"Look at you," he said, throwing a strand of brunette hair over the girl's shoulder, "reading that romantic nineteenth century crap." Serena instantly cowered away from the man and fought herself not to look up. "It's twentieth century, and I'm reading this for school." Theo's mouth popped opened to form the perfect O shape. Then out of the blue he asked, "Are you a virgin?" "No," she surprised him by saying. She hadn't even missed a beat. "That's a shame."

"How long have you worked here?" Logan felt her heart slam against her chest as he approached, closing the distance between them. "A few weeks. I was here... We spoke..." "You're the servant who walked in on me," Nicholas said, his lips curling into a smirk. "Yes, that was me." Logan gasped when his hands wrapped around her wrists. "What are you doing, Mr. Wilder?" "Next time you walk into my room like that, I'll bend you over and show you what a real punishment is." She couldn't breathe. She didn't even dare as he released her then stalked away as if he had not just threatened her.

"What am I doing?" Adeline pushed the weight of his body off of her and huffed out a heavy breath. "Don't think," he said, tracing her bottom lip with his damped finger. "I'm cheating on my husband." "You're taking revenge." She shook her head, unconvinced. "It doesn't make me any better than him." "You're so much better than him," he whispered, caressing her cheek. "You deserve so much better, too. Leave him, babe." "And go where, Will?" "Anywhere," he suggested. "With me."

"What are you doing here?" Theo tucked his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "I don't know." "You're lying." "Of course I am," he said, glancing down at the furious woman. "I wouldn't hop on a plane for no reason. I can't stand being apart from you, Serena." "Our last conversation doesn't convince me of that." She turned in her chair to avoid his gaze and stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest. "Is this it for us, Theo?" "What do you mean?" She took a deep breath and fought the cry that threatened to escape her. "Is this where we decide we're finished trying?"

Tristan couldn't help but chuckle. "Is that what it is? You want a fairy tale love?" "And some great sex." "I thought I was giving you that." There was a spark in her eyes that could have either been disappointment or lust. Tristan knew it was both in that moment. "I need more than just fifteen minutes every Friday night." "It used to be everyday." She nodded, as if she could remember every sexual encounter from the moment they met to this very one now. "I want the thrill of possibly getting caught. I want to be fucked, Tristan. This is the first night we're alone in this house in weeks, and you haven't even tried to fuck me." He stood, walked over to her, and pulled her against the erection in his pants, teasing her erected nipple beneath her thin t-shirt. "You didn't think I would bend you over and fuck you anywhere I'd like?"

"Why Connor?" Camilla couldn't look him in the eye. She was already lying to everyone else, and although Stephen was just another person to lie to, it was harder. "He just makes me happy." "He used to tease you. You'd come crying to me," Stephen said with the shake of his head. "Suddenly you're in love, and you want to marry my brother." "Things have changed. We're adults now." He scoffed. "But instead of reaching out to me like an adult you accept his proposal." "He and I are together," she told him. "I'm sorry, Stephen."

He stepped toward her, lifted her chin in his hand and opened his mouth, but words wouldn't come out. "Connor..." "You could have been wearing something a lot similar to this while reciting your vows to Stephen." He wanted to sew his mouth shut when he saw the look of horror on her face. He had said something terribly wrong. "I forgot for a moment that you two are just friends and he gave you up because I love you so damn much." The dress was suddenly too much to bear. It weighed heavy on her, and the tiara on her head had her scalp crawling with beads of sweat. The lace on the gown made her entire body itch while the blinding white material burned her eyes to tears. "Get this off of me," she cried, desperately reaching for the zipper. A white dress and a jealous boyfriend were not included when she joined the agency.

"Pregnant," he said, the word rolling off his tongue. "Yes, Mr. Devereux, I am pregnant with your child." She cast her eyes down at her nails to avoid his intense hazel eyes. "Anyway, you don't even remember me. I just thought you should know. Goodbye." Oh, yes, he remembered this one. She had been a challenge, and when he finally stumbled into bed with her, he didn't ever want to stop his deep thrusting or the desperate movements of her hands in his hair, pulling him closer until they came together. "Olivia," he said, drawing out her name the same way he had during their passionate night. "I want my child. Give me proof it's mine so I can take this predicament off your hands." She laughed at the insensitive man. "How dare you have the nerve to call my child a predicament? There is nothing unpleasant about the blood I carry. Goodbye, Mr. Devereux, and I hope you rot in hell."