Trading Passion With The Ruthless Tycoon

aurant entrance, her heart hammering against her ribs. The parking lot was eerily quiet, a stark

ing calmly, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He h

seless rhythm against his chest. She didn't know this version of herself, this woman who screamed and struck out. It wa

hrieked, tears of rage and desperation streaming

iation she'd been holding back. "My rent, my mother's debt, my b

ng all her helplessness into the assault. He

ak. He just watched her with those dark, deep eyes, his expres

bbed, her energy spent, and

lled. Chloe curled into a ball, pressing her face against the cold glass of the window. A profound self-loathing wash

er voice cold and dead. "I

silence in the car w

jarring. He answered it, the call co

e. "Mr. Sinclair, the police are here. Mr. Berman and Mr. Reynold

Julian, her mind struggling to pro

he first time, she noticed the raw, scraped skin on the kn

y, powerful men so badly they ended up in the hospital, an

d across the hall, who fixed

scussing the weather. He glanced at her, his

t she didn't move. She just stared at him, trying to find a crack in his calm facade, a clue to who h

he said, the words sounding

the air from her lungs. The scent of him-sandalwood, soa

yself, Chloe," he said,

took her hand, his touch surprisingly gentle, and began to unwrap the old bandage. His movements were slow, deliberate, a stark

p in front of their building, Chloe fumbled for the door handle befor

ney," he said, his v

hollow, aching exhaustion. In her apartment, she locked the door, slid down to the floor, and sat there in the dark. The image of his scraped knuckles, the sound of the caller's voice-hospital, no charges-played on a lo

phone onto the couch and buried her face in