Bound Beneath His Pain (Dirty Little Secrets, #1) - Stacey Kennedy

Bound Beneath His Pain is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. A Loveswept eBook Original Copyright © 2016 by Stacey Kennedy Excerpt from Tied to His Betrayal by Stacey Kennedy copyright © 2016 by Stacey Kennedy All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York. LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC. This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Tied to His Betrayal by Stacey Kennedy. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition. ebook ISBN 9781101882566 Cover design: Okay Creations Cover photograph: © FXQuadro/Shutterstock randomhousebooks.com v4.1 ep

Contents Cover Title Page Copyright

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Epilogue Dedication Acknowledgments By Stacey Kennedy About the Author The Editor’s Corner Excerpt from Tied to His Betrayal

Chapter 1

Allie “Get here. Pronto. Shit is going down!” There are only three reasons my real estate assistant, Liv Sloan, sent me the vague text on Monday morning. One, the deal for my last clients, who fled the lively Haight-Ashbury area to raise their family in the quiet and quaint Cole Valley district, fell apart. Two, our boss is in a mood. Three, a pair of Liv’s beloved high-heel shoes suffered a wretched death. Stuffed inside the elevator, a block away from Union Square, with rank perfume smells tickling my nose, I wonder over Liv’s message. All three reasons are totally up her alley. She’s dramatic, but in a cute, funny way that I love. When the elevator doors chime open, I ease my way out, entering Richardson Real Estate, and frown. While I love my job, the offices are a whole other thing. They’re in need of a major upgrade, which is the very reason I’m late today. I’d never meet clients in this run-down horror show. I pass the empty waiting room, scrunching my nose against the stale smell hanging in the air, then pick up my pace, turning the corner down the main hallway, finding Liv standing by the watercooler near our cubicles. “You’re not going to believe what’s happened,” she says, practically bursting with energy. “Aliens have invaded Earth?” I offer. “What?” She gives her head a slight shake, her brown curls bouncing on her shoulders. “Guess again.” “Santa came early and brought you new Louboutin shoes?” She gives me a playful nudge, her big, round brown eyes squinting. “Ha, I can only wish! Holt has bought out Richardson.” I pause, waiting for her to say she’s joking. “You’re serious?” She nods. “Very serious.” A knot of worry tightens in my belly then I force myself to go numb. I’m a top-selling agent at Richardson. My job can’t be in jeopardy. This has to be good news, right? Still, I can’t wrap my head around it. Holt has made billions of dollars dealing in commercial properties. Richardson’s sales are only in the multi-millions, with a handful of agents selling middle-income homes. Sure, that’s Richardson’s strength in the San Francisco market, but why would Holt want to add it to their portfolio? Isn’t the middle-class market messy pocket change to them? “What in the world does Holt want with Richardson?” I voice my thoughts. Liv gets herself a drink from the watercooler and then faces me. “From what I gathered, Holt wants to gobble up the entire real estate market. Businesses, high-class homes, middle-class homes; they want it all. Including taking the top agents at Richardson into Holt.” Greedy pricks. They can’t be satisfied having a corner of the market to make their billions, they

need to suck the whole damn thing dry. I lean against the cubicle next to us, my back straight as a pencil. “So, their plan is to swallow Richardson up?” “To be honest, I don’t really know what the plan is.” She leans closer to me and tells me quietly, “They offered me a job at Holt. Which I guess means they’re taking you, too.” “Indeed, that is the plan,” says a strong male voice. Oh, shit! I hesitantly glance sideways and unfamiliar sparkling blue eyes hold mine. “I take it you’re Allison Parker?” the stranger asks. “That’s right,” I reply. “But you can call me Allie.” “It’s nice to meet you, Allie.” He offers a handshake. “I’m Anderson West, COO at Holt.” I admire his blue suit while shaking his hand, thinking not only does this forty-something-year-old man have some serious style, but the Holt staff is very professional. Our own CEO, Henry, is typically found wearing loose-fitting khakis and sweaters to cover an aging midsection. Anderson releases my hand and adds, “I take it Liv has filled you in on what you missed at the meeting.” I smile. “Yes. I’m all caught up.” “Excellent, saves me from repeating myself.” He shoves one hand into his pant pocket, straightening his spine. “As with Liv, we’d like to offer you a position at Holt.” He hands me a sealed white envelope with my name on the front. “Please know that the terms are negotiable. If you want we can discuss—” “Ah, the straggler has finally decided to grace us with her presence.” Another unknown voice booms, from a man who appears to my other side. This one with even a more raspy, gravelly tone. I gulp, realizing who the smooth silky voice must belong to, Micah Holt. His bluish-gray eyes narrow on me and my breath is gone, as the air whooshes out of the room. Everyone in San Francisco knows the famous billionaire, the tabloids make sure of that. This hot playboy is a weekly feature, not that I read the rags that often, but you can’t miss his face plastered on them as you wait in the grocery store lines. Confronted by the real man, I understand why the tabloids are obsessed with him. The power he exudes is magnetizing, raising the hairs on my arms. He owns the space around him, making everyone else disappear. All I know is his sexy-as-hell eyes on me and how that act alone warms me from the inside out. I raise my hand and smile. “Hello, that’s me, I’m Allie, the straggler.” By the arch of his brow, I assume the first impression I’m putting forward surprises him. Which it does me too, as I’m not usually a smart-ass, but he’s rattling me. I’m drawn to him, no matter that I don’t want to be, because I know this guy is a bad idea. And I know that so definitely because I know his type. My half-brother is cut from the same cloth as Micah. I bet he’s a man who works from eight in the morning until eleven at night. He’s probably a guy who only has relationships to financially or sexually benefit him. Regardless of what I know, the instant attraction is rich with velvety promise. One side of his mouth slowly arches in the beginning of a smile and he finally murmurs, “Allie.” A shifting feeling happens near my heart, a pang of sorts, leaving me aware of the delicious burn he’s stirring inside me. Oh, this guy is smooth. He doesn’t say someone’s name; instead, he rolls it off his tongue, savoring the syllables. Micah’s got game, no question, and I realize I’m going to have to

