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CHAPTER ONE

SAFFRON EVERHART STARED at the obscenely large, hideously expensive bouquet of flowers on her desk and her heart dropped into her sto to be ined

Over the years she’d learned to decode the levels of hell associated with the gifts that arrived on her desk on any given day

Flowers meant prepare not to sleep for the next seventy-two hours Flowers and a gift certificate to theand have so home for a week The last circle of hell was reserved for flowers and jewellery These days the sight of precious gems made her shudder She had three diamond bracelets, a Harry Winston pink dias, and a diaht of si from her

So, in a way, the flowers, as breathtaking and sto simply because they had no accompaniment

Still

She set the Waterford crystal vase down at the farthest corner of her desk, curbing the urge to caress the soft petals of the hothouse lilies she knew had come from a florist who catered to a handful of exclusive A-list clientele Just as she resisted the urge to lean forward and inhale their bewitching e that each of the thirty long steantic vase cost over a thousand pounds

She rose fro the sensational view of London spread out in rare sun-splashed splendour below her, and pivoted to face the double doors of the office adjoining hers

The breath she took was shaky and weak, her clae she strove to achieve The iht spine and impeccable clothes projected

More and more, that set of doors had seeers that screamed at her to turn back Except she couldn’t

Not just yet

But she’d delayed enough Thole months to be exact It was time to take the final step

Tily risky dive into temptation that had set in motion events that made her heart dip each time she allowed herself to think of it, behind her

Time to take back control of her life before it was too late

Before she could compel her feet to move, a knock on the outer door stopped her She turned, her stoht of the s purposefully towards her Bicycle couriers and ers weren’t allowed above the fifteenth floor She was on the forty-ninth, one step fro owned by the richest man in the world

And thea black velvet briefcase with the logo of the Queen’s jeweller proudly eet from an ordinary courier

‘No’ The as ripped fro steps backward, because, unlike the tennis bracelets and the other priceless gifts, this jeweller, this delivery signalled a whole new playing field The kind that warned you to kiss your soul goodbye That clammy hands and an inability to breathe properly would be the least of her worries if she gave into as unfolding

‘No, no, no’

The courier paused halfway to her desk, his gaze befuddled ‘Beg your pardon,floor? I have a delivery for a Miss Everhart Can you redirect nature from her’

She shook her head ‘No I ht office but, no, you don’t need a signature You won’t need one because you won’t bea delivery’ She are her voice bordered on hysterical but she couldn’t help it ‘The gift is being returned,’ she added for complete and undeniable emphasis

His nervousness increased ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible There’s a non-returnable, non-refundable condition attached to the gift’

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