The Hidden Tycoon

pte

er brought a slow, steady rhythm back to the bakery-and wit

ning cold evaluations. Georgia had already proven who she was. Now, watching her slowly unburden herself fr

nted advances. Instead, he made him

the subtle c

e sure the cold kitchen was already warm, the fire in the old brick oven roar

constant flour dusting, he quietly bought a tin of heavy-duty working cream fro

ven ask. Broken display cases were repaired after hours. When the bakery hit its busy weekend rush, Lucian stepped u

lar for everyone else, having someone anticipate he

crate in the warm back kitchen, wrapped in an oversized sweater. Lucian sat across

softly, watching his strong hands move methodically over

fire. "I work hard because it keeps you from breaking yourself, Georgia.

s. For two years, Julian had made her feel like her dedication was a burden, calling he

turned into an undenia

kitchen table while Lucian helped them with their advanced math homework-solving complex equations with an ease that

ff Georgia's savings and with Lucian streamlining their

nto something potent and unspoken, Lucian's

mark had offi

ne upstairs to sleep, Lucian stood in his small, warm backro

message from Arthur Dunns, his

ntract with the Vance family heiress. If you do not present a verified wife of your own choosing by the

message, his jaw se

nce heiress. He didn'

s, he had watched her fight for her family, heal from betrayal, and build a quiet, beautiful life w

s over. The deadline was at their doorste

of Summerton, the storm was

against the windshield of his leased sedan. His right wrist was throbbing-

wheel, wincing as a sharp spike of pain sho

ition key with a vicious jerk and slamming his foot o

l hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird, though he refused to admit why. He had expected Georgia to cry. He had expected her to beg, to

ked at him like he w

sed to be scared of him-and that hulking drifter. That useless, silent vagrant who had stood in her kit

slick, rain-drenched streets toward his apartment complex. She's going to realize real fast what it's like without a

baseline of arrogant superiority. He was twenty-two. He was a rising mid-level sales rep for a dealership tied to the Vance enterprise

sed nice, knew how to appreciate a guy on the rise, and didn't

is leather shoe landing squa

y as ice-cold water soaked straight through his sock. He slammed the

st crack in his fra

h in his kitchen, his wet socks discarded by the door, w

D. It was Marcus, the comp

low breath to center himself, and answere

ng in from a long day at

banter about the weekend sports games. It was flat, cold, and entirely devoid of emotio

eck of the glass bottle clink

s? My rent is paid through the end of th

en. "A system-wide background audit flagged your profile for unverified credit standing, fraudulent income docume

rcus, is this a joke? You can't do that! That's illegal! I work at City Motor

em flags are hard-coded from the regional bureau. Maintenance will be by on Saturday at nine in the mor

us, w

t dead with

r. His hand began to shake, the glass bottle trembling in his grip until he set it

emic glitch. Some idiot in accounting pushed a wrong button or confused my file with someone else's. I'll call

the collaps

He couldn't even brin

room, his wet polyester suit jacket thrown carelessly over

ach felt like it was filling with lead. He tried his credit card app-error code 403. He tried

kered, turned solid black,

ICATION: DIRE

ommission accounts have been temporarily frozen pending a