Falling Hard
he commanded.
Isla sat, stiff and silent. Her fingers curled into the sleeves of her thrift store jacket. She’d never stepped into a place like this, much less spoken to a man like him—Ezekiel Veylin, heir to the Veylin empire, billionaire, playboy, destroyer of hearts. She’d heard the rumors: the fast cars, faster women, the ice in his veins. And now here she was, about to sell her soul to the devil.
“You know why you’re here,” Ezekiel said smoothly, voice rich and low. “Your brother’s medical bills. Your eviction notice. Your little world is crumbling.”
Bab Populer