The Turner scent was one of rot and dying ambition. Blake believed that my return to the Hart bloodline meant I had crawled back to the family that once exiled me for his sake. He assumed I had traded my pride for a gilded cage in Tribeca. Little did he know, I was building a new throne from the wreckage he left behind.
In reality, I hadn't reached out to the Hart elders. I wasn't ready to beg for their forgiveness until I could stand before them as a Queen who had conquered the industry on her own terms.
After Ashley retreated, I returned to the balcony. The scent of blooming roses and cedar filled the air, but the most intoxicating aroma was Connor’s. He didn't let me return to my chores. He pulled me into a possessive embrace, his lips crashing against mine with a hunger that ignited
