Bound by the strings of desire

ly felt as though she were standing on the edge of a storm, caught between the pull of its force and her own hesitation to dive in. The lights sparkle

herself, gripping the st

luence, Caleb insisted, could change her life. She'd dreamt of this encounter a thousand times over, her meeting with the

Mason Blackstone even e

ilored lines of his midnight-black suit seemed to mold to him like a second skin, emphasizing the sharpness of his jawline and the breadth of his shoul

ir, a sensation he couldn't quite name. His e

s. Yet, it was not her looks that captivated him, but rather his impression of hers was her vulnerability. The way she clutched her c

asked, cutting Evel

led into a barely there smirk. "No one is important. Likely s

t he didn't respond. He did not, but he moved backward, his

rgettable to me, he

rcame Lily before she could see anything. A tingle of apprehension mixed wit

Blac

ercing blue eyes held hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. His lips turned

the distance. There was only two of them, together by something i

She wanted to look a

rted walking

ved on from him as if sensed his power, his authority. By the time he reached

oice deep and smooth, like vel

She cleared her throat, trying t

his face with a subtle turn to look at

at was a compliment or an

t she held tight against

aid, her voi

n a triangle of interest, maybe, or

n Blackstone felt absurd. However, there was something about look

charcoal sketch of one person looking at the s

. The contact sent a jolt through her, but he didn't seem to noti

at last, his voice almost

, stunned. "

to her. "But tell me what drives you to creat

y mother," she said softly. "She's sick. Art is. It i

s if of pity, maybe sympathy, passing over his c

And how far would y

Lily off guard. "I

swer, a sharp voice c

, walking up to the side of the subject. "I s

with humiliation, but

hink it is best you be mo

ned its confidence, her eye fixed only by Lily. "

s expression softening slight

strange sense of loss. She had no idea what she should make out of

gazing out at the sprawling gardens. The newly blown breath of the balmy air of the cool nigh

n't be out

standing in the shadows,

he said, her voice ba

t casting sharp edges ov

spoke. The silence was heavy,

on said finally. "Your work is ext

art racing. "Why? Yo

nd he took another step

vibrating in her purse broke the moment. She got

ly. Mason Blackstone is

racing. Who had sent the message?