NATHAN
Sly. That's what they thought they were. But they didn't know the meaning of the word. I lifted my wine glass to my lips, the rich liquid gliding over my tongue, and leaned back in my chair as the footage played before me. There she was—Eliza—leading Dominic Graham to bed like a puppet on a string. My lips curled into a satisfied smile. She was far more cunning than I’d given her credit for, sharper than that i***t Adelaide.
Adelaide. The mere thought of her soured the taste of my wine.
I swirled the glass absently, my grip tightening as I replayed her call in my head. "You think you can manipulate me, Nathan? I'll talk if you don't give me what I want." Her shrill voice grated against my nerves. That insufferable woman had the audacity to threaten me?
I gritted my teeth, heat r
