Кадр выше наш. Полное медиа с Facebook запрошено — подставим его сюда, как только приедет.
{{product.name}}
Chapter 1: Unfinished Business His hands found her hips in the dimly lit corridor, pinning her against the wall with a desperation that felt like drowning and salvation all at once. Five years evaporated in the space between one breath and the next, five years of carefully constructed walls crumbling beneath the weight of a single, searing kiss that tasted of whiskey and regret and everything they'd once promised each other. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her body arching against his in a silent confession that screamed louder than any words could have managed. The world narrowed to this—the frantic rhythm of their breathing, the heat of his palms through the silk of her dress, the impossible truth that after everything, they still fit together like two halves of a broken whole. When he finally broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers, his voice emerged ragged and raw: "Tell me you've missed me, Elena. Even if it's a lie." The gala's music filtered through the heavy oak doors—a distant, civilized backdrop to their decidedly uncivilized reunion. Elena Sorrel could feel the cool plaster of the Wallace Collection's hallway against her back, could smell the faint scent of beeswax and old money that permeated the museum, but all her senses were focused on the man currently caging her against the wall. Alexander Vance. Her past, her ruin, her one great love that had burned too hot and too fast, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. "You shouldn't have come," she managed, though her hands betrayed her words, sliding up the familiar planes of his chest. The black tuxedo was new—Savile Row, if she had to guess—but the body beneath was the same: all hard muscle and restless energy barely contained by expensive tailoring. "You shouldn't have left." His eyes, the color of storm clouds over the Thames, searched her face. "Five years, Elena. Not a word. Not a letter. Nothing." She looked away, focusing on a nearby portrait of some long-dead aristoc
