Too Late For Your Broken Crown

Summary

There was an open secret in the upper-bracket social circles of Chicago.

Beckett Shaw, the ruthless heir of Shaw Enterprises, was marrying his kept woman of five years—not out of love, but out of sheer spite toward his first love.

In the master bedroom of his Gold Coast penthouse, Beckett wrapped his arms around me from behind. His breath was hot against the crook of my neck, smelling faintly of expensive scotch and cedarwood.

"Gwen," he murmured, his voice thick with a sudden, heavy warmth. "It’s been five years. I can barely even remember what Cynthia looks like."