Breaking Grace by Rose Devereux!
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Book Description:
Two years ago, I murdered the love of Grace Garrett’s life. I had it all – a thriving company, money, women at my beck and call. Then I shot and killed James Winthrop. And got away with it. His beautiful fiancé is ruined, so damaged she’s destroying herself. And I’m the reason why. Nothing and nobody can save her. Except me. Only I know how to help her start again. By wiping the slate clean. Breaking her down until she’s brand new. And rewarding her obedience with the one thing she truly needs. Vengeance against me.
Excerpt:
“Everybody has a price,” I say. “And I’m not talking about money.”
There’s that cynical look again, like she’s done and heard it all. “What more could you offer me than that?”
It’s like a fucking revelation when I think of it. A crazy spark that goes off in my brain. It’s as if I’ve been waiting for it all along, and didn’t even know it.
I hold her chin so she can’t look away. “An eye for an eye, right, Grace?”
“So?”
“So. I’ve got a roomful of weapons downstairs.”
Face draining, her lips part. “What? Do you mean…”
“Yes. If you stay, and money isn’t enough, then you decide what to use and how to use it.”
Her eyes are huge and green-black. “That’s…insane.”
“But it’s fair, isn’t it? It’s justice?”
“Why – why would you do that?”
It takes me a long time to answer. “Because this has to end. And if that’s how it ends, then so fucking be it.”
A tiny shudder ripples through her shoulders. “Wouldn’t that make me a killer, too?”
“Not if I do it myself.”
She gasps. Pulling back, she gives her a head a hard, determined shake. It’s one thing to dream of revenge. But this is too close, too fucked-up, too real.
“I can’t,” she says. “Never.”
I stifle the urge to fight her. To try to convince this weak-strong, sweet-evil girl to take the deal of a lifetime. Hand-to-hand combat won’t work. Not with her.
“I had your dress cleaned today, and your lingerie washed,” I say.
This bit of information seems to startle her. “Oh. Okay.”
“You can keep the slippers Coral gave you.”
“Thanks.” Her voice is small and docile. “And I’ll um, ice my ankle.”
“Good.” I stand and go to the door. “There’s a paper and a pen in your nightstand. Tonight, make your decision to stay or go. Write yes or no and put it under the door.”
She blinks at me. She’s never looked more innocent. “Under the door?”
“I’ll see it in the morning. If you write no, you’ll get dressed and I’ll drive you to your parents’ house. We’ll never see or speak to each other again.”
“And if…I write yes?” she asks.
I switch off the light, plunging us both into darkness. “If you write yes, then you’re mine.”
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