Elsa's POV The coffee shop was all polished concrete and muted ambient noise, the perfect neutral backdrop for a performance. I sat across a small, marble-topped table from the man I had spent five years learning to hate, the man I was certain tried to kill me, and the man who, infuriatingly, still had the power to make my heart flutter like a trapped bird.Torture and triumph, the two emotions warred constantly, tightening the knot beneath my ribs until it felt like a steel vise.Riguel Earnhardt looked exactly as I had analyzed him, successful, impeccably dressed in a suit that cost more than my first year of law school tuition, and radiating an effortless, dangerous competence. His scent, the familiar, intoxicating mix of cedar, snow, and Alpha power, was a brutal assault on my senses. I had layered my disguise with a specific, unscented perfume, a tactic Killian had made me addicted to, but even that couldn't block the p
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