be on my toes around him. Of course part of my problem is that I haven’t dated in over a year and my force field is thinning. Perhaps if I’d listened to Liv and stopped being so damn picky, this guy’s well-played tactics wouldn’t be affecting me. Micah’s hand moves toward me then, his strong fingers clasp mine, and there’s nothing professional about this handshake or my reaction to him. My nipples pucker beneath my bra into hard points and heat pools low in my body. Which by the slight grin on his face, I’m sure he’s well aware. Anderson clears his throat, interrupting a moment that seems to have gone on way too long. “As I was saying to Allie, we can discuss the terms of her offer, if she would like.” Smoky eyes on mine, undressing me where I stand, Micah slowly releases my hand. “Let me handle this negotiation.” He takes the envelope from Anderson. “Please follow me, Allie.” Obviously I’m not the only one surprised, because the look on Anderson’s face tells me this isn’t normal behavior, and Liv notices, too, grinning and winking at me. I roll my eyes at her enjoyment at my expense, and exhale loudly, following Micah into the meeting room, noticing now that some of my peers are watching this parade. Ugh. Get control of yourself, Allie. It’s a guy in a suit. Well, a totally hot guy in a suit, but still a guy that I met a hundred times growing up. Famous. Spoiled. Rich. Arrogant. Not the guy for me. I take my seat at the rectangular office table, inhaling the fragrance à la Robertson—the moldy smell is worse in the conference rooms—reminding myself I’m a professional woman. I’m not one to be charmed by a man who thinks he’s all that. And I won’t let his good looks, charisma, and sexy smile distract me from negotiating my job. He slowly opens his jacket, exposing his wide shoulders and thick chest beneath his black vest, all to tempt me, I’m sure. What’s frustrating is how much it’s beginning to work—my nerve endings tingle, and more and more warmth is sliding down between my thighs. I expect him to begin negotiations, but he asks a question totally out of the blue: “Tell me a bit about yourself.” My belly quivers with the low silky tenor of his voice and the power it has over me. He’s not looking at me. He’s fucking me with his eyes. Each long linger he gives me is like he’s imagining where he’d kiss me. The passion is right there and is so tempting I want to grab the flirtation between us and play with it a while. Boy, do I ever. But I can’t, I remind myself. Micah lives a life I don’t want. A life of privilege that I once lived myself. My mind leaves the meeting room, returning to a past that I wish I could forget. Shortly after my fifteenth birthday, my parents lost their lives in a plane crash. Fortunately, my older by ten years and very rich half-brother swooped in to save me from foster care and took me in. But a life of privilege isn’t the one I want and it’s not the life my mother would’ve wanted for me either. She wanted me to make my own mark on the world, and that’s exactly what I’ve done. It’s the very reason no one at Richardson—even Liv—knew I had millions in a trust fund. I blink into the present, give Micah my most professional smile, and set to answering his question. “I’m twenty-five. Born in San Francisco. I’ve been a real estate agent for five years.” His sculpted lips press tight. “I’m sure you know I didn’t want you to recite your resume.” “Yes, I’m sure I know that, too.” I grin. Judging by his soft chuckle, he’s enjoying the game between us. His playfulness isn’t helping the

