Sebastian's Point of View
Gianna's breath hit my neck, rapid, erratic, like the flapping of a bird caught in a net. I had her pinned beneath my weight, my hands anchored to the sides of her head, my bare palm pressing the warmth of her belly through her gray sweater. I should have been in complete control. I owned the suite, the man with the private army in the hallway, the billionaire who could buy Istanbul if he wanted.
Yet I felt like a beggar pleading for the crumbs of her truth.
"Let me go, Sebastian..." Her whisper was barely a thread of air, but it carried such a profound weariness that it forced me to slowly raise my head.
Her brown eyes stared at me from the pillows, fixed, devoid of the submissive gleam that had dominated my office for years. Now there was only distance. A va
