HE IS THE MAN I AM FORBIDDEN TO TOUCH.
The storm outside is nothing compared to the fire in this penthouse. My mother is gone. The elevator doors closed, leaving me alone with Charles Eastwood. He is a titan of industry and the man she married.
I should run. I should fight the way he corners me against the glass. Instead, I melt under his touch. I find a dark, terrifying freedom in his shadow. He is claiming every part of me while the city watches from below.
We will scrub the scent of our secret from the sheets before she returns. We will play our parts at the dinner table. But the laws of this house are dead. I am his plaything now, and I will follow him into the ruin of our shared obsession.