weight in my belly, but I need to keep my wits about me. This guy is so wrong for me that I know better than to give him a single flirtatious smile. “We’re all business, then?” he practically purrs. “On to negotiations,” I confirm. He finally breaks eye contact to acquaint himself with the terms of my employment offer before addressing me again. “Please don’t feel nervous or unsure in what you want during these negotiations. I’m here to listen and discuss what you feel you deserve.” Coming from any other guy, this speech would seem sweet and thoughtful. As it is coming from a guy dressed in an expensive tailored black suit, while he is leaning back in his seat, chest out, chin high, I refrain from snorting. Powerful men are all the same. And I certainly don’t need him to hold my hand. “Thank you. That’s very kind.” His eyes narrow at my demure tone of voice, then his mouth twitches. Obviously he sees the amusement in this scenario; not to be shallow, but I am Richardson’s top producer—I think I can “negotiate” a contract. Jeez. I keep silent; he grabs out a pen from his jacket pocket, never taking his eyes off me. I shiver—not from the coolness of the room, but because of his intensity. He exudes a frightening amount of power. And a confidence that I’ve rarely seen in a man his age; if I recall correctly, the tabloids pegged him at thirty-five. The strength he projects seems hauntingly dark. But it’s not a darkness I want to run from. It’s a darkness that draws me in. A darkness that I almost want to absorb. I shake the thoughts from my head. Let’s be logical here, this guy has nothing to offer me except lust. And I want more than that when it comes to a relationship; I want love, trust, and, dare I say, maybe even the white picket fence? Which I suppose explains why I’m still very single. He taps his pen against the paper. “Go ahead and negotiate your terms.” I glance at the document before me, thinking of my very successful half-brother and the lessons he taught me about negotiation. Ask for more than you think you’ll get, because then you’ll end up somewhere in the middle, he once told me. “This is all great, and the health benefits are appreciated,” I say to Micah, keeping my eyes on the papers. “However, I have some conditions besides what I’m seeing here.” “Name them,” he tells me. I note the commission on the papers, which is the same as I get at Richardson—the offer states that I’ll receive 2.5 percent of the purchase price as my commission from the sales, then out of the money I earn on the deal, I’ll give Holt 30 percent as their cut. I’ve done my competitive research over the years, just to make sure I knew what the market would bear should I ever leave Richardson. “In section four where the commission is noted, I want Holt’s commission adjusted from 30 percent to 20 percent of my earnings.” I watch Micah’s brows shoot up and add, “And if you haven’t already given Liv a salary increase, then she’ll need that, too.” A slow, dangerous smile crosses his face. “Anything else to adjust?” I pause, ponder, then shake my head. “No, that’s all.” “You drive a hard bargain,” he says, considering me. Of course I did, my big bro taught me all about business. I figured Micah probably operated the same way. I had to address him with the same intensity he shows me or I won’t get his respect. “It’s not

a bargaining technique,” I correct him, mirroring his slow, dangerous smile. “It’s simply what I deserve based on the market today.” He leans back in his chair, regarding me with a long look. “It seems you have more experience than what I’d originally thought. Where did you work before Richardson?” “Nowhere.” “No internship out of university?” “I never went to university. I started at Richardson right out of high school, then obtained my real estate license.” Well, first I traveled Europe for a year with my best friend, Taylor Erikson, on a trip of self-discovery. The only discovery we made is that I can drink Taylor under the table. I became a real estate agent after working as a receptionist at Richardson, during which time I studied for and obtained my license. But these all are things he doesn’t need to know. His smoky eyes narrow again. “You have no other business experience?” “No, I’m afraid not.” Dammit, I need to dial back the confidence a tad. Everyone has secrets they hold dear and I have mine, too. My past isn’t something I want advertised. “Those are my terms. Are you in agreement?” He taps his fingers against the table and then begins to swirl them in a slow circle against the dark wood, those eyes directly on my face. I’m ashamed by the way my lower body clenches, as I’m wondering how that touch would feel against my naked skin. I force myself to look at his face when he finally addresses me again. “Holt will take 25 percent of your commission, not the 20 percent that you’re asking for or the 30 percent we originally offered. Will that suffice?” I pretend to ponder his offer—25 percent is incredible. “Yes, I’ll agree to that.” He clasps his hands on the table, and I feel like he’s stripping me layer by layer. It’s intrusive, but I’m not opposed to it. More heat spreads through me, tempting me to move a little closer to him. I order myself to stay put when he arches a single brow. “You do realize that you’ll have to deliver high sales to prove you’re worth what you’re asking for.” I nod. “Of course.” And I would prove my worth. Or Liv and I would, I should say. A long moment of silence settles between us. He’s still regarding me, and within his confident stare I feel like he’s hiding something, or at least that’s how it seems. I don’t know exactly what it is, but it’s intriguing nonetheless. His jaw clenches twice before he speaks again. “Well then, let’s hope you can deliver on the promises you are making here.” He moves his pen quickly over the document, changing the terms, and initialing the changes. “You’ll need to bring three signed copies of the offer when you arrive at Holt tomorrow morning.” “Perfect.” I accept the papers from him. “Now, one more thing before we finalize this.” Both of his brows shoot up. I can only guess he’s not used to having anyone dismiss a meeting— which, of course, is exactly why I said it. But the other reason is I’m concerned about my employer. “Before I sign this contract and agree to move to Holt, what is going to happen to Richardson?” By the way he straightens in his seat, I wonder if I hit a nerve. I realize I’m asking a question that is totally none of my business, and when he folds his arms, closing himself off to me, I become a little nervous about his answer. “You’re worried about a company you’re considering leaving?”

