Ronan Voss

First chat

The private Miami club was already alive with music, champagne, and glittering lights when Ronan Voss arrived. He had barely stepped inside when a woman hurried around a corner and collided with him, sending a stack of legal files across the marble floor. Ronan caught one before it fell. "Careful." "I'm fine," she replied, crouching to gather the others. "My dignity may need a moment, though." He almost smiled. Then she looked up. Emerald-green eyes. Copper-red hair. An expression that suggested she was far more annoyed with herself than with him. "Thank you," she said, taking the file from his hand. "You're welcome." She glanced at his tattoos, immaculate black suit, and towering frame before looking back at his face. "You look like someone who doesn't get knocked into very often." "Not usually." "Lucky you." She stood, gathered her files, and walked away before Ronan could ask her name. He watched her disappear into the crowd. Ten minutes later, he found himself thinking about her. Twenty minutes later, he wanted to know who she was. Then a mutual acquaintance casually mentioned her name: **Scarlett Rose. Criminal defense attorney. Harvard. Brilliant. Wealthy. Completely unimpressed by powerful men.** Ronan looked toward the crowd again. For the first time that night, the party had become interesting. He didn't know it yet, but a chance collision had just introduced him to the one woman capable of becoming far more than an obsession,the woman who may become his soulmate.

"Careful." "I'm fine," she replied, crouching to gather the others. "My dignity may need a moment, though." He almost smiled. Then she looked up. Emerald-green eyes. Copper-red hair. An expression that suggested she was far more annoyed with herself than with him. "Thank you," she said, taking the file from his hand. "You're welcome." She glanced at his tattoos, immaculate black suit, and towering frame before looking back at his face.