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Corporate Clashes

The morning rain beat against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Wolfe Industries' conference room, matching the storm in my chest. My fingers were shaking a little as I adjusted my laptop for the third time, its sleek device a poor shield against the primal energy radiating from Callum at the head of the table. Even in his perfectly tailored Tom Ford suit, he breathed raw power. A flicker across my skin prickled with awareness.

I forced myself to breathe, to maintain that ice-queen veneer which had been my protection against the world since James's betrayal. But when Callum's amber eyes met mine across the gleaming mahogany table, that carefully wrought control faltered. For a heartbeat, his gaze gentled, and something in me stirred with a yearning I would not admit.

The spell was snapped the instant Amelia Thornton swanned into the room, her platinum blonde hair glowing under the recessed lights. The way she posted herself up at Callum's right hand, posed in perfect ease in her Chanel
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