The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

It was painfully clear-the chip was never going to be his bargaining chip.

Vester kept running through his mind, searching for anything else he could offer, but came up empty every time.

Across from him, Citrine sat with her arms folded, a look of easy amusement on her face, as if she were front row at a comedy show.

Vester wasn't one to give up so easily. Just as he looked up at Citrine, ready to speak, something in her expression caught him off guard.

His gaze darkened, growing more intense as he studied her.

Was he really so dense that he couldn't see through a young woman's intentions, or was she just far too clever for her own good?

He had to admit it was the latter.

So that's what this whole dance had been about. She simply wanted to test his sincerity. The realization made Vester let out a short, incredulous laugh.

He never thought the day would come when he'd be outmaneuvered by a slip of a girl.

His tone turned sharp, face stern. "Ms. Carmichael, let's skip the games. What is it you really want?"

war. I hope you won't hold it against me." Citrine offered a small, apologetic

really. Every movement, every

Northriver, looked fragile and delicate

softening

his icy facade for long; it melted away, replaced by a gentler

no idea about the silent

partnership, and saw

now, but all want is your word-if ever

you can

guard. He'd braced himself for some

she wanted was a promise

he decided to set the ground rules" can help, sure-but

and genuine.

smile from Vester, too—one that, had his butler been present, would've been cause

longer about his treatment

stopped

turned back, puzzled. "Is there

shook his head, smiling. "I just remembered at