Trapped By The Obsessive Billionaire

na Sullivan trembled slightly, a groan stuck in her throat. Her head ached faintl

o open her eyes. Thi

f a California king-size bed, with thick, cool silk sheets clinging to her skin. A sudde

astened all the way to the collarbone. Sleeves rolled up neatly to the

el bar's dim amber lights and the satisfaction of holdi

and gentle voice seemed to pierce through her body. It was a

? Creed? Yes, it

closed her eyes, desperately trying to recall, but there was only a fr

carpet beneath your feet is soft and comfortable. The room was empty. The air carried the

er phone, her wallet, and her keys. A strong and dizzying sens

et was a neatly

and heavy. The handwriting is simple

t. CEO of Sc

. The Scott Group-a vast empire occupying half the skyline of Manhattan-is a finan

st now

s was not just a drunken mistake; it was a disaster. A sudden and desperate im

lothes were neatly folded on the chair in the corner. She hurriedly put it on, her fingers clumsily

her chest. Without waiting for the elevator, she ran down the st

e window, city lights flickering faintly, her mind repeatedly replaying equally depressing fragments-his low whisper, the w

hed cold water on her face. When she looked up, she saw-a faint red mark on the side of her neck

el and scrubbed the area hard; her skin was rough and red, but the

nto the mirror, her voice ho

eel of that silk shirt. She donned her "armor": a tailored black bodycon dress, low heel

r and one of New York's most prestigious law firms-tha

mirror. A mistake. One-time, adult mistakes hav

her Law Firm is a comfort. This is full of

d young woman-came to her desk carrying a tablet and a latte.

ratefully taking a sip of coffe

client just arrived, a major client. The senior partner said this was exactly

nal instincts were awakened, leavi

"Maya even gave an air quotation mark." The

t won't. It couldn't be him. This

legal notes and her favorite pen. This is her turf.

ing confidently on polished marble. She can handle any client, no ma

Room 3 and pushed open

ll, his broad shoulders wrapped in a perfectly tailored deep blue suit-a suit that was definitely mor

ice calm and professional. "Goo

lowly tur

has s

defined cheekbones, tightly pressed lips, and eyes so dark they seem to suck out a

Her face was pale, and her skin was cold and taut. The

Creed Scott's mouth. The smile didn't reach his e

ce, his voice as deep and magn

her professional training vanished in an instant. She opened her

with his strong scent of cologne-the clean, masculine scent that lingered on her skin th

the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. His ga

is voice low into a

to see y