LOGINHe leans forward, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial, deeply unsettling whisper as he stares directly into my green contact lenses. "In fact... you don't have to be a maid at all, Candy. I can make all of this manual labor disappear with a single phone call. If you can just agree to be my pri
"Look, Naomi, if Dennise catches you in here, she’s going to—" The distinct, heavy sound of the deadbolt locking echoes through the quiet kitchen. My entire body goes completely rigid. My instincts scream at me, a cold shock of adrenaline instantly shooting straight to my fingertips. That isn't th
I smooth down the front of my oversized, scratchy maid uniform, my fingers tracing the small bruise on my chest from where Caroline's finger violently ripped my dress open at the cemetery yesterday. My skin still feels raw from the humiliation, my eyes are burning from crying all night over Owen, a
The striking, facial structure. Sydney is an absolute, undeniable replica of the woman in the vintage photograph—Tobias’s mother. The almost psychotic protectiveness Tobias has shown toward Sydney from the very first moment he met her. The massive financial safety nets he threw under her, the fact
Before I can even open my mouth to apologize for breaking into his house, Tobias speaks. His voice is incredibly quiet, completely devoid of its usual sharp authority, yet it carries a heavy, haunting weight that pins me right to the carpet. "For years..." he murmurs, his finger continuing its slow
I stand frozen on the gravel path, the engine of Sydney’s departing car roaring in my ears. I watch the taillights of her vehicle bounce over the cemetery threshold, disappearing completely from sight, and with every inch of distance she puts between us, my heart shatters into a million jagged, irre
The air conditioning in Owen’s suite is hummed at a perfectly cool temperature, but I can feel a single, traitorous drop of sweat gliding slowly down the curve of my spine. My skin feels hyper-sensitive, prickling under the weight of his gaze. I try to speak, to lay out everything I thought I woul
I almost choke on the very air I’m breathing. A wave of heat flushes my skin, followed by a cold sweat. I’ve been lying to Nicholas for weeks, pretending I was working on reaching out to Owen, when in reality, I was terrified of the man. And now, here he is, standing on the balcony with only a few
"It’s small," he remarks, his lip curling in distaste. "It smells old and used. Is this really the life you’re choosing over the mansion? Over me?" "It’s a life where I can breathe. That’s worth the lack of square footage." I fold my arms across my chest, trying to build a barrier between us. "Why
My apartment feels hollow. Maybe from my nerves, or from the fact that I've still not filled up the space yet, but it certainly feels very hollow. Deckard... Deckard... Deckard. That unholy motherfucker. I run my hands through my hair as I pace the length of the living room, his threats still r







