The luxury suite at the Hamptons was a haven of old-money luxury that was secluded and surrounded by private beaches and the roaring surf of the dark Atlantic Ocean. The master bedroom's air inside was dense and suffocating and full of a dangerous winning adrenaline that made each breath feel electric. Nielle stood by the velvet-curtained windows with a crystal glass of costly champagne between the manicured fingers, and gazed at the tempestuous seas.
“Now,” Nielle purred, "untouchable, Nate," as her thin, sharp smile played across her lips and she turned to him. “Now the European real estate operation is pretty much my own, and Zeth is still chasing a shadow around Western Europe, believing his wife is somewhere in some industrial laundry chute in Latvia.”
Nate sat on the edge of the bi
