I knew I was walking into a trap the moment Dante Marchetti smiled at me.We were standing in the library of the Ashford estate, though the bank would disagree and he looked like he belonged there more than I did. A dark suit that probably cost more than our monthly mortgage payment. Hair so black it seemed to swallow the lamplight. And those eyes. God, those eyes were the color of a winter sky just before snow, cold and impossible to read."You have a beautiful home, Miss Ashford," he said, running his finger along the spine of a first-edition Dickens my grandfather had collected. He didn't ask permission. Just touched it like he already owned it.Maybe he did."Thank you," I managed, clasping my hands together to keep them from shaking. "Though I imagine you didn't come here to discuss interior decorating."That smile widened. It was the kind of smile that made my stomach turn over, not from attraction but from warning. Like seeing a shark fin break the surface of calm water."Perce
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