Valerie

"You bastard!" I growled, tearing my mouth away and raising my hand to slap him. His hand lashed out and clamped over my wrist in the air before pinning it to the glass behind me. With a savage growl he claimed my mouth again, body pressing so tight against mine that I could feel the heat of him seeping through his clothes. I shivered as desire, fury and shame ran through me; his hot mouth robbed me of all sense and I opened for his tongue, letting out a moan at the intrusion. One large hand cupped my breast over the material of my shirt and I felt my nipples harden. "You taste even better today," he groaned into my mouth, squeezing at the mound of flesh in his palm. "I hate you," was my only reply even as my panties dampened and I rocked against his trapped erection. He chuckled, grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked. Buttons scattered as the shirt gaped open, revealing my black lacy bra; he pushed it down and my breasts spilled free. When his palm covered one breast I gasped, skin on skin so hot I almost melted into desire at his feet.

"Mr. Finnegan—oh, I'm sorry, sir," a soft voice broke us apart and doused the blaze between us. A wide-eyed brunette stood at the door. I let out a startled shriek and shoved away from Killian, fumbling to arrange my bra and hold the torn sides of my shirt together with shaking hands. "Get the fuck out!" Killian roared; the woman scrambled away in a flurry of apologies. "Oh my God," I cried, grabbing my bag and wrapping my arms around myself. He shrugged off his jacket and held it out. "Here." My lips curled in a snarl. "I want nothing from you." "I don't intend for my new wife to flash her breasts at every jerk from here to your hotel, so take it and stop being so stubborn." Angrily I snatched the jacket and pulled it on; it drowned my slender frame and smelled far too much like him. "I'll get it dry-cleaned and send it back to you," I said stiffly. "There's no need," he replied. "You can bring it along when you're moving in." My jaw dropped. "Moving in? I'm not moving in with you."

He stepped forward and I inhaled sharply, waiting for his mouth again, but instead he reached into the jacket and pulled out a folded document, handing it to me. "Those are the terms of our marriage contract." I opened it and saw my own signature glaring up. He continued without emotion: "As you can see, any agreement broken can lead either party to demand a divorce and a compensation of thirty million dollars." My hands trembled as the paper crinkled; sudden iron cuffs clasped my life. Our company did alright, but not well enough to toss thirty million at a new husband. I was trapped. "You went through all this for a company that's a blip on your radar. Why?" He stilled. "Nektar and I have history." "What history? You've never worked there. So what do you want from us?" "I'm going to tear it to the ground until there's nothing left—not even a memory." My eyes widened. "Why?" He shrugged. "I don't have to explain myself to you. The only thing you need to know is this is the kindest form of justice the Atwoods will ever get." The words were flint; I curled my fingers into the paper until it creased. "This isn't over." I turned to leave.

"My private plane returns to New York at six a.m. If you're not aboard when it takes off, you'll face the consequences." I shot back over my shoulder, "That gives you over twenty hours to meet the terrible end you deserve," and stormed out, ignoring the startled brunette in the hallway. The elevator slid open to reveal a stunning blonde in white palazzo pants and a bright red cowl-neck top, tall, tastefully made-up and radiating superiority. "How many conference rooms can there possibly be in this building?" she snapped into her phone. Realization flickered across my face and I cleared my throat. "There's a conference room on the floor I just came from." She glanced at me. "There is?" "Yeah, but I don't think you'll find anything but dusty old men in suits there." She offered a closed-lipped smile. "Are any of them looking for who to give their endless fortune to when they pass?" To my surprise, a laugh ripped out of me. "You should continue searching. Those ones are just lackeys. If you find any good ones, let me know." Her green eyes settled on my hand and I followed her gaze to the stupid ring I still couldn't prise off. My smile tightened. "My husband can go to hell, with all due disrespect." "If he's anything like my fiancé, I agree," she said. "He's the one I'm searching for right now." "Oh? What's his name? We can ask at reception." She sighed as the doors opened. "I've asked already, but if you come across a Killian Finnegan, tell him to go to hell on my behalf." She walked away and I stood frozen, blood hot with a single, fierce thought: I was going to strangle that lying, conniving bastard.