Chapter 49

McNeil stepped into the bedroom, the only light coming from a single amber bedside lamp.

The spacious bed was empty, and the curtains fluttered gently in the night breeze.

He found her outside on the balcony, perched on a tall chair, wearing nothing but a thin white shirt. Her long, pale legs dangled in the moonlight, glowing with an ethereal allure.

She was supposed to be "asleep," but instead, she sat with a glass of crimson liquid in her hand, her chin resting carelessly on the railing as she stared intently at her drink.

Every now and then, she brought the rim to her lips and took a delicate sip.

Through the sheer fabric of her shirt, McNeil could make out the soft, enticing lines of her body.

His throat tightened, and before he could stop himself, he strode over and snatched the wineglass from her hand.

"Are you trying to catch your death out here? It's freezing."

It had to be close to thirty degrees outside, and she was sitting there bare-legged, drinking cold wine.

A surge of anger welled up inside him. He scooped her up from the chair and tossed her over his shoulder.

The moment his hand touched her skin-cool, smooth, impossibly soft-a strange heat crawled up his spine.

alone," she

onto the bed. Victoria blinked up at him, her gaze

his suit from the evening, jacket unbuttoned but tie and

drinking, getting into another man's car-do you

hair spilling across the

corners, her eyes shining with tears and something dangerously beautiful.

whose car she'd gotten into tonight with that same

sharp and sudden through McNeil. He dropped his head

alcohol in her veins left

limp and

in

feverish passion

and dim light, the

passed, Victoria fell asleep

the soft glow of the lamp, McNeil studied her delicate, porcelain face, a wave of

he didn't love her, not really. But he couldn't

And in bed, she was always so willing, so

brushing away the tears lingering at the

she wanted to leave-but he would

the night when McNeil's phone

of bed and stepped onto the

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