Why her?
Why did this woman—this stubborn, infuriating girl with dark hair, sharp eyes, and a spirit too big for her small frame—affect him when none of the polished models, prestigious heiresses, brilliant CEOs, or actresses he dated ever had?
Why did she get under his skin when he had built his life on discipline, restraint, and steel boundaries?
He closed his eyes tightly, whiskey burning in his chest.
He didn’t know.
He hated that he didn’t know.
And hatred was easier than the other possibility.
With a low, frustrated growl, he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
No more games.
No more patience.
If she wouldn’t be bought, then she’d be cornered.
He dialed his head of security, Samson—one of the few individuals he trusted with anything important. The call connected instantly.
