Zoya Hart has been eluding her gold-digging stepmother for the last few years. Knowing that this woman will do anything to gain control of her and her late father's company, Zoya finds herself hiding out on a farm. Now, with a PI on her trail, Zoya'...
Miles opened his briefcase and pulled out a folder. "Names and photos of some shady characters the widow St. Clair has been dealing with. Also recorded phone conversations with incriminating evidence concerning plans for her stepdaughter. I'm telling you, Marion can get Zoya in a facility and take over the company before anyone knows about it. Once she has power of attorney, it will be hard to undo."
Thumbing through the file, Roman's gut clenched. Doctors, lawyers, and a judge willing to say or do whatever it took to prove Zoya incapable of running her father's company. Fake documents outlining erratic behavior. What? Attempted suicide? Bullshit. As successful as Zoya had been in hiding out, she'd be no match for Marion. Not with this many people on her stepmother's payroll.
Roman eyed Miles. "So, she fucked her way to the middle until she decided she could go all the way to the top with David St. Clair."
Miles nodded.
Roman closed the file. "Why are you doing this?"
"A number of reasons. I've spent the majority of my adult life putting people like Marion where they belong. It took me a while to figure out what kind of person she was, but once I did, I decided not to let her get away with it. And everything I've learned about Zoya tells me she's nothing like her stepmother claims. Plus, I've fallen in love with Stella and I have to be the man she believes me to be. The same way you feel about your bride, I imagine."
Roman couldn't argue with that.
Йой! Нажаль, це зображення не відповідає нашим правилам. Щоб продовжити публікацію, будь ласка, видаліть його або завантажте інше.
On the way back to the farmhouse, Mother Nature reminded Roman that the ultimatum he'd spouted about nothing ruining his wedding day didn't pertain to her. Because now dark clouds rolled in and made themselves right at home.
As he got out of the truck, he craned his neck toward the sky. "Come on. Don't do it for me. Do it for her. She deserves sunshine tomorrow."
Inside, the house was quiet, which caused his stomach to knot. He rushed down the hallway, stepped into the bedroom, and found Zoya clutching his pillow to her chest, sound asleep. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her cheek.
Her eyes fluttered open. "Are you drunk?"
"No. Are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm just tired." She pushed herself up and leaned against the headboard, then tilted her head toward the doorway. "Flynn and Ophelia with you?"
"Nope. Got the place all to ourselves. Mariana came and picked them up because I rented rooms for them at the motel just outside of town."
"But I'm supposed to spend the night at Mariana's."
"Yeah, we'll talk about that. Right now I just want to get a shower." He headed to the bathroom, then stopped and leaned against the jamb. "We already act like old married people. Going to the bed with the chickens the night before our wedding when we should be having parties with strippers."