I can’t get a read on him. His expression is showing very little, so I reply, “Richardson gave me my start. The way I see it, I owe it some loyalty. And I want to know what your plans are.” He’s watching me closely; a section of his jet-black stylish hair falls free. “Why does it matter? Richardson’s clients will be moved to Holt and all deserving employees will be hired on in some capacity.” “Exactly my point,” I fire back. “What makes them deserving? Is your decision based on how much they made last year?” Finally there’s a crack in his unreadable expression, and I can tell by the widening of his eyes that my question surprises him. “What they bring into the company is taken into consideration.” He pauses, and his attention lingers a little too long on me, like he’s sizing me up. “Would you expect it not to be?” “In business, I do expect that,” I say with a shrug. “But what if they had a bad year? Take Sandy, she’s a longtime agent for Richardson—she lost her husband this past year and has been struggling.” His lips part, but I continue before he can cut me off. “Another employee, Jacob, recently found out that his young daughter has cancer. These are things that you don’t know about the people who work here. So, yes, I’m asking what will happen to them.” He scrapes his fingers across his square jaw, and I notice his face is ridiculously chiseled, like the rest of him. “Your concern here is that your friends—” “They’re not my friends,” I correct him. He snorts softly. “You’re this worried about co-workers?” “Yes.” Because if I didn’t say this now no one would. Micah is intimidating. I’m experienced at handling men like Micah and ensuring they don’t railroad people. These are things that need to be said, because Sandy and Jacob both deserve to keep their jobs, regardless that they had low sales last year. Money isn’t everything. His finger continues to stroke his chin from left to right when he asks, “If I say I plan on dismantling Richardson and can’t save every job, you would refuse to move to Holt, even if that means you would lose your job?” “Yes.” “Why?” I can tell he’s honestly interested, not judging me, so I’m bluntly honest with him. “I refuse to work for a company that can’t see past the bottom line and doesn’t care for its employees and treat them as people.” He’s watching me again, and yet he’s completely unreadable. He wants inside my head, I’m sure of it, and I feel, for this second, that if I let him in he’ll awaken me in ways I’ve never known. I’m tempted to reach across the table and— A knock on the door jerks my focus there, finding Anderson peeking his head inside the meeting room. “Yes?” he drawls. I’m reeling, fighting my way back from the promise of satisfaction in Micah’s eyes, and trying to understand how in the hell he alerted Anderson that he needed him, when Micah rises from his chair. “Instruct the team to stop dismantling the company. Tell them to give me a report on Richardson’s financials ASAP. And keep all Richardson staff on board here, unless anyone willingly wants to move

to Holt.” Anderson frowns, stepping farther into the office. “Didn’t you say shut down this—” “You heard me.” Eyes still intent on me, with that sexy little arch curving the side of his mouth, Micah asks me, “I’ll see you at Holt tomorrow, Allie?” “You will,” is all I can say. And just like that, he’s gone, and I’m alone, dragging in heavy breaths through my mouth. The tabloid headlines at the grocery store spoke of Micah as being ruthless. But that’s not the guy I met today. Charming and seductive seems like an impenetrable armor to mask a certain dark intensity about him. I press my hands flat on the table, hoping the coolness of the wood eases the fire in my veins. My nerve endings are tingling. My panties are soaking wet. But there’s a truth I cannot ignore besides the heat he awakens inside of me. Men like Micah don’t do something out of the goodness of their heart. He made this choice because I asked him to. This is his leverage over me. And now I owe him.

Chapter 2

Micah An hour later and back at Holt, I stride down the hallway, away from my corner office, and reach the meeting room far from the hustle and bustle of the reception area. Through the glass wall separating the meeting room from the hallway, I see three men sitting on the black leather swivel chairs around the racetrack-shaped steel conference table. Behind them, the two exterior windows face the Golden Gate Bridge, and the shining sun is glistening off the steel today. When I open the glass door and enter the meeting room, the group of men are in a casual conversation and greet me with nods. I take my seat in the chair at the head of the table, facing the men I consider friends. But our long friendship isn’t the only thing that binds us. We’re the sole owners of the four sex clubs in the city, and in the dark rooms of our clubs, we’re better known as the Dominants’ Council (DC). Few know of our true identity and we like it that way. But even as I sit here now, I realize that I don’t think of my position as owner in the DC as I once had. My decisions are no longer based on privacy or on how to get my kinky sex fix, but are based on financial choices. And from recent conversations, I can only guess the men around me feel the same way. “Before we begin with business,” Gabe O’Keefe announces, after the door closes tightly, secluding us from the well-accessed hallway. Holt’s offices and meeting rooms might have glass walls showing us off to all passersby, but the seals around the door ensures us our privacy. “You, my friend, have a problem,” he says to Ryder. “Do I, now?” Ryder Blackwood scrapes a hand over his buzzed-cut dirty blond hair. “What kind of problem?” “A serious one, I’m afraid.” Gabe offers him a file folder. Ryder glances through the papers within, looking a bit disturbed. “Unbelievable.” “What’s going on?” Darius Bennett asks, leaning closer toward the documents, his brows drawn over his chocolate brown eyes. Ryder offers Darius the folder. “Hadley Winters, the daughter of the Senator I guard, is playing at Gabe’s club.” Ryder made his multi-millions creating the best security detail in North America, but he still likes being in the field and getting his hands dirty. Darius scans the picture before handing the file to me. I find the photo is of a beautiful blond woman, who’s blindfolded, gagged, and bound to a St. Andrew’s Cross. Angry whip lashings cover nearly every inch of her body. I sympathize with Ryder ’s position immediately. It’s his responsibility to ensure Senator Winters is safe and his reputation falls under that umbrella, I’m sure. Though at the same time, I have other thoughts on the matter. I narrow my focus on the woman’s face in the picture. She looks to be in her mid-twenties, therefore legally allowed to be in Gabe’s club. “Besides that Hadley is Senator Winters’s daughter, I’m not seeing a problem here.” “Look at the next page,” Gabe states. I flip the photo over, finding a document stating that Hadley has been written up twice at Gabe’s club for unsafe behavior. Gabe’s more involved in his club than the rest of us. Ryder, Darius, and I all

