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Chapter 2: The Black Swan
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... ntil she entered.
The doors creaked open, and for a moment, the light from the rain-washed morning spilled inside. Then it was swallowed by a woman too beautiful to be real.
Vivienne Moreau.
Twenty-eight. Too stunning. Too sinful. Too much.
Black hair tumbled down her back like ink. Her lips were flushed and bitten red, parted just enough to hint at madness. Her eyes were bright, too bright—icy blue and wide with obsession. Her corset was too tight, her waist too ...
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