Return for the ruthless billionaire
But the dominant part—the part forged in betrayal, fire, and survival—was sharper than any desire.
A click of heels echoed, deliberate and unhurried. I did not need to turn; the presence was already electric, invading my skin like a current.
“Rosette Jenner,” a voice said. Smooth. Low. Commanding. Just loud enough to make me lift my head.
He was standing at the threshold, tall, impeccably dressed, every inch the predator dressed in luxury. Dark eyes that seemed to see through me—through every mask, every thought, every heartbeat I tried to hide—locked onto mine. He did not smile. He did not need to. He could have commanded armies with that gaze alone.