handed over control of our clubs to someone within whom we trusted to handle day-to-day business, though Gabe remained the go-to guy for his club. “I’m worried for her well-being,” Gabe says softly. “She’s beyond reckless. Twice now they’ve pulled her from a scene because she’s not safe-wording out when she should be. I watched a video of her, and believe me when I say she’s not playing safe.” He gives Ryder a knowing look. “Hadley is protected in my club. But one more instance like this and she’ll be banned.” Ryder draws in a deep breath before speaking. “She shouldn’t be there to begin with. If TMZ got ahold of this…” Posture stiff, he rubs the back of his neck. “When did she join Afterglow?” “A month ago.” Gabe takes the folder from me and places it in front of him, lifting a brow at Ryder. “What do you want me to do with her?” Ryder taps his thumb against the table in a steady rhythm. Then, “Until I can figure all this out, are there any men at Afterglow you trust implicitly?” Gabe nods. “A couple, yes.” “Perhaps, then”—Ryder frowns at the folder in front of Gabe with clear fierceness, almost a protective edge even—“as a punishment for being written up twice, order her to only play with the men you trust, in a private room. Keep her as secluded as possible.” “Done,” Gabe agrees, pushing his dark brown, unruly hair out of his face. Ryder leans back in his seat and I can see his mind is elsewhere. Which only reminds me how glad I am not to worry over Lace and the day-to-day goings-on. I can deal with money. I can fix business problems. I’m not very good at emotional issues that you inevitably have to deal with at our businesses. Unless it has to do with a sweet little treat named Allie. She is something I’ll happily deal with. “All right, Micah,” Darius says, breaking me away from my thoughts. “Tell us what unfolded with this pushy oil tycoon out of Texas.” I shove Allie from my mind for now, focusing on the reason for our meeting today, and report, “Craig Harrington attempted to purchase the nightclub Elements the other day, and word on the street was he planned to open a rival club. I bested his offer and stole the deal out from under him.” Ryder says, “We might have to bring Craig in and discuss the matter, if he continues to pursue opening a club.” His emerald green eyes sharpen as he leans back in his chair with his fingers laced behind his head. “But I’m not sure it would be in our best interests to let him know how involved we are.” “I agree,” says Darius, “It could backfire.” His face becomes stern as he slaps a hand on the table. “That said, I’m glad you took care of him, Micah.” I nod and smile. “Demolition starts in a couple weeks and a shopping center will occupy that space.” “You didn’t steal the property away,” Gabe says with laugh. “You eliminated it. Way to prove a point.” I do it to protect us. No one in this room wants a sex scandal about our preference for the darker delights of sex, or to give anyone the chance to blackmail us. Which are all things that come with fame and power. Besides, the sex industry is a booming business, and none of us wants to lose the money flowing in from our clubs. “With that out of the way,” Darius says, his eyes scanning the faces in the room, “do we have any

other matters to discuss?” Once Ryder and Gabe answer with a silent shake of their heads, I speak up. “Now’s a good time to review our plans for next quarter.” We’ve never competed with one another. And we won’t. Not ever. “Lace’s management has told me they’re doing an erotic circus theme over the next few months.” Gabe smacks his hand on the table. “You’re such a lucky bastard having the people you do working for you. Their ideas are brilliant.” “It’s not luck.” I grin at him. “It’s skill in hiring the right people.” He snorts. Gabe and I were roommates during our time at Harvard, and we were also the original members of the DC. A healthy competition streak is the bones of our long friendship. He tilts his chair back, stretching out his arms, addressing the others now. “Afterglow is opening its doors to swingers once a week, hoping to gain more members that way. We’re also doing submissive auctions every weekend, too. So, no competition from us.” Darius adds, “Masquerade is hosting Shibari events, so no conflict there for us.” “And you?” I ask Ryder. “No events for Impulse,” Ryder replies, glancing once more at the folder before looking at me. “I’ve been told the club is going back to basics and holding newbie nights teaching everything from bondage for beginners to the understanding of the power exchange.” He smiles, showing off his deep dimples. “My manager says he needs some new innocent skin to brighten up his life.” Laughter fills the room. It’s odd, I admit to myself. Years ago, I would’ve felt a rush over the thought of Shibari and even about a new submissive to enjoy. Now I’d seen it all. I’d done it all. The high had faded long ago. Though I can’t help but notice I felt a similar high with Allie today. I’m pretty damn sure I’ve never met any woman who’s smart and humble, strong and sweet, sexy and innocent, loyal and adamant, all at the same time. She’s a giant contradiction. I like contradictions, because I’m one myself. The beeping intercom breaks into my thoughts before my assistant Neil’s voice sounds through the meeting room. “Excuse the interruption, sir. Your eleven o’clock is waiting for you in your office.” I press the button on the intercom. “Thank you, Neil.” Then I rise from my seat and address the others, “This appointment can’t wait.” “Ten grand that this appointment looks great in skirts,” Gabe says with a laugh. “She doesn’t look great…” I move to the door and open it, looking over my shoulder. “…she looks fantastic in them.” I exit the meeting room hearing the masculine laughter fading with the door closing. I pick up my pace, moving around the corner, finding Neil zoomed in on his monitor, totally unaware of my arrival. He’s speaking into the phone. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Holt has meetings this afternoon. He can see you tomorrow morning.” I hired Neil a year ago after I officially gave up on hiring female assistants. The young females were either a distraction to me or I was a distraction to them. The middle-aged women were all bearing children and I went through two maternity leaves that left me with terrible temps as a replacement. And it seemed unfair to hire older women because of the stressfulness of managing my schedule, which is basically my life, too. So then I found Neil and haven’t looked back.

