~ Camilla

The key in the lock always sounded the same: a sharp click that announced the return of the only person who mattered and the end of any peace I might have had. Stephano didn't just walk into the penthouse; he commanded the air around him. He tossed his custom-tailored jacket onto the mahogany chair, a gesture I usually found annoyingly sexy, and loosened the knot of his silk tie.

Even after twelve hours of conquering the financial world, he looked like a magazine ad: ruthlessly clean, impossibly rich, and utterly untouchable. I watched him from the kitchen, where I’d been nervously sipping lukewarm water. The silence between us...