Addicted To His Disfigured Secret Lover

Heavy rain lashed against the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the master bedroom. It was past midnight. Brennen sat alone in the dark.

He hadn't slept a full hour in three days. The twitching in his fingers was getting worse. The blood vessels in his temples felt like they were going to burst.

Humiliating the maid on the street today didn't make him feel better. It only made the rage inside him grow wilder.

Brennen grabbed his crystal whiskey glass and hurled it at the fireplace. It shattered into a hundred pieces. He hit the intercom button.

"Arthur," Brennen rasped. "Bring Evelyn to the master bedroom. Now."

Arthur paused for a second on the other end. "Right away, sir."

Down the hall in the guest suite, Evelyn got the call. She almost screamed with joy. She thought her days of waiting were over. She was finally going to secure her place as Mrs. Levine.

Evelyn ran into her walk-in closet. She stripped and put on her most revealing Victoria's Secret lingerie.

She was sweating from excitement. To cover it up, she grabbed a bottle of limited-edition Chanel N5 from her vanity.

She sprayed it wildly. On her neck, her wrists, her inner thighs. The room choked on the heavy, chemical floral scent.

Evelyn put on her stilettos. She swayed her hips as she walked down the hall. She took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy oak doors of the master bedroom.

The room was pitch black. A flash of lightning illuminated the space for a split second.

Brennen was leaning against the headboard. His eyes were closed. He heard the sharp click of her heels. He frowned. On their wedding night, the woman had been barefoot.

"Brennen, darling." Evelyn cooed. She kicked off her heels and crawled onto the edge of the large bed.

As she moved closer, the suffocating cloud of Chanel perfume hit him. It was like a chemical bomb going off in the closed room.

Brennen waited for the sweet, clean scent of gardenia. It wasn't there. Only this cheap, powdery stench filled his nose.

His stomach violently rolled over. Pure physiological rejection hit him. He snapped his bloodshot eyes open.

Evelyn reached out and placed her hand on his bare chest.

Before she could speak, a steel hand clamped around her throat.

Brennen grabbed her and threw her off the bed like a bag of garbage. She hit the floor hard.

Evelyn gasped in pain. She grabbed her throat, staring up at the man in the dark. He looked like a demon.

"Get out!" Brennen roared. Murder burned in his eyes. Evelyn knew he would snap her neck if she stayed a second longer.

She scrambled to her feet and ran out of the room, leaving her shoes behind.

The bedroom fell dead silent again. Brennen's chest heaved. He walked to the window and threw it open. The freezing rain blew in, washing away the stench.

The cold air cleared his mind. A terrifying realization hit him.

The woman he slept with on his wedding night-the woman with the natural scent who cured his pain-was not Evelyn Hickman.

Brennen spun around. He marched to the door and ripped it open. Arthur was standing down the hall.

"Lock down the estate," Brennen ordered. His voice was lethal. "I don't care if you told me the security footage from the wedding night was corrupted," Brennen ground out, his jaw tight with barely suppressed rage. "Rip out the hard drives. Find the best data recovery experts in the world, pay them whatever they want, but I need to see every single second of that night! No one leaves this estate until I have answers."

Arthur saw the dark look on his boss's face. He bowed his head. "Yes, sir."

Brennen leaned against the doorframe. He rubbed his fingers together. He thought about the scent in the hallway last night. The maid.

The two scents merged perfectly in his memory. Brennen's eyes turned pitch black. He was going to find the ghost playing games with him.