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2026-10-16 14:15:22
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His Beautiful Deception Almost
Arielle's POV I woke at dawn with his jacket still around my shoulders. For a moment I did not know where I was. The room was gray and quiet, hung with the pale light that comes before sunrise, and there was a warm weight on the pillow beside me. I turned my head. It was only the jacket. I had taken it off in the night and laid it there, and it lay across the white linen like a sleeping man. I picked it up. It smelled of cedar and rain. I sat on the edge of the bed, holding it against my chest, and let the whole of the night come back. The balcony. The wind. His voice, level and terrible, telling me about a phone call and a screech of brakes. He said, It's about Harcourt. And then his arms, warm and steady, and the long, slow kiss that had felt like a promise. Not tonight. Because when it happens, I want it to be honest. I put my face into the jacket. I had cried for his father. God help me, I had cried, standing in the dark on that terrace, wrapped in the coat of a
His Beautiful Deception The balcony
Alexander's POV I found her on the balcony at midnight. I had not been looking. That is what I said to myself as I stepped out of the ballroom, past the last tipsy stragglers and the exhausted quartet, and took the service corridor to the terrace on the twelfth floor. I told myself I only wanted air. I had endured four hours of Meridian's bankers and Sloane's lacquered smiles, and I needed to stand in the dark and breathe. The doors of the terrace stood open. Beyond them lay a long, narrow balcony overlooking the city, lit by strings of tiny white bulbs, with a low glass rail and a scattering of wicker chairs. The night was clear and cold. Below, the streets glittered like spilled coins. She stood at the rail with her back to me. She had taken off her heels. They dangled from two fingers of one hand. The other clutched the top of the rail. Her gray dress moved in the wind, and her hair, which had come loose from its knot, blew in dark strands across her face. She looked
His Beautiful Deception The woman in white
Arielle's POV The gray dress was a mistake. It was silk, a soft dove-colored column that skimmed my body and stopped just above my knees, with narrow straps and a low back. I had bought it three years earlier for a friend's wedding and never worn it. It was elegant. It said, I am a professional who happens to have shoulders. Alexander looked at it for a full five seconds when I stepped out of the elevator into the lobby. "You wore it," he said. "You said you liked it." "I do." "Then why are you frowning?" "I'm not frowning." "You're doing the thing with your jaw." "It's a habit." "You sure?." "Ms. Sinclair." "Mr. Pierce." "We're going to be late." He offered me his arm. I took it. His sleeve was warm, and his forearm tensed beneath my fingers, and I felt the small, hidden current of it run all the way up my spine. The Meridian dinner was held in the hotel's ballroom on the top floor. It was a glittering, gilded room with a ceiling painted like a summe
His Beautiful Deception Two rooms
Alexander's POV The Meridian Capital summit was held in a glass tower at the edge of a city three hours north. I had no desire to go. I never did. Investor summits were three days of handshakes and canapés, and I had spent my whole career avoiding them. But Meridian held eleven percent of my company's debt, and their chairman had made it clear that my absence would be noticed. "Then I'll go," I had told Daniel. "You'll want Ms. Sinclair," he had replied. I had looked at him. "For the presentation of the resort," he added, with unruffled composure. "The board will expect the architect to be present. It is standard." "It is standard for the architect to attend." "Yes, sir." "You arranged this." "I merely noted the requirement." "Daniel." "I have also booked adjoining rooms." I stared at him. "You did what?" "The hotel had only two rooms available on the same floor. They happen to be adjacent." His face was as smooth as a plate. "I thought you would prefer t
His Beautiful Deception An agreement
Arielle's POV "So we agree," I said. "We agree." "It was a mistake." "A serious mistake." "A momentary lapse in professional judgment." "An unfortunate result of stress and proximity." "It will never happen again." "Never." We stood in the corridor outside his office at ten o'clock on Tuesday morning, three feet apart, holding paper cups of coffee and speaking in the crisp, emotionless voices of two people negotiating a merger. Daniel walked past us with a stack of folders. He paused, looked at each of us in turn, and continued on with the air of a man who had decided not to see anything. "Good," said Alexander. "Good," I said. "Then we can proceed." "Proceed with what?" "The schedule." "Of course." "You have the revised drainage plan?" "Right here." "And the updated budget?" "In my bag." "And the model room key?" I looked at him. There was a very slight flush along his cheekbones. His face was perfectly smooth. But the corner of his mouth
His Beautiful Deception No regrets
Alexander's POV I told her it was a mistake. It was the second lie I told that night. The first had been the roof, ten days before, when I said that she would hate me. That had been true, in its way. This was different. This was a plain, bare, ridiculous falsehood, and I heard it leave my mouth even as her lips were still warm against mine. I did not regret it. I did not regret a single second. I stood in the amber light of the model room with my forehead against hers, listening to her ragged breathing, and knew that if a man came through the door with a gun and offered me the chance to unmake that kiss, I would tell him to shoot. "You're shaking," she said. "So are you." "I've never..." She stopped. Her voice was very small. "Nobody has ever kissed me like that." "I would say the same." She laughed unsteadily. "That's not true." "It's more true than you know." I let my hands fall from her face. They ached. They wanted to go back. I curled them into fists and s
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