Iman smoothed down the front of her tight red dress as she stepped into the grand ballroom. The fabric clung to her full breasts and hugged her wide hips like a second skin. At twenty-four, she wasn’t used to places like this—crystal chandeliers, thick velvet curtains, and the low hum of rich people laughing and clinking glasses. Her best friend had dragged her here, promising free drinks and a night away from their boring apartment. Now her friend had disappeared into the crowd, leaving Iman standing alone with a racing heart.She felt eyes on her before she even saw them.Two men stood near the marble fireplace, taller and broader than anyone else in the room. Late thirties, maybe. Power rolled off them in waves. The first one had dark hair, sharp jaw, and eyes like midnight. Duke Alexander. The second, Duke Marcus, had a slight scruff and a smirk that made her stomach flip. Brothers. Everyone whispered about them. Rich, single, dangerous in ways that made women stupid.Alexander’s
Read more