Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
The library door loomed before me. I white-knuckled the handle, expecting it not to budge. I’d spent two months learning to pick endless locks with the kit tucked into my bra.
But the door slid open effortlessly without a sound.
A burst of crisp air lapped my skin, raising goosebumps across my flesh. I edged inside, closed the door, and plastered my back against the wood, allowing myself one quick moment to regulate my heartbeat.
This wouldn’t be the first time I did something that could land me in jail. But it marked my first time stealing from one of the most powerful men in the world.
I didn’t take the time to appreciate Zach Sun’s office, even though I’d never stepped foot anywhere this extravagant before. Not with the pendant beaconing me like a lighthouse. In the same glass box from the Wired spread, right beside an identical copy.
A his-and-hers set.
Well, this seems fitting. One of them is his, the other is mine.
There would be no confusion.
Dad’s pendant bore one imperfection that made it uniquely ours. As a kid, I’d given the tassels a “haircut.” The strands dangled about an inch shorter than they should.
I whizzed past the desk, ignoring paperwork as it somersaulted to the rug with the gust of wind.
Finally—finally—my fingertips kissed the thick glass.
Right above Dad’s pendant.
“Sorry it took me so long,” I whispered, tears pricking the backs of my eyes. “He locked you in a golden cage. Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here.”
Since Dad died, I’d kept his favorite pendant in my nightstand to hug close whenever I woke up in the middle of the night, missing him.
Before Vera sold it, a waft of his scent still clung to the intricate knots. I bet the scent was sullied by now by Zach’s clinical existence.
I’m getting this back, Pops.
I promise.
Hiking up the tattered hem of my pale-blue dress, I unhooked a portable glass cutter from the waistband of my underwear.
The blade clicked as I swung it out, spearing the corner of the glass. Violent thumps hammered between my ears as I began whittling a circle around the small lock.
Then I heard it.
Loud enough to pierce my heartbeats.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Fuck.
The chilly voice didn’t hold a candle to its owner.
I swiveled, pasting on a vacant smile of the Reggie variety. The type that screamed: I have nothing but dust and the latest Chanel collection between my ears.
“Ohmigod, it’s you. Zach Sun. I’ve been wanting to meet you forever.”
I was not above stroking men’s egos if it meant they left me alone. They were normally simple creatures, easily distracted by compliments.
Unfortunately, Mr. Sun appeared about as thawed as Iceberg B-15.
“I asked you a question.” He stepped forward, his eyes a dark vortex, so empty I feared I’d fall into their pits. “Now would be a good time to answer.”
It didn’t help that his presence distracted me. That he was tall, his angled jaw so defined I could sharpen knives on it. His hair and eyes blacker than the tip of a raven’s wing.
He wore a tux with a tailcoat, hair parted on the side and slicked back.
He was power, elegance, and beauty. Dripping charisma like it was molten gold.
And yet, too clinical.
Too cold.
Like a lifeless, deserted planet.
I’d seen him countless times—unbeknownst to him—and I could never get used to his magnificence.
His right brow popped up. “Cat got your tongue?”
More like I’m pussying out after getting caught.
“I got lost trying to find the art gallery.” I bowed, peering up at him behind a curtain of heavy lashes. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t help myself. The rumors precede it.”
“The art gallery is in the garage.” Zach reached for the switch, edging the dimmer up to its highest setting. White light poured from the ceiling. “And if you know it exists, you’re also aware that it is strictly off-limits. Besides, you don’t like art.”
He said it with such confidence that, for one jarring moment, my breath stuck in my throat.
Like he could see right through me.
He closed the door behind him, leaning against it to block my escape route, arms folded over his chest. “Let’s try again—why are you here?”
With a parting glance, I dragged myself away from the jade pendant and sauntered across the room, eating up the distance between us with swayed hips.
In lieu of a sword, sex was a great weapon.
“I don’t like parties.”
Or you.
Or the fact that you waltzed into my life and snatched what’s mine so easily, as if I’m nothing of consequence.
I buried the words beside my pride and dove in for the kill, adjusting the neckline of my gown. His eyes didn’t even budge.
Ouch.
On to Plan B.
I fanned my face, tossing my hair over one shoulder. “I needed to catch my breath, and my legs led me here.”
“Well, I respectfully ask that they lead you off the premises, unless you wish to spend your night in a jail cell.”