When I enter my office, I immediately spot the leggy blonde staring out at the view of the Financial District. “Hello, Juliet,” I say, announcing my arrival. She spins on her heels, giving me the luscious smile that I’ve appreciated for the last three years. “Good morning, Micah.” My chest lightens, as it always does in her presence. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.” I wave out toward the black leather couches in the sitting area of my office. “Please sit.” Juliet takes her seat, settling her red dress over her knees, and smiles. “So, who is the lovely lady who’s stolen you away from me?” I lower into the chair opposite her, arching a brow. “How do you know that’s why I called you here?” She gives me a level look. “Because it’s the only reason you call me into Holt, Micah.” I chuckle. Juliet knows me well, probably better than anyone, maybe even better than I know myself. In her world, she’s a woman who plays a submissive role to men and enjoys kinky sex rather than regular sex. In my world, she’s a thirty-two-year-old stunning woman who has integrity and is loyal to me. I have no doubt that most Holt employees think Juliet is my sister. But she’s not family, not even close. Juliet lets me live out the very darkest of my fantasies with her. There’s nothing she prevents me from pursuing. With her, I don’t tame the beast inside. I indulge him. What I give her is complete honesty, total trust, and a stable man in her life that she once told me she needed, since her father abandoned her and left her with emotional trust issues. That’s why when a new woman comes into my life that holds my interest, Juliet is the first to know. That’s our promise to each other. She flips her long curled blond locks over her shoulders. “So, get to it and tell me about this new lady in your life.” I lean back against the couch, propping my shoes on the edge of the glass coffee table between us, crossing one ankle over the other. “She isn’t in my life yet.” Juliet’s red-painted lips curve into a sly smile. “Already calling me to take a break without even a date set. I’m intrigued. Tell me more.” I ponder the woman I met today, deciding what to tell Juliet. Allie’s sharp and clever personality holds my interest, as does her sweet and gentle heart, but it’s the way she melted under my watchful eye that captivates me most. She’s responsive to me, and even now my cock is hardening remembering the way her cheeks flushed and her nipples became hard points beneath her thin blouse. Things I don’t need to share with Juliet. “She would impress you.” Juliet’s brows arch over her light blue eyes. “How so?” “She’s loyal.” “That’s rare,” Juliet acknowledges. “It is,” I agree, and I value loyalty. Most people in my world would turn on me in a second flat to get my money. “Today she changed my mind from dismantling a company to saving it.” “Interesting.” “Precisely,” is all I have to say. Because it’s unlike me to change my mind, and I don’t have to tell Juliet that. I never make decisions based on emotion. I make them based on profit. But today I hadn’t.

I slide my fingers across the smooth leather armrest, trying to figure Allie out, knowing all I really need to know is how she cracked my defenses. I know she’s beautiful, pure, untainted, but I don’t know why she shakes my legendary discipline. I also know I’m not going to get those answers today. “Moving on,” I say, pushing those thoughts aside. “Any reports from Lace?” I had appointed Juliet CEO of Lace six months after we decided to stop dating and simply sleep together casually, with the agreement that she tells me only what I need to know. I pay her five times what the job is worth and doubled what she made as a therapist, plus sinful bonuses whenever the club has a good quarter. Deep down, I know Juliet took the job because I asked her to, because that’s what she does for me. She gives me what I need when I need it. And she takes joy in doing that for me, it’s the nature of her submissive personality. I take care of her financially because that’s what I can give her. She never expects more, and that’s what makes our relationship work. “All is well at Lace,” she reports. “The erotic circus is shaping up nicely. We’re putting on a couple shows that I imagine will draw in many curious new minds, which I expect will bring more memberships.” “Good.” There’s not much more to say on the matter. I gave Juliet complete control of the club and I’m pleased with whatever she decides. I rise and Juliet follows, as I ask, “What are your plans now?” “Well, now that I have a little freedom,” she says, straightening her skirt, “I plan to visit Lace’s private room tonight.” “Sounds promising.” I follow her as she approaches the doorway. Once there, she turns to face me and laughs softly. “I imagine it will be.” She places her hand gently on my arm. “Don’t forget to be yourself on this new adventure.” I lean in and kiss her cheek. “Goodbye, Juliet.” I avoid discussing whatever she thinks we should talk about. I’m only myself with Juliet, and she knows this. “Goodbye, Micah,” she says with a sweet smile. I watch her walk down the hallway toward the reception desk, noticing the sway in her hips. Juliet’s devoted to me. She’s there when I need her. But perhaps she’s been too loyal to me, and maybe she’s excited for the chance to return to the dungeons of Lace. Not me. The darkness within is calm, quietly resting.

