Lowin Vance wasn't just angry; he was vibrating with a lethal, focused rage. His little bird had not only defied him, but she had dared to hang up the phone. And Logan, his most trusted driver had played the part of the accomplice, lying to his face with a boldness that would usually earn him a broken jaw.
Lowin rubbed his temples, the skin tight over his skull. He stormed toward the bathroom, grabbing a towel with a grip that nearly ripped the fabric. He needed a cold shower, something to freeze the anger roaring in his veins and the traitorous heat pooling in his groin.
Since Amilah had entered his life, his legendary self-control had evaporated. Now that she was carrying his children, the obsession had mutated into something primal. He didn't just want her; he craved to be inside her
