Vivian sat in the back of the cab, her body tense as Christopher’s text replayed in her mind: “Meet me in my penthouse, kitten. You’re in big trouble.”
Big trouble? The words gnawed at her. What had she done this time? She hadn’t crossed any lines—or so she thought.
A million scenarios flitted through her head, none of them good. Maybe he found out about the little white lie she’d told to cover her tracks at work. Or was this about the event last week? Or just about the fight?
Her stomach twisted in a knot as she thought about Christopher’s piercing gaze, the way he had a knack for stripping her down—not physically, but emotionally.
He could read her like an open book, picking apart her defenses with a few carefully chosen words. And when he said she was in trouble, he wasn’t joking.
