The jeep was idling at the curb, a silent, predatory beast against the gray backdrop of the Heights. Giselle wondered what she was going to say to him, she had to say something at least.
She prayed for courage and hoped her voice would not fail her. The tinted window slid down an inch as Giselle approached, the cool air from the interior smelling of leather and the sharp, expensive scent of Richard Hemingway.
She pulled the door open and slid into the backseat. Richard was sitting in the corner, his silhouette imposing, his eyes tracking her every move with a hunger that felt like a physical weight.
"You didn't have to do all that, Richard," Giselle snapped, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound firm. "Freezing her bank accounts? Blocking Lawrose’s sponsors? I just wanted som
