“Cam, trust me. The only reason I’m marrying your sister is so we can be together without hiding anymore.”
“I get it, Henry. I really do. Don’t say anything—just kiss me!”
Today was Claire Donovan’s engagement party.
She just wanted a quiet spot to call her bestie and spill the news about the engagement.
Did not expect to hear something that almost made her ears catch fire.
One voice was her fiancé’s. The other? Her own brother’s.
Claire’s brain just short-circuited—what the actual hell?
Her hand shook so hard her phone slipped and hit the floor, startling the two lovers mid-makeout.
Run. Just run.
That was Claire’s first instinct.
To hell with engagements—what kind of mess was this?
Out on the busy street.
“Don’t let her get away!”
A loud shout rang behind her, and Claire took off even faster, hiking up her dress, sprinting barefoot, legs pumping like mad while stunned bystanders watched her fly past like the wind.
Could life suck any harder?
She caught her fiancé and her own damn brother making out at her own engagement party, then had the dude send people after her to shut her up. Her heels were gone, her wallet was gone, and she was flat-out terrified they’d catch her and make her vanish.
No way she could go home, either. The guy her fiancé was cheating with? Yeah, that’s her brother. Going back would be handing herself in with a bow on top.
So she ran, pitying herself along the way, under some half-abandoned overpass where not a soul was around—except someone was. She plowed straight into someone’s back.
“Ugh...” The crash sent her tumbling. Claire landed hard, grabbed her very sore nose, and stared up angrily. “Dude, seriously, were you not even looking…”
The man—tall, lean, probably over six-foot-two—slowly turned around.
Tailored suit, impossibly sharp features, the kind of face that looked like it belonged in a Vogue cover shoot. Every inch of him screamed money and menace.
His icy eyes locked onto her so sharply she felt like prey.
Whatever insult she was about to drop? Swallowed it right back.
Claire gulped, heart skipping.
Hello, 911? There’s a ridiculously hot guy here violating the laws of attractiveness.
The man looked her over without trying to hide his growing annoyance, brows twitching slightly. His voice, when he spoke, was deep, velvety, and laced with a kind of lazy danger. “Something you need?”
Even his voice could ruin a girl.
Claire gave herself a shake, scrambled to her feet, ignored how much of a mess she looked, and opened her mouth—
“There! That’s her! Claire Donovan! Don’t let her run!”
She froze, eyes wide.
Then, without missing a beat, she spun around and blurted, “Hey, hot stuff! I’m just a humble girl from a far-off land, passing through on a mission to hunt a dark presence. Didn’t expect it to be this strong. I need your help. Save me today, and I’ll worship your name forever!”
Who talks like that?
Ethan Hawthorne’s brow twitched again, unimpressed.
She was clearly wearing an expensive wedding dress and acting like she’d lost all her brain cells. He narrowed his eyes, curious now about what this little lunatic was really trying to pull.
Then his gaze spotted several men in suits and shades jumping out of a car nearby, clearly gunning for the lunatic in front of him.
He had no interest. With one long stride, he was already turning toward his black Range Rover up ahead.
