로그인Dr Carrie VanceThe silence in the boardroom was absolute, broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioning and the distant, muffled sounds of Los Angeles traffic twenty stories below.I stared at the thick black line at the bottom of page forty-two. The Morals and Reputation Clause. It was a loaded gun pointed directly at my head, and Arthur Sterling was simply waiting for me to pull the trigger.I looked at the heavy, flawless diamond resting on my left hand. I thought about the conversation I had overheard outside the restaurant wine cellar—the cold, calculating way Jake had called me a prop, a temporary fix to secure his stock before he cut me loose.If I panicked now, I was nothing but the victim he expected me to be.I picked up the heavy, gold-plated pen. I twirled it slowly between my fingers, letting the metal catch the harsh overhead light, and then set it back down on the mahogany table with a sharp, definitive clack."I’ll sign it," I said, my voice completely devoid o
Dr. Carrie Vance"Put those away. I said I wanted to see the vault trays, not the display case."Jake’s voice was a low, impatient crack of a whip in the dead silence of the VIP room.We were sitting in a private, locked-door suite at the most exclusive jeweler in Beverly Hills. The manager, a sweating man in a pristine three-piece suit, hastily closed the velvet box containing a very tasteful, two-carat princess-cut diamond."Of course, Mr. Slater," the manager stammered, tapping a code into a discreet panel on the wall. "I just assumed you were looking for something... understated.""I don't do understated," Jake said, leaning back in the plush leather chair. He didn't look at the manager. He looked at me. "I’m not buying a romantic token. I’m buying a warning sign."The heavy steel doors of the wall safe hissed open. The manager returned carrying a single, black velvet tray holding only three rings. The overhead spotlights caught the facets of the stones, throwing blinding fracture
Dr. Carrie VanceThe silence in the SUV was an explosive, ticking thing.Jake stared at my hands. His gaze was locked on the repetitive, nervous circle my thumb was drawing over my opposite wrist. I watched the gears turn behind his blue eyes. I saw the exact moment the memory hit him—the flash of rain, the flash of an emerald dress, the ghost of a girl he had broken two years ago.His breath stopped. The anger from the parking lot evaporated, replaced by a sudden, terrifying clarity."Wait," Jake whispered, his voice hoarse. He leaned forward, his eyes snapping from my wrist to my face. "Two years ago. The Diamond—"He knows. The realization was a cold plunge into an icy lake. If he finished that sentence, the revenge was over. My career was over. I had to kill the thought before it could take root."Don't," I snapped, dropping my hands into my lap with a violent flinch.Jake blinked, the momentum of his realization jarring to a halt. "What?""Mark," I breathed, forcing my voice to t
Dr. Carrie VanceThe first thing I registered was the heat.It wasn't the scorching, terrifying heat of a 103-degree fever. It was a deep, steady, grounding warmth radiating into my back.I opened my eyes. The morning sun was bleeding through the gaps in the heavy blackout curtains of the master suite, painting a sliver of gold across the black silk sheets. I was lying perfectly still, trapped.Jake’s massive arm was wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me flush against his bare chest. My back was pressed to his torso, my legs tangled with his uninjured left leg. I could feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing.Panic spiked in my chest. I tried to slide forward, millimeter by millimeter, hoping to slip out from under his grip before he woke up.His arm instantly flexed, locking me in place."Don't move," he murmured. His voice was rough, thick with sleep, vibrating directly against my spine.I froze. "Jake. Let me go.""Why?" he breathed. I felt his face shift against
Dr. Carrie VanceCrash!The sharp, metallic clatter echoed through the adjoining doors, shattering the 2:00 AM silence of my suite. It was followed by a heavy, muffled thud that rattled the floorboards.I sat up instantly, throwing off the silk sheets."Jake?" I called out.No answer. Just a low, ragged groan."Jake, if you tried to walk to the bathroom on that knee, I swear to God I am going to kill you myself!" I yelled, snatching my emergency medical bag from the vanity and throwing open the mahogany doors.I didn't find him in the bathroom. He was tangled in the black sheets of his platform bed, his massive frame convulsing in a violent fit of shivering. The insulated silver ice pitcher lay on its side on the rug, a puddle of water soaking into the plush fibers."Get out, Carrie," he gritted through chattering teeth. He didn't even open his eyes. He just clamped a hand over his face, turning his head away from the light spilling in from my room."Shut up, Jake. You’re cooking your
Dr. Carrie VanceMy right palm was still burning.I stood in the center of my guest suite, the heavy silence of the penthouse pressing against my eardrums. I had slapped him.I had struck a multi-billionaire, the head of the most powerful sports agency on the West Coast, a man who could have me erased from the medical registry with a single phone call to the right board member.But I didn't regret it.The moment that word groupie had left his mouth, the two years of meticulous planning, the elite European training, and the cold mask of Dr. Vance had vaporized. I was suddenly back on the wet sidewalk of the Diamond Club, a broken girl in a torn emerald dress, listening to the world laugh at her execution.A heavy, authoritative knock shattered the quiet.I didn't move. I didn't breathe.The door didn't wait for my invitation. It swung open, clicking sharply against the stopper.Jake stood in the frame. The charcoal suit jacket was gone, his white dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down hi







