He was infatuated—no, obsessed. Her body haunted him, the taste of her lips replaying in his mind at the most inconvenient moments. He craved the sound of her sigh, that breathless little catch that escaped whenever he touched her. It was the way she made him feel alive, reckless, dangerously close to losing his iron grip on control.
Every time he thought about her, he ached. Every time he imagined Sharona, he felt nothing. And yet—Sharona was the logical choice.
Still, logic was what his empire demanded. He needed a wife who would keep his investors interested. More importantly, he needed someone who could live with his sister under the same roof without complaint, someone who wouldn't see her as a burden. Someone who already understood the delicate patience required.
Sharona fit that bill in every way.
