from her throat and made her
seem almost surprised that she’d made them.
Monica.
You arouse the hell out of me, Monica.…
Hell, she aroused him in any and all the ways a man could be aroused. Emotionally.
Mentally. Physically.
She and Daniel were similar in more ways than one. In business, they both had the
hearts of a shark. In relationships, they both exhibited cool disinterest toward their
partners and saw them as only passing entertainment, and nothing truly meaningful.
They were both media darlings, both workaholics, but in the only way that counted,
they were opposites. Male and female. And his male was wild about her. His male had
never encountered in his life a woman to even remotely resemble his reactions to her.…
He rolled off the bed and slipped into a pair of pajama bottoms, then padded bare-chested
to his computer room. The screens were up digitally on a blank wall, projected with
lasers, on the other side of the computers, a total of a dozen screens surveyed the
parking lot, the streets, others highlighting his darkened office, the elevators to
Tritech, the building.
He pressed his fingerprint to the computer keyboard, digitally hovering in the air,
and subtly murmured, “Monica Davenport.”
A female voice broke out.
Searching for …
A total of 142,321 results.
“Scan most recent, display all.”
All twelve computer screens lit up, each portraying a different article about her.
He touched a screen and zoomed in on the image of her with Roland Gustafson. Old money.
Country-club type of man. Widowed with a son already in college. Monica was a comet
compared to that dull bug-eyed toad.
Daniel loathed the man, especially the way he’d always been sniffing Monica’s skirts.
He didn’t know if the man wanted some of Monica’s solid financial footing, or if he
just wanted himself a trophy wife. But Monica had said they’d be discussing their
relationship when he returned from London.
Good luck with that, princess. I’m not letting you go back to your mummy this time.
Focusing back on the screens, he moved his fingers over the timeline, and surveyed
back in time, five years ago, six …
He stopped at an article: L EXINGTON AND D AVENPORT W EDDING?
They’d been caught having lunch at the Four Seasons, and gossip had spread like a
forest fire. During those couple of months after the death of her parents, there were
months were there was not a mention of one of them—either Daniel or Monica—without
the other being mentioned. Press speculation had been aplenty.
N OT EVEN I CE M AIDEN C AN RESIST THE P RINCE!
He scowled at that one and scrolled onto the next. All of the speculation had stemmed
from the funeral. He landed on that famed picture. T HE I CE M AIDEN C RACKS IN THE A RMS OF THE P RINCE!
Daniel had been clad in black, his blond head bent, and he felt all over again the
impotence of being unable to shield her from all those prying eyes even as she’d begged
him not to let them see this. She’d burrowed in his arms like a bird with a broken
wing and by God Daniel had wanted to take her to his nest until she could fly again
with him.
Heart heavy in his chest, he went back further, to the murder-suicide.
L ISA AND C ARLTON D AVENPORT F OUND D EAD BY S OLE H EIR!
His eyes scanned the article, and they related once again how their eldest daughter
had called 911 after finding them in their bedroom, dead, with their wrists slit.
Daniel rubbed his forehead and leaned back, remembering all the drama. Monica had
breathed it, lived it, from up close, and it still pained him to think of her having
gone through that alone.
They’d been normal people, Lisa and Carlton Davenport.
Hell, he still remembered them on the Lexington’s Queen yacht, laughing and having a good time. You’d never imagine they would do what they
did. Apparently, Carlton had a slip, a passing affair with his flight attendant. He
confessed when
seem almost surprised that she’d made them.
Monica.
You arouse the hell out of me, Monica.…
Hell, she aroused him in any and all the ways a man could be aroused. Emotionally.
Mentally. Physically.
She and Daniel were similar in more ways than one. In business, they both had the
hearts of a shark. In relationships, they both exhibited cool disinterest toward their
partners and saw them as only passing entertainment, and nothing truly meaningful.
They were both media darlings, both workaholics, but in the only way that counted,
they were opposites. Male and female. And his male was wild about her. His male had
never encountered in his life a woman to even remotely resemble his reactions to her.…
He rolled off the bed and slipped into a pair of pajama bottoms, then padded bare-chested
to his computer room. The screens were up digitally on a blank wall, projected with
lasers, on the other side of the computers, a total of a dozen screens surveyed the
parking lot, the streets, others highlighting his darkened office, the elevators to
Tritech, the building.
He pressed his fingerprint to the computer keyboard, digitally hovering in the air,
and subtly murmured, “Monica Davenport.”
A female voice broke out.
Searching for …
A total of 142,321 results.
“Scan most recent, display all.”
All twelve computer screens lit up, each portraying a different article about her.
He touched a screen and zoomed in on the image of her with Roland Gustafson. Old money.
Country-club type of man. Widowed with a son already in college. Monica was a comet
compared to that dull bug-eyed toad.
Daniel loathed the man, especially the way he’d always been sniffing Monica’s skirts.
He didn’t know if the man wanted some of Monica’s solid financial footing, or if he
just wanted himself a trophy wife. But Monica had said they’d be discussing their
relationship when he returned from London.
Good luck with that, princess. I’m not letting you go back to your mummy this time.
Focusing back on the screens, he moved his fingers over the timeline, and surveyed
back in time, five years ago, six …
He stopped at an article: L EXINGTON AND D AVENPORT W EDDING?
They’d been caught having lunch at the Four Seasons, and gossip had spread like a
forest fire. During those couple of months after the death of her parents, there were
months were there was not a mention of one of them—either Daniel or Monica—without
the other being mentioned. Press speculation had been aplenty.
N OT EVEN I CE M AIDEN C AN RESIST THE P RINCE!
He scowled at that one and scrolled onto the next. All of the speculation had stemmed
from the funeral. He landed on that famed picture. T HE I CE M AIDEN C RACKS IN THE A RMS OF THE P RINCE!
Daniel had been clad in black, his blond head bent, and he felt all over again the
impotence of being unable to shield her from all those prying eyes even as she’d begged
him not to let them see this. She’d burrowed in his arms like a bird with a broken
wing and by God Daniel had wanted to take her to his nest until she could fly again
with him.
Heart heavy in his chest, he went back further, to the murder-suicide.
L ISA AND C ARLTON D AVENPORT F OUND D EAD BY S OLE H EIR!
His eyes scanned the article, and they related once again how their eldest daughter
had called 911 after finding them in their bedroom, dead, with their wrists slit.
Daniel rubbed his forehead and leaned back, remembering all the drama. Monica had
breathed it, lived it, from up close, and it still pained him to think of her having
gone through that alone.
They’d been normal people, Lisa and Carlton Davenport.
Hell, he still remembered them on the Lexington’s Queen yacht, laughing and having a good time. You’d never imagine they would do what they
did. Apparently, Carlton had a slip, a passing affair with his flight attendant. He
confessed when
Similar Books
