Chapter 2

Dead silence filled the massive office. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioning.

Doyle gasped from the doorway. He recovered his senses and lunged forward, reaching out to grab Evelina by the shoulder and drag her out.

Sterling leaned back in his leather chair. A cruel, mocking smile touched the corners of his mouth.

"Get out," Sterling said.

Doyle's hand clamped down on Evelina's shoulder.

Doyle underestimated her, expecting the frail resistance of a scared girl. Taking full advantage of his lowered guard, Evelina dropped her weight. She twisted her torso, using Doyle's own momentum against him. She gripped his wrist, applied a sharp pressure to a highly specific, paralyzing nerve cluster used by elite operatives, and shoved him backward. Doyle stumbled, his heavy frame hitting the doorframe.

Sterling's eyes narrowed. The mocking smile vanished. He watched her fluid, violent movement with a sudden, sharp interest.

Evelina did not step back. She took a deep breath, her gaze sweeping over the mahogany desk. A steaming cup of black coffee sat near Sterling's right hand.

She leaned closer to the desk. She inhaled deeply, making a show of smelling the air. Then she looked straight into Sterling's arctic eyes.

"That is top-tier Geisha coffee. The aroma is incredibly potent, yet you did not react to it at all when it was brought in. Your facial micro-expressions remained completely flat," Evelina observed, her tone laced with calculated deduction. "You cannot smell a single note of it, can you?"

Sterling's pupils dilated. The muscles in his jaw locked. He leaned forward, his massive frame radiating pure, lethal aggression.

"Who sent you?" Sterling demanded. His voice was a low, dangerous growl.

His anosmia-his complete loss of smell-was the highest-level secret in the Montgomery family.

Evelina let out a short, dry laugh. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a small, black velvet box. She placed it gently on the desk between them.

"No one sent me," Evelina said. "I know your secret. And I am the only person in this world who can fix it."

Sterling stared at the velvet box. He raised a hand, flicking his fingers at Doyle.

Doyle stepped back into the hallway, but he kept his hand resting on the panic button at his belt.

"If you are lying," Sterling said, his voice devoid of any human warmth, "you will not walk out of this building alive."

Evelina ignored the threat. She popped the lid of the velvet box. Inside lay a row of hair-thin silver needles and a tiny glass vial filled with dark purple liquid.

"Close your eyes," Evelina ordered. "Relax your facial muscles."

Sterling hesitated for a fraction of a second. The desperate, clawing need to regain his sense of smell won. He leaned back against the leather chair and closed his eyes.

Evelina walked around the massive desk. She stopped right beside his chair. The faint scent of sterile alcohol and sharp, unknown herbs drifted from her clothes.

Her hands moved with blinding speed. She picked up three silver needles. She slid the first one into the Yingxiang acupoint beside his nostril. The second and third followed into hidden nerve clusters near his cheekbones.

Sterling's jawline instantly locked tight, and the knuckles of his fingers turned stark white as they clamped down on the armrests. A sharp, aching pressure exploded deep inside his nasal cavity, but he maintained his rigid posture, refusing to physically flinch.

Evelina pulled the cork from the glass vial. She held the opening directly under his nose.

She pinched the top of the silver needles, twisting them slightly.

"Breathe in. Deep," she commanded.

Sterling's chest expanded. He dragged the air into his lungs.

A violent, burning sensation hit his brain. It was the sharp, stinging scent of raw peppermint mixed with crushed cedarwood. It punched through the dead nerves in his face.

Sterling's eyes snapped open. Shock ripped through his composed features. His chest heaved.

It was the first time in five years he had smelled anything.

Evelina pulled the needles out in one smooth motion. She capped the vial, dropped everything back into the velvet box, and took three steps back to a safe distance. A confident smile rested on her lips.

Sterling's breathing was erratic. He reached out with a shaking hand and grabbed the coffee cup. He brought it to his face and inhaled. The rich, bitter aroma of roasted coffee beans flooded his senses. It was real.

He set the cup down. He looked at Evelina. The disgust was gone. He was looking at a highly valuable asset.

Sterling folded his hands on the desk. The lethal aura returned, but it was controlled now. He looked at the door.

"Doyle. Out. Close the door," Sterling ordered.

The heavy oak door clicked shut. They were completely alone.

Sterling leaned back. He gestured to the leather guest chair opposite his desk.

"Now," Sterling said, his voice low and serious. "Let us discuss the terms of our marriage."