Chapter 2

Once the black Rolls-Royce glided down the driveway and disappeared into Manhattan traffic, Georgia let her stiff shoulders slump and blew out a long breath.

She turned and walked toward the kitchen, her hand flying to her stomach as a sharp cramp twisted her insides. Dark spots danced across her vision. The original Georgia had starved herself for years to maintain a size-zero figure for upper-crust galas, leaving this body with severe hypoglycemia.

Gripping the cold marble edge of the kitchen island, Georgia yanked open a cabinet looking for a piece of chocolate, only to find rows of organic, gluten-free oat bran. By the kitchen doorway, Martha folded her arms over her chest, watching Georgia's pale, sweating face without moving an inch to help.

Suddenly, the heavy front lock clicked, followed by the sound of brisk, heavy footsteps crossing the foyer. Garrett had forgotten a confidential file and come back.

Georgia pushed herself off the island and stumbled out of the kitchen into the front hall. Halfway across the marble floor, her knees buckled, and the room pitched sideways as she pitched forward.

Garrett had just stepped through the entryway when his meek wife collapsed straight toward him. On pure reflex, he lunged forward and caught her limp waist with one strong arm.

Georgia's forehead slammed hard against the solid wall of his chest, the crisp scent of cedarwood filling her nose as her eyes rolled back.

The exact second her skin pressed through his suit jacket, a loud, snappy female voice exploded inside Garrett's head.

Holy shit! Is this guy's chest made of cast iron? He nearly cracked my skull! He better write me a ten-million-dollar check for medical damages right now!

Garrett froze, his spine locking up as his blue eyes darted around the foyer. Nobody was there except Martha, who was standing twenty feet away with her mouth shut.

He looked down at the woman in his arms. Georgia's eyes were closed, her lips pale and parted, completely unconscious.

Why isn't Mr. Iceberg letting go? Is he trying to cop a feel while I'm out cold? Just wait until that divorce paper is signed, I'm booking a first-class ticket to Hawaii to oil up twenty-year-old male models!

The voice rang out again, crystal clear and dripping with greedy excitement.

Garrett's pupils shrank to pinpricks, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek. In sheer shock, he yanked his arms back. Without his support, Georgia slid down his tailored trouser legs and hit the thick wool rug with a dull thud.

Instantly, the noisy voice cut off, leaving the grand foyer dead silent.

Garrett took a half-step back, his chest rising and falling fast as he pressed his right hand against his throbbing temple. For years, he had taken heavy neurological suppressants to control his manic episodes; his immediate thought was that the drugs were finally giving him auditory hallucinations.

Seeing her boss's pale face, Martha hurried forward, her voice tight with panic.

"Sir, should I call Dr. Middleton?"

Garrett dragged in a cold breath, shoving down the chaos in his chest.

"Get her upstairs. Don't let her die on my living room rug."

Martha quickly waved two maids over, and together they hauled the unconscious Georgia up the spiral staircase.

Garrett stood alone in the foyer, staring down at his right palm. His long fingers curled slowly into a fist. Turning sharply, he strode down the hall to his first-floor study, shoved the heavy walnut door open, and locked it behind him.

He yanked open his desk drawer, grabbed an unlabeled white plastic bottle, and shook two bitter pills into his hand, swallowing them dry. Yet the phantom voice shouting "Holy shit" echoed in his memory. With a sharp tug, he loosened his silk tie and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the Manhattan skyline, his eyes dark and unsettled.

Upstairs in the guest bedroom, Georgia groaned and opened her eyes, rubbing the red mark on her forehead, completely unaware that she had just blown her cover. Down in the study, Garrett stared at his hand, a dangerous curiosity replacing the shock in his eyes.