Chapter 3

Allie I hurry by a sidewalk café in the heart of the Financial District, stomach rumbling, and regret not having time to grab a coffee for Liv and me this morning. Traffic got in my way and getting to Holt’s parking lot took longer than expected. Caffeine is my only recourse for my loss of sleep, and my tossing and turning last night. A certain hunk in a suit made several appearances in my dreams. But a quick hot shower washed the remnants of “erotic dream” Micah away. Now here I am heading down Montgomery Street, briefcase in hand, skyscrapers on either side. The hustle and bustle of people is not unusual for this time of day and I’m happy to reach the highrise on the corner and get out of this rat race. The building is really breathtaking, towering over the city, the dark glass sheathing it adorned with huge silver letters, spelling Holt Enterprises. To the average passerby the building gives the impression that this is a profitable and imposing company. It’s a lot for even me to comprehend, as is the fact that I work for Micah. You’ve got this, I tell myself, pushing my shoulders back, entering the lobby with a fast-paced stride. Glass encases the open foyer all the way to the ceiling and the balconies on each floor. Leather couches and glass tables are occupied with chatting people enjoying their coffee. I inhale deeply through my nose, exhaling through my mouth, moving toward the security guard to introduce myself. Before I can reach him, Anderson intercepts me. “Good morning,” he says with a wide grin. His navy blue suit is as stylish as yesterday’s, and I smile, glad that I chose a black pencil skirt and vintage-style off-white blouse to wear. “Mornin’.” “Before I take you up, we need to get you all signed in,” Anderson says, turning to the security guard sitting behind the large black desk, five computer monitors in front of him. “Allie is a new employee at Holt.” “Ah, yes, I have everything for you here. One moment…” The guard types on his keyboard before handing me an envelope with my name written on the front. “Carry your identification with you at all times. It’s an annoying process if you forget it.” “Will do,” I reply, thinking Micah must be a control freak. Holt sells real estate, doesen’t deal with government secret projects. The security seems a bit over the top. Keeping the thought to myself, I follow Anderson through the large foyer and take in the sheer luxury of the offices. Black glass on the exterior walls, dark marble floors beneath my feet, a staircase running up the middle of the lobby with six glass elevators moving from floor to floor, all full of people. The building reminds me of Micah himself: sleek and sexy. A slight heaviness weighs in my belly and I grip my briefcase a little tighter, staying behind Anderson as he enters one of the glass elevators and waves me inside. “Liv arrived about twenty minutes ago,” he tells me, as the doors shut. I press myself against the glass at my back, feeling like a sardine stuffed in a can. “I’m not

surprised. She’s punctual.” He smiles genuinely. “How long have you worked together?” “Five years.” I restrain my gasp as the elevator shoots up and glance behind me, noticing the people in the foyer are now just a blur. Heights are right up there with my least favorite things in life, so I look straight ahead, staring at the back of the head of the guy in front of me. We pass floor by floor, stopping at each as people enter or leave the elevator. Everyone is dressed in the latest fashions, looking very professional. My mouth goes dry as realization hits me hard. This place and the people seem a lot like the life I experienced with my half-brother. Pushing my distaste aside, I remind myself that I worked hard for this promotion, making me feel a little better about my decision and the surroundings. Besides, Liv deserves a promotion too, and that makes this all worth it. I follow Anderson out of the elevator, onto the sixtieth floor. The fact that there are sixty-one floors noted on the elevator panel tells me that Micah and his group of yes-men are likely located on the top floor. The thought of him flutters through my mind, as does the heat in my veins. I can’t shake the haunting darkness I saw in his eyes; the darkness that makes me curious about him; the darkness that ignites my body; the darkness that screams of immense power and sensuality. God, I’m in so much trouble with that guy. We’re only separated by one floor, and I can’t deny the anticipation coursing through me at the thought of seeing him again, no matter that my mind is also chec king off all the reasons I shouldn’t want him. The elevator doors shut behind me, breaking me out of my thoughts, and I take one step into the office, my mind instantly going fuzzy. Three receptionists are sitting behind an all-glass desk. To the left, I find the waiting area full of clients, seated in white leather chairs. To the right is a long hallway lined with offices. “Wow,” I breathe. Anderson nods. “That’s most people’s reaction when they first visit Holt. The building is impressive.” Impressive is an understatement. The modern offices, at least three times the size of the ones at Richardson, are furnished with dark glass desks, a Mac computer on each, and white leather swivel chairs. We pass by the receptionists, who are busy on the telephones, and I’m feeling a little out of my element by the time Anderson stops and I find Liv, sitting on a white leather couch against the wall in our office. She gives a small yelp when she sees me. “Dude! We have died and gone to real estate heaven.” I try to respond, but my voice is stuck, reveling in my new workplace. From ceiling to floor, windows cover the back wall, showing the skyscrapers in San Francisco’s Financial District. With the sunny day and fluffy clouds, the view belongs on a freakin’ postcard. “Wow,” I breathe again, which appears to be all I can say. Anderson approaches Liv’s desk, positioned close to the door. “Micah thought you would like Liv in the office with you, since you two work closely together, so we set you up in one of the larger offices.” He taps the desk with two fingers, pausing to examine me. “Is that all right?” A flush of adrenaline tingles through me. Micah made special requests for me? Well, in this case, he’s not wrong. I do like Liv close by. “I couldn’t ask for more,” I tell Anderson. “Truly. This office is perfect.” “Oh, it’s so much more than that,” Liv purrs, rising from the couch and taking her seat behind her

