There were many things Morgan expected of Anthony Manson, from misdemeanor to trying to get around their contract and getting money in illicit ways. Which, to be honest, he even knew that Anthony was trying to find ways to do it, but couldn't because of his vigilance. However, he would never have expected his partner to die so suddenly. Sitting in the hospital waiting room, with a dejected Charlie snuggled in his lap, Morgan stared at the door where the emergency room doctor had just exited, after breaking the news that Anthony had died after a massive heart attack. In fact, he was already dead before they even got an ambulance out of the mansion. With his head aching from the whole situation, Morgan searched his memory for any indication that Anthony could be sick or feeling the least bit bad in the last few days, but he didn't find it. He looked the same as he always had: obsessed with his work and ready to squeeze every penny out of anyone who careless around him. Of course, hear

For a moment, when he woke up, Charlie thought he was still dreaming. It was the only possible explanation for why Morgan's arms were around her waist, pressing every inch of her body against his, including the exposed part of her chest that the parted shirt revealed. For as long as possible, which she would have stretched out into centuries, Charlie was frozen in place, afraid that any movement would wake Morgan and end that perfect moment. So she just remained relaxed, her cheek resting against his chest, and breathed in deeply of his scent, wanting to memorize how it felt to feel him so close. The only part of her that couldn't settle, of course, was her mind, and before long she found herself lost in a myriad of fantasies and scenarios where she could feel even more of his heat, run over every inch of his skin with fingertips and finally find out what his kiss tasted like. Of course, sleeping with him for real would be fantastic, but it just wasn't what she wanted anymore. To be

Contrary to what one would expect from a funeral, Anthony's funeral took place on a sunny afternoon in pleasant weather that soon gave way to a night of clear skies. The garden had proved too large for the tiny number of people who had attended the wake, especially since most of them were representatives or secretaries of Anthony's "friends", who had attended on behalf of their employers and departed before the coffin was even reached. could be taken to the cemetery. If it weren't for a few occasional tears from Charlie, Anthony would have been buried in complete coldness, surrounded only by the whispers between Samantha and her lawyers, who weren't even bothering to hide how much they wanted this to be over as soon as possible. The entire time, Morgan stayed with Charlie in her arms, shielding her from the empty condolences of the callous guests and Samantha's venomous expression, which seemed more willing to glare at her stepdaughter than say her final goodbyes to her husband. Fortu

Even after the third pinch of her own cheek and washing her face a second time with ice water, Charlie still couldn't convince herself that she wasn't delusional. Staring at her pale and shocked reflection in the half bath where she had fled at the first opportunity he got, Charlie replayed in her mind all the unbelievable things that had happened in the last hour. It was true that she didn't care how little her father had left her in the inheritance, however unfair the division. However, when that idiot lawyer had told her that she couldn't get her hands on anything until she was 21 and that she would have to be at Samantha's mercy for an entire month, Charlie believed she was trapped in a nightmare. Her freedom seemed so close, and suddenly, she had completely disintegrated. The shock and despair were so intense that she was barely able to formulate an argument that made sense as she stammered pathetically at all those people who only wanted to harm her. That was when, out of the b

At lightning speed, he closed the passenger door and spent several minutes without getting in the car, completely out of Charlie's sight, however much she turned in every direction the window allowed her to see, trying to find her. it. Finally, when she was ready to leave and ask if he needed any help with this problem, Morgan burst into the car, his face completely flushed and the suit jacket he was wearing tied around his waist, completely obscuring his forehead. of your pants. And Charlie wanted to tear it apart until the fabric was nothing but lint. "Well..." he cleared his throat, his voice trembling slightly. "Shall we?" Without waiting for an answer, or even moving his eyes in her direction, Morgan started the car, leaving the Manson mansion at an unusually high speed for a person as prudent as he was, looking as if he wanted to get home as soon as possible. In silence, Charlie remained staring at his flushed cheeks and the way he was anxiously looking everywhere but at her