LOGIN“Next question.” His eyes locked on her. He was close. Too close. Emily raised the tablet between them. “If your brand—” Scott pressed down on the tablet. Emily backed into the desk. Nowhere left to go. Scott placed his hands on either side of her, caging her in. His face inches from hers. “Scott—” “Next question.” His voice was rough. Emily’s breath caught. Heat flooded her body. “If your brand was a person,” she whispered, “how would you describe her—them?” His eyes dropped to her lips. “Resilient.” His thumb traced her jawline. “Beautiful.” His breath warmed her skin. “Irresistible.” The word hung between them. Emily’s heart pounded. One movement—one inch—and his lips would touch hers. She wanted it. God, she wanted it. “I should go.” Her voice shook. Scott’s jaw clenched. But he didn’t move. “The contract says no physical contact.” His blue eyes burned into hers. “It doesn’t say anything about wanting to.” Emily’s arranged marriage to Ian Hunter was a transaction—his family’s money for her father’s freedom. For three years, she endured his coldness, his cruelty, his mistress. The day his grandmother died, Ian filed for divorce and walked away with everything. Emily’s business collapsed. Ian’s empire grew. Now, she’s desperate enough to make a deal with the devil’s half-brother. Scott Hunter is pitched against his half-brother to claim his billion-dollar inheritance. One of the three requirements is a wife. Emily needs capital to rebuild—and revenge on the man who destroyed her. It shouldn't be. It's unheard of. It's supposed to be a simple contract: one year of marriage, no feelings, no complications. Except Scott can’t stop touching her. And Emily realizes she’s stopped pretending.
View MoreThe room had already started celebrating.That was what broke her.Not the announcement. Not Ian’s face. Not even Scott sitting frozen in his chair like someone had cut the wires keeping him upright.It was the sound of it. Polite applause, chairs shifting, voices warming toward Ian like he’d just delivered a quarterly dividend instead of dismantling a man’s entire life in sixty seconds.And Margaret.Margaret’s expression wasn’t triumph exactly. It was tidier than that. The look of someone watching a spill get cleaned up. Satisfied that the mess was handled.Emily felt the floor tilt slightly beneath her.She wanted to disappear into it. She wanted it to open up and swallow her whole. She’d been sitting at this table as Mrs. Scott Hunter, board member by Hilda’s hand, and now the entire room knew exactly what that marriage was worth.A contract.A transaction.She felt every eye that wasn’t looking at her directly.Scott hadn’t moved.So Emily moved.She stood, took his hand, and pu
The ceiling was white.Scott stared at it for a long moment, trying to place it.Not his ceiling.Hospital.He turned his head. The movement sent a dull throb through his skull.Emily was asleep in the chair beside his bed, her head tilted, her hair falling across her face.Then she stirred, like she sensed him. Her eyes opened.She saw him and was on her feet before he could blink.“Scott—” Her hands were on his face, his arms, checking him like she needed to confirm he was real. “Hey. Hi. You’re okay.”“I’m—” His voice came out wrong. Dry and scraped hollow. “What happened?”“It’s okay. Everything’s fine.”“Nate—” The memory came back in pieces. Struggling. A hand on his arm. Emily screaming. “Nate was—”“He’s not here. He’s not a threat.” Emily’s voice was steady but her eyes were glassy. “Scott, listen to me. Nate broke into the mansion. He injected you with a sedative. A powerful one.” She paused. “Gerry’s men shot him while he was trying to flee.”Scott processed this slowly.“
Susan Wells POV——-Jane was spiraling.“This was ill-thought out from the beginning.” Jane’s voice was sharp, pitched higher than usual. “I said it was a bad idea, and now Nate is—”“You didn’t say anything,” Susan cut in flatly.“I thought it!”“Thinking doesn’t count.”“Hey!” Jane turned on her, eyes blazing. “You came up with this. You sat at that table and suggested we drug a man in his sleep. This is your mess.”Susan didn’t flinch.Patricia raised a hand, cutting them both off.“Enough.”Her voice was cold. Clinical.“Nate was a weak link,” Patricia said simply. “Weak links break. That’s what they do.”Jane’s head snapped toward her.“That weak link is my brother,” Jane said. “He’s in a coma with a bullet in his back that almost killed him.”Patricia stared at her.“Yes,” Patricia said. “And?”Jane cracked.“Are you serious?” Jane’s voice dropped dangerously low. “Are you actually—”“Jane—”“No.” Jane stood. “That’s my brother lying in that hospital bed you old bat! And you’re
“Emily—EMILY!”Scott’s voice tore Emily from sleep.Her eyes shot open.Scott was struggling with someone—Nate.Nate’s hand was on Scott’s arm, pulling away—What the hell?Emily screamed.The sound ripped from her throat, raw and screeching.Nate’s head whipped toward her.Then he bolted.Scott lunged after him, stumbling off the bed—And collapsed.His body hit the floor hard.“SCOTT!”Emily scrambled to his side, dropping to her knees.“Scott—Scott, wake up—”His eyes were half-open, unfocused.His chest rose and fell, but shallow.“Scott, please—”Nothing.Emily screamed again, louder this time.So loud she thought her lungs might explode.So loud she thought she might pass out from the force of it.The door burst open.Gerry rushed in, his face tight with alarm.He dropped to Scott’s side, pressing two fingers to his neck.Emily’s heart stopped.“He’s alive,” Gerry said.Emily’s breath shuddered out of her.“But his pulse is weak.” Gerry looked up at her. “Call 911. Now.”Emily
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