wave of cold air with him, he walked straight to the marble bar, poured a full glass of neat whiskey, and downed it in one swallow. The bu

mother, Margaret Stewart, set her teac

" Margaret said, her well-maintained face tight with

d yanked his silk tie

arry a crazy woman buried in scandals

her to become the mistress of the Stewart house." She walked up to Kurt, her gaze sharp. "As for Elissa, no matter how disgusting

und the empty glass as he stared at his mother.

. "I still don't want that woman. But if refusing to marry her means l

o distinguish between your personal feelings and your obligations. The trust

r, Julian Stewart, strolled in wearing a flashy burgundy suit, swirling half

n drawled. "Looks like you're

ezing glare at

otten reputation, Elissa has a great body." He leaned forward, dropping his voice into a filthy leer. "That video tha

apped inside

auled him straight off the sofa into the air. With a sickening crack of cartilage,

shed from his nostrils, soaking the front of his white shirt. Kurt didn't stop. He slammed Julian backward a

mouth again," Kurt snarled, his voice a low growl, "I promis

nds slapping weakly at Kurt's arm

ret shrieked, her face turning chalk-w

ing purple, Kerr rushed forward, wrapped both arms around Kurt's shoulders, and threw all his weight into prying him back. Shovin

th his silver-rimmed glasses. "Throwing away your in

n the carpet. Slowly, Kurt pulled a silk pocket square from his suit jacket, wiped

rt said, turning and w

ent. Whatever Elissa's past might be, she was now bound to Kurt by the founder's mandate-and no one in the Stewart family was going to use tha

teams had been redirected toward the main building and the family council's gathering point to deal with the trust alert, leaving the rear se

e what happened to her next. Whatever the trust agreement said, she

fusion, she slipped out thr

n opportunity to leave the estate grounds unnoticed. The flashing cameras from eight years ago and the sneering faces in the hallway spun together

the loading dock while the driver stood by the fence s

into a tight ball behind a stack of large insulated food crates. In the cramped, pitch-black space, her racing

rear service gate, and disappeared onto the main road. By the time Kurt l

phone from her coat pocket and dialed Bobbie Bailey, t

try yet. My passport, research files, and some personal belongings my mother left me are still in

, "Understood. I'll make the arrangements. Just

the call, a new message from Bo

ready. See y

and slipped it back into her pocket. Boston was still with