Harpe

er anticipated. The exact moment she spoke those shameless words, demanding I take responsibility for taking her innocence, my traitorous body betr

sed skin sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to my core. I could feel an immediate, undeniable physical reaction rising fie

sked, my voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated dee

ute. "No," she answered, her heart pounding frantically agai

k playing on my lips. "What? Did you su

crimson as she felt the intense heat pooling between us from ou

onship-ending fight with that bastard Anders Diaz and was using me to piss him off. But deep down, in the darkest, most hidden corne

oaring flames, a young Alma Kane appeared, risking her own life to drag me, a complete stranger, to safety. Growing up in a fiercely competitive and toxic family where everyone wanted to tear each other apar

ollected the design sketches she occasionally posted online and had my loyal butler, Bernard, commission them into real

came a fiery reality. I didn't just hold her; I devoured her, claiming ev

y distance from me, treating me like a convenient business partner rath

h-needed breathing room, though my eyes lingered hungrily on her exposed, bru

uld follow. Sure enough, a few seconds later, she appeared hesitantly in the doorway. I was ch

o the unmade bed. It was made perfectly to her exact measurements, ba

illiant work. But to my immense disappointment, her expression remained completely blank. She slipped into the dress without a hi

on, probably ground down by years of serving that useless Diaz family. It stung my pride, b

pered close to her sensitive ear, "I have a lot of secrets, Ms. Ka

icked up my car keys and spoke to her, still frozen in place. "

back with a complicated expression. I smirked, walking out the door. I cou