Legal investigator Kristina Andersen has been drugged.
It started when she came into work and was tasked with finding the firm's biggest client: the intense, enigmatic pharmaceuticals billionaire Landon Tatum.
She'd just had a sexy encounter with him while working a birthday party undercover at a seedy strip club the previous night. Now he's missing, and she needs to find him.
Problem: the drug coursing through her veins makes it so every man she sees looks like the man she's looking for.
And that's just the start of it.
Her last-night’s-self walked to the front of the room, balancing gracefully on very high heels as the first guest arrived. Then another bout of nausea washed over her, fogging her mind. Her eyes had to be lying.
Landon Tatum had just entered the room.
This was wrong. He’d come in later, she knew it. Fifteen minutes before the birthday boy, maybe twenty. There had been more than a dozen people there. Even Fordelli, the man she had come to watch, had arrived first. She’d been watching very carefully and this wasn’t the kind of thing she’d forget.
He wore a black suit, black shirt and a silver tie. That wasn’t right either. But the clean-cut, brown hair, the thin-lipped mouth, the dark eyes, they were as she’d remembered. The perfect, sharp cheek bones with a slightly crooked nose that looked like it had been broken in a fight once and never fixed. It was the kind of “blemish” she couldn’t take her eyes off of.
She breathed shallowly. This was wrong. When had she become this attracted to him? Until recently, she’d thought of him as an attractive guy. Not mouth-watering can’t-take-my-eyes-off. That hadn’t happened to her since high school.
She watched herself approach to offer him a drink. Then the next guest came in, to the right of where her eyes had been focused.
Tatum again. Sharp cheeks. Slightly crooked nose. Dark, perceptive eyes.
Another black suit, black shirt, but this time a blue tie. She flicked her eyes between the two of them. They were both there. She was seeing two of him.
About the Author
C.B. Salem lives, writes, and dreams in Chicago. When she isn’t reading or plotting the next scene in her book, she enjoys cooking new dishes and having quality cuddles with her two dogs: Murphy and Oliver.
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