Sold To My Ex's Billionaire Uncle

face of her son, Leo, nearly lost in

six-figure sum that felt like a physica

bs, a frantic bird trapped in a c

y. A wave of dizziness washed over her, the fluorescent lights overhead blurring in

in her pocket. A li

from her stepm

s I say. Tristan is waiting for you at The

rge of nausea through her. H

on" burned into her brain,

raction. Her fingernails dug into her palms, leaving four perfect crescent

d back, her th

o the bone, she deleted the entire messa

her voice steady despite the tremor in her soul, arranging Leo's care. She leaned over her sleeping son, his breathi

lled a

indifferent brilliance. Each light represented a life, a story,

t was a world she was supposed to marry into, but one she had never belonged to

, the murmur of hushed conversations, the scent of lilies and

he 39th floor. The hallway was carpeted in a thick, plush rug th

numbers gleamed coldly

The point o

he spare key card Judith had sent her. It beepe

this way for nothing? In a final, desperate a

was unlocked, left

in her mind. This was wr

pale face flashe

door open and

a of the Manhattan skyline glittering through a floor-to-ce

old cologne. It was a scent of power, of dominance. It was not Trist

om a scream to a full-blow

hand reaching

e, where do you t

ofa. It was deep, cold, and laced with a m

. She couldn't move. Sh

by the city lights. He was a predator unfolding, a

scrambled backward, her heel catching on the edge of t

r hit th

was pulled flush against a wall of muscle, a body radiating an almost painful heat. T

es carved from shadow and moonlight.

was a claim. An inv

world went comple

nd the unfamiliar weight of a heavy arm across her

d her hea

ide her was

as a blade. A straight, aristocratic nose. Dark hair fell across a

roat. She clapped a hand over her

m, her limbs trembling. She gathered her clothes from the floor

to get o

yes fell on a stack of magazin

ne featured the man sl

ood ra

Burleigh Mckay IV: The Cold-

Tris

in terrified, reverent tones. The man who was notoriously, violently avers

omach

if the devil himself were at her heels. She fled the suite, the hotel, the lif

illness possessed him as he sat up. It wasn't the woman's scent on his sheets that s

nce childhood, a woman's touch hadn't triggered the violent revulsion that was his cu