Chapter 2

A faint, golden light illuminated the contours of the man's face, sharpening his

striking features. He looked distant, his expression cool and detached aloof restraint that was both forbidding and irresistibly alluring.

He frowned slightly, about to turn and leave.

an air of

Suddenly, Effie's slender, pale fingers gripped the sleeve of his dress shirt, clinging to him as if he were her last lifeline.

Her heart raced, and the man's unique scent seemed to swirl around her, clouding her senses. Flashes from the private lounge replayed in her mind, and she found herself thinking-if Mitchell could do it, why couldn't she?

"Let go," the man said, his entire being radiating an icy, implacable chill.

"No," Effie replied, her voice as soft and teasing as a kitten's purr, the kind that tugged at your heart and made you want to draw closer.

He glanced down at her, the corners of his mouth curving faintly.

"No? Do you even know what happens next if you don't?" His tone was laced with danger and a dark, magnetic charm.

"Would you be interested in marrying me?" Effie's eyes were rimmed with red, but she gathered all her courage to get the words out.

She knew it sounded insane.

just wanted someone-anyone-to marry. This wasn't a drunken impulse;

getting old and always wished she'd settle down. She was supposed to marry Mitchell, but after tonight, that

want her grandmother to worry, and she didn't want to give

man was better than Mitchell,

noticed the man wasn't wearing a

to try,

at all. If anything, it made her

night, her mind was

chin gently with his fingertips, forcing her to meet his eyes. She took in his refined, almost otherworldly features-eyes clear and deep, face a blend of

It was him.

even know who I am?" His voice was low and resonant, thick

head jerked up

Lyman Etheridge.

could it possibly be

Who was Lyman, anyway?

Street at fifteen.

Lyman was the sort of man

last man anyone in their right mind

lashes trembling minutely. Every instinct screamed at her

met Lyman

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