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Aftershock by Sylvia Day

By Sylvia Day

By no means combine company with excitement. by no means carry politics into the bed room. In a manner I did either whilst I took Jackson Rutledge as a lover. I can't say I wasn't warned.

Two years later, he was once again. jogging right into a deal I'd labored tough to shut. below the tutelage of Lei Yeung, one of many sharpest businesswomen in big apple, I had picked up a specific thing or in view that Jax walked away. I wasn't the lady he as soon as knew, yet he hadn't replaced. in contrast to the final time we'd drifted into every one other's lives, I knew precisely what i used to be dealing with... and the way addictive his contact might be.

The internal circle of glamour, intercourse, and privilege was once Jax's playground--but this time, I knew the foundations of the sport. within the cutthroat company global, one adage ideas all: continue your enemies shut and your ex-lovers closer...

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Townsfolk gravitate toward the chairs around that stove to talk about the weather and share the latest gossip. This is particularly true in winter," he added, pulling up his collar over cheeks that were already ruddy. It was cold in New Hampshire, but that didn't discourage Griffin. He had initially seen Lake Henry in autumn, when the roadsides were awash with color and the air smelled of sweet cider. During his last trip there, it had snowed. As frustrated as he had been at making no progress with Poppy, he had loved that snow.

There was a split second when he thought of the part of Heather's past he didn't know, the knapsack he had stashed away and the words that the federal agent had said. We have evidence that her real name is Lisa Matlock, and that fifteen years ago she committed murder in California. If Heather was hiding something like that from him, it would explain the fear in her eyes. Then again, if she was innocent of the charges and feeling overwhelmed by something that was out of her grasp, her fear was justified.

So she simply added, "Please," and disconnected the call. Slipping off the headset, she took up her coffee and looked out at the lake. She tried to imagine what Heather was feeling--wondered if it was confusion or numbness or fear, or something else entirely. She tried to imagine Heather sitting in a cell in Concord, but couldn't give the image a face that fit. " gentle. The scar did that. It was small, not more than half an inch long and curved gently upward from the corner of her mouth, the eternal optimist's smile.

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