalynn said. She snapped th

ns is a dangerous man, Jalynn. If he ever finds out yo

e wind rushed into the cabin, whipping her

e of the wind. "As long as my father's life's wo

marked private club on the Upper East Side. A valet in a crisp

vet curtains into the dimly lit VIP lounge. Th

low, sensible heels. They hit the wall. She dropped onto the

martinis on the low glass table, and walked out.

he held it out. Audrey tapped her glass against

taking a sip. Her face turned serious. "So, h

emperature in Jalynn's eyes dropped. The re

d the stem threatened to sna

e teamed up with outsiders to bleed his own brother

board," Audrey warned. "He could launch

he table. A dangerous, sharp s

alynn said. The words tasted he

holes," Jalynn continued. "I'm going to use his tit

Deryl is going to let you use his n

d little wife at his family events. It doesn't say a damn th

able. The screen lit up with a new me

he words. Her stomach dropped, and then

rought his lawyers. They are forc

ing. She grabbed her black leather jacket from t

er voice was deadly quiet. "I'm going home

rom the table. "I'm driving.

t hit the thick red carpet with heavy, determined st