LOGINHer husband Let Her go. His Boss Won't. In order to keep her father's name clean, Yvonne is forced into a miserable marriage with a man who belittles her. She stays trapped in this suffering until one cold spring night when she clashes with Clayton Voss. The man who rewrites everything she knew about loyalty, love, and takes a dangerous obsession with her. ≈≈≈≈≈ Some connections never die. Some obsessions never fade. And some men don’t ask—they take. Clayton Voss' arrival in Seattle was to take his place as the rightful CEO of SilverThorn Group. He never expected to clash with the girl who hadn't left his memory for years. He never expected that she'd need saving, or that he would be willing to risk it all for her. Yvonne may not remember him anymore, but he hasn't forgotten. He is now her boss and this time, he's not letting her go again Even if it might cost him everything. ≈≈≈≈≈ A forbidden office romance. A dangerous past. And a love that was never supposed to resurface—until it did.
View MoreYVONNE'S P.O.VMy heart stopped the pumping thing it was supposed to doActually...No.It kept beating, only now it was pounding so violently against my ribs that I feared Mr Voss would hear it before he saw me.”Who's there?” His deep voice echoed through the corridor.Every muscle in my body locked, freezing me over. I couldn't move or breathe or think I pressed myself harder against the marble pillar as if I could merge myself into it. Please...Please don't come this way. Please don't see meThe sharp click of his shoes echoed as Mr Voss walked towards me. One...two... three, Each sound sounded louder than the last.He was walking toward me. Oh God. Oh God. Mr Voss was going to catch me, and I won't be able to explain what I was doing here and why I'm hiding from him. Then since I can't tell him the truth, he would have to bring our... relationship to an endMy eyes stung and the first drop of tears slid out. God, it hurt. Just the thought of upsetting Mr Voss and ruining this se
YVONNE'S P.O.V“Breathe” I urged myself for the seventh time. My one hand was braced against the marble wall, and the other gripped the edge of the sink so tightly my knuckles had turned white.Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Again and Again After leaving Prince Emir's suite, I had rushed into the nearest bathrooms down the corridor, locked myself inside one, and spent the last five minutes dry heaving over the sink. Nothing came up because there was nothing in my stomach to throw up, only bone-chilling fear. It was cold and suffocating and it still refused to loosen its grip around my chest.I cupped another handful of icy water and splashed it over my face. Droplets of it slid down my cheeks and dripped from my chin into the clean white basin.My chest squeezed again. That didn't help, nothing helped. I had partically ran out of Prince Emir's suite but my heartbeat refused to slow down, it was still pounding and pounding hardMaybe I will have that cardiac arrest before I get home
YVONNE'S P.O.VMy heart skipped a dangerous beat. The question landed so brutally, that it slammed into my thoughts and scattered themMy lips parted, closed shut, and parted again. My palms turned clammy and I instinctively rubbed them over the length of my dressFor a second, I genuinely hoped that I had heard him wrong. There was no way Prince Emir would know that I was.... involved with Mr Voss. In fact, no one knew. We were careful, we always made sure we were careful So how did...oh my God, my heart was pounding so hard behind my chest I feared it would burst right out of me“Excuse me?” My voice was the scrape of a whisper, I was sure my fear was evident in my face Prince Emir didn't repeat himself immediately, He simply watched me with deeply observant eyes that I wanted to remove myself fromHe poured us both some tea with unnerving patience, he continued watching me as he brought his cup to his lips, studying my every reaction. From the hitch in my breath, to the way my f
YVONNE'S P.O.VHow old was I?I had stayed up all night, been restless all day to arrive at this ‘meeting’ to be asked how old I wasOf all the questions in the world Prince Emir wanted answers to, that was the one he chose first?What's so important about my age anyway? He didn't ask who I was, why, or how I came to work for SilverThorn, or any other thing that would clue me in on his purpose about all thisBut my ageThe silence stretched, Prince Emir didn't rush me. He didn't repeat the question either. The doors beside us opened slowly and two maids entered carrying silver trays. One set down a teapot and cups while the other arranged fresh fruit, and small pastries that looked more like decorations than actual food to be eatenNeither of us spoke.The women moved about the suite like robots, their footsteps barely making a sound against the thick carpet. Within moments, everything had been arranged perfectly on the low table between us. Then they were goneThen we were two again
CLAYTON'S P.O.V“I'll be waiting for you at the gazebo,” I said and softly clicked the door shut I stood outside her room for another minute or two, listening to the soft rustling as she likely scrambled to pull herself together. It made my chest tighten. AgainThe way she cried and kept apologiz
CLAYTON'S P. O. VAs a young boy, I loved her, sweetly, purely. My feelings were soft, my affections had been innocent then.I still love her. I do.But fúck, now it's deeper, darker. Nothing innocent here, not with the way I can't take my eyes off her mesmerizing face, deep russet eyes that turn
YVONNE'S P.O.V He gave me no option. Not like Mr Voss commanded me to be his date for tonight, it's just that when he asks things like that, it's hard to say no. I'm pretty sure I'd jump into a well if he so much as requests it. So at nine p.m., instead of taking the damning pregnancy test sti
YVONNE’S P.O.V. The toaster chimed, snapping me out of my thoughts. I grabbed the slices of bread before they got burned, prepared my sandwich, and put it into a paper bag. Then, I rushed for the door, not sparing time to check my reflection in the mirror.It was my first time being late to work.
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