I Faked My Death to Destroy My Husband
“She argues with me. She breaks coffee mugs because she refuses to settle for a man who wants to silence her. She doesn’t care about my money, or my title, or my family.”
Irene’s breath caught visibly.
She went perfectly still, held captive by the sincerity in my tone.
“You asked me who I was looking for, Irene,” I continued, leaning in until only the width of the table separated us. “The truth is, I had amnesia about the night we met. I didn’t remember your name. I didn’t remember the club.”
I held her gaze.
“But my body remembered you.”
My voice dropped lower.
“My nervous system remembered exactly how it felt to be awake for the first time in years.”
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