Novels by Talia .E.

POV: ClaraVictor was already at the table when I came down for breakfast.That was unusual. He was a late riser at home, always taking his coffee in the study before appearing for anything social. But this morning he was seated at the head of the table with his jacket already on, a half-eaten plate of eggs in front of him, and the particular energy of a man who had already won something and was enjoying the feeling."There she is," he said, when I came in.Mr. Quinn and his wife were at the table too, along with Camille, who was picking at a bowl of fruit. Nikolai wasn't there yet.I sat down and poured coffee and told myself it was going to be a straightforward morning."The Quinn partnership is finalized," Victor said, as though he was making a toast without a glass. "Everything signed, everything settled. I thought we'd celebrate properly when we're back home. A dinner, nothing too large. A hundred guests perhaps."Mr. Quinn looked pleased. His wife looked like she'd heard this ki

POV: Nikolai The beach at six in the morning was grey and flat, the tide pulling back from the sand in long, slow sheets.Victor walked ahead, hands behind his back, talking. Quinn kept pace beside him, nodding at the right intervals. I walked a half step behind them both, which was where Victor preferred me during these conversations—close enough to hear, far enough not to contribute unless invited."The Wilson portfolio is nearly sorted," Victor said. "A few remaining assets. The lake property, some personal holdings they'd been sitting on for years. Sentimental attachments to things that stopped being worth anything a long time ago."Quinn made a sound of agreement. "Old families have that problem.""They do." Victor stepped over a line of seaweed the tide had left behind. "It's almost a kindness, helping them let go. They wouldn't know how to do it themselves."I kept my eyes on the waterline.Kindness. That was the word he used. I'd watched him use it before—with the Hendersons,

POV: Clara The Draven beach house looked like something that was built to intimidate people rather than welcome them.It had floor-to-ceiling glass walls which reflected the setting sun. Apparently Victor loved it here, so of course I hated it on sight.He parked with a satisfied sigh and turned to Mr. Quinn in the backseat. “Wait till you see the infinity pool. It looks like it drops straight into the ocean.”Mr. Quinn chuckled. “You always did have taste, Victor.”I got out first, my sandals sinking into the white gravel. The salt wind whipped my hair across my face as I heard the waves crashing below the cliff, loud and endless. The sound pressed against my chest, reminding me how isolated we were. We had no neighbors or roads close enough. It was just water stretching forever in every direction.I busied myself with the caterers while Victor gave the tour. Trays of shrimp, chilled oysters, tiny crab cakes—everything expensive and perfect already arranged out. I pointed at wher

POV: NikolaiThe mansion looked worse in daylight.I stood in the doorway of the breakfast room with my coffee, watching the staff move through the ground floor like a cleanup crew after a natural disaster. Someone was on their hands and knees picking sequins out of the carpet. Another was collecting champagne flutes from the windowsills and the mantelpiece and one particularly concerning location behind the grandfather clock.Victor sat at the head of the breakfast table, still in last night's shirt, snapping at the housekeeper about the flower arrangements being moved without his permission."They were wilting," she said carefully. "I thought—""You're not paid to think about flowers. You're paid to move them when I tell you to move them." He pressed two fingers against his temple and reached for his water glass.I took the seat across from him and poured myself more coffee from the carafe. I looked around the table. "Where's Clara?""Migraine." Victor didn't look up. "She's restin

POV: Clara"Gentleman... Meet my beautiful wife Clara." Victor said, placing his hands on my lower back.I just smiled politely at the men whose eyes never came up to my face. Their gazes were fixed on the low cut of my dress, through which my cleavage was visible.I rolled my eyes and did my job beside my so-called husband, listening to him as he droned on and on about political bullshit and some other stuff with his company.Suddenly, I felt a gaze on me and I turned to see Nikolai standing at the corner of the room, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass of champagne.He caught my gaze but his eyes never shifted as he downed the drink in one go and dropped the empty glass on the tray of a waiter who was passing by.Feeling extremely uncomfortable—from the hand of the father on my waist and the gaze of the son—I excused myself from their midst and walked away.I had barely taken two steps before a woman blocked my path. There was a tag on her shirt that read *reporter*

POV: ClaraVictor told me to spend time in the private spa before the gala. “Relax,” he said. “The therapist will be there soon.” I went downstairs and changed into the silk robe they left for me. The fabric felt cool against my skin at first. I pinned my hair up so it stayed off my neck. The therapist was late. I sat on the wooden bench in the steam room and waited. Steam filled the air and made everything damp. My robe stuck to my thighs and the curve of my breasts. Drops of water ran down my neck and between my breasts. The heat pressed into my body and made my breathing slow and deep.The door opened. Nikolai stepped inside. “I need to use the sauna,” he said. He closed the door behind him. His eyes found me right away. He did not move closer at first. He stood there and watched me through the thick steam. His gaze moved over the robe where it clung to my body. He looked at my legs, then higher, then at the skin showing at my neck.“Comfortable?” he asked. His voice sounded rough.