CEO's Regret After I Divorced
When we burst into the dimly lit gambling den, Derek was in the middle of a hot streak, stacks of chips piled in front of him.
His luck ran out the moment he spotted me—he bolted for a window, disappearing into the maze of back alleys behind the building.
I knew these streets, though. Cutting through a narrow passage, I managed to corner him against a brick wall in a dead-end alleyway.
"Nowhere left to run?" I said, barely winded despite wearing a full suit.
With a few quick moves, I had his arms pinned behind his back, face pressed against the rough brick.
"Mr. Blackwood, please," he whimpered, struggling uselessly. "I swear I'll never bother Miss Serena again, I promise—"