Her Toxic Desire
"The master bedroom has its own lock. I’ll be out here on the sofa. First light, I’m calling a locksmith I know to go change the deadbolts on your apartment door, and then I’m handling the legal side. You are going to stay right here, drink that water, eat something, and sleep. Do you hear me?"
Charity looked up at me from the vast leather couch, her small figure illuminated by the dim accent lighting of the penthouse. For a moment, she looked like the girl I’d known months ago—stubborn, analytical, her legal brain working behind those beautiful, tired eyes. "And what if she doesn't go to the apartment, Davis? What if she realizes the tag was destroyed, understands that you were the one who
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