Chapter 8

The evening news was a relentless loop of flash photography, speculative headlines, and poorly concealed envy.

Clara sat on the edge of the sprawling white leather sofa in Victor’s penthouse, staring at the massive flat-screen television mounted on the far wall. The screen displayed a h

Chapter 9

The morning sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, but the atmosphere inside was as tense as a war room.

"Absolutely not," Victor barked, slamming his palm flat against the granite kitchen island. "It is a suicide mission, Clara. Julian lands in less than fo

Chapter 10

Clara pressed her spine flat against the cold plaster wall behind the heavy velvet curtains, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The scent of bergamot and black pepper drifted through the sliver of space between the drapes—a ghost made flesh, invading the room.

Th