The Disgraced Heiress's Deal With The Devil

Silas Thorne sat sprawled on the leather banquette, flan

s lit up with a greasy, ravenous hunger. He w

ord, the heavy door clicking shut behind th

distance as possible. The bass of the club's music vibrated thro

usually like a chase. But your father practically begged on his knees to keep his stepdaug

glass roughly

well with tears, feigning absolute terro

ately jerked her hand. The liquor splashed all

moving closer to him, grabbing a napk

liding aggressively up her thigh, gripping her skin with bruising force

d. Her right hand slipped into her open clutch. Her trembling fingers fou

Her eyes locked onto the pulsing ve

muscles coil

A

d off its hinges, crashing inward

the room in seconds. But they weren't Silas's men. They were towering, lethal professionals in iden

le with rage. "What the fuck i

is throat. The chao

Adams w

in the room seemed to drop ten degrees, freezing the blood in everyone's v

n, sickly white. His knees visibly knocked togethe

nce. His abyssal, storm-black eyes

ered glass, pale and breathless,

ked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed her jawline, lingering on the

wn his face. "She's... she's with

is voice was a low, freezing baritone. "With yo

played on his lips. He leaned in, his breath brushing he

g m

nge hidden in her bag. If she used it now, she would spend the rest of her lif

ger. A cold, calculated, world-ending danger. But his i

abbed his expensive lapels. "Take me away,"

arkened with si

o the room, wrapping an arm aro

h to start a war with the "Living Hades" of Wall Street. He forced a

crossed the threshold, Everet paused. He didn't look back, b

ia

" Liam step

ight hand," Everet said casually

ait-AG

re through the booth, accompanie

olently as Everet led her into the private elevator. Th

the mirrored wall, watching her. The faux tenderness was completel