The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

“Hello?”

Nothing.

Sage took a step forward.

“Hello?”

Another step.

She was in a sitting room, sunlit and handsomely furnished, assuming you were a devotee of expensive funeral parlors. Ahead, to the right, a door to an adjoining room stood partly open.

“Mr. Caldwell?”

Still no answer. Butterflies were swarming in her stomach.

“Mr. Caldwell? I’m not in the mood for games so if there’s someone here—”

A figure, blurred by the sunlight, stepped through the door from the adjoining room.

“Hello, Sage,” a husky male voice said.

She knew that voice. It haunted her dreams.

“No,” she said, while her heart tried to claw its way out of her throat.

“How nice to see you again.”

“No,” she repeated, the word a papery whisper.

She stumbled back as the figure moved away from the light and became a man.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Lean.

“Caleb?” she whispered.

His smile was cold and cruel, and transformed his beautiful face into a dangerous mask.

“Smart girl,” he said.

She said his name again. Then her eyes rolled up and she crumpled to the floor.

Caleb said a four-letter word and sprang forward. He caught Sage by the shoulders just before she went down.

Had she really fainted, or was it an act? She was good at acting; she’d proved it the night he’d spent in her bed.

In another man’s bed.

No. This was real. She was limp, head rolling back as he lifted her in his arms.

Okay. He’d meant to surprise her. Catch her off-guard. Get her to admit she was after the best payoff she could get because, without question, that was her game….

Instead, he’d stunned her.

Now, he’d have to deal with high drama as well as what would undoubtedly be tears and sobs. Not that it would have any effect on him.

She felt fragile in his arms. Almost frighteningly thin. Her face was paper-white except for the dark circles under her eyes.

But the scent of her was the same.