desk, running her hands over the dark glass. “This office is sexy.” I chuckle at my very happy assistant, then glance at Anderson, who’s laughing at her, too. He eventually turns to me. “This morning we thought you could get acquainted with our system. We’ve already set up a meeting at two o’clock this afternoon for you and your first clients, at a restaurant called The Vault. Do you know it?” “Yes, I do.” I reply, having eaten there many times. “But wait. You set up the meeting? Isn’t it my job to find the clients?” Anderson’s grin is sweet, trusting. “Not at Holt. Here, clients come to us.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope. “Before I forget, here’s your company credit card. It’s not unusual for clients to request meetings over breakfast, lunch, or dinner—five-star restaurants are mandatory when entertaining clients.” I accept the envelope, then Anderson addresses both Liv and me. “Enjoy your day, ladies.” I wait for Anderson to be out of hearing distance before saying to Liv, “This place is a freakin’ dream come true.” “I know,” Liv mutters, still stroking the glass on her desk. “It’s a perfect new home for us.” I give my head a slight shake. “Did you ever think we’d end up”—I wave my hands around the office—“here?” “Hell no.” Liv grins, eyes twinkling. “But I’m glad we did.” She pauses to study me, her eyes narrowing a little. “By the way, did you have anything to do with my raise?” “Maybe.” I smile. “Thought so.” Liv smiles back. “I was happy with what they offered me yesterday. But Anderson had me sign a new employment contract this morning, with a better salary. So, thanks for that.” “Were they good to you?” Liv nods. “Very.” “I’m glad.” There are thousands of assistants. But there’s only one Liv. And she deserves to be paid well. I move farther into our office, passing the two sleek leather chairs in front of my desk, and then take my seat, staring at the doorway that Anderson had exited. My lungs expand to their fullest with a deep satisfied breath when I turn to stare out at the high-rise next to ours. Five years I put in at Richardson, and now, here at Holt, I have a dream job most agents would kill for. The thought vindicates my lack of love life. At least I have a spectacular job now, instead of a decent job and no sex life. “So…” Liv drawls, turning me away from the window. Her chin is resting on her hand, eyes dancing. “Are we going to finally talk about the fireworks between you and Micah yesterday?” I hastily avoid looking at her and begin setting up my Mac. “Nope, ’cause there were no fireworks.” I’d dodged that particular question from her all day yesterday. Apparently, my luck had run out. “Right,” Liv says. “So all that intensity bouncing between you two is normal everyday stuff.” “Yup.” I give a firm nod. “Totally normal.” “You’ve never been a good liar,” she says dryly. “You know this, right?” “Yup. I know that, too.” I grin.

This is why I love Liv. Somehow we mix personal and professional flawlessly. She’s not only my go-to girl for all things work related, but she’s my go-to girl for a seriously fun night out. “Excuse me. Allie?” The smooth voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I glance at the door, finding a slender man entering the office. Liv gives me a knowing grin, and the large bouquet of flowers in our visitor ’s hands isn’t the reason for it. The man’s shoes, obsessively shiny, are nicer than mine. He dresses better than me too, in a perfectly tailored gray suit with a dark blue tie. His eyebrows are tweezed to perfection and his spiky blond hair doesn’t have a strand out of place. This guy is pretty. I smirk at Liv and then say to the man, “Yes, I’m Allie.” “I’m Neil, Mr. Holt’s assistant.” He places the flowers on my desk, laugh lines creasing the corners of his baby blue eyes. “These are for you.” “Wow. Flowers from the boss,” Liv says to Neil. “Is this something Mr. Holt always does for new employees?” She’s totally digging to prove me wrong about the “fireworks.” Her sly smile gives her away. “Oh, no.” Neil chuckles in a cute sort of way that nearly brings a smile to my face. “This is a first, believe me. You must have made an impression.” Liv lifts a brow at me and smirks. “Oh, yeah, no fireworks at all.” I roll my eyes at her and pluck the card out from the flowers. Allie— Welcome to Holt. —Micah When I look up at Neil, I find him grinning stupidly at me like this should have me happy dancing. I bite the inside of my cheek, glancing at Liv to see what she might be thinking. Of course, her smile mirrors Neil’s. Tightness swells in my chest. God, I’m so tempted to fall into Micah’s flirtation. I’m still tormented by the way he looked at me. The dark promises I swear he can deliver on tempt me. But there’s a long list of why this is a bad idea. The biggest reason being that the man I want in my life would deliver the flowers to me himself instead of sending his assistant. I rise from my seat and bring the bouquet to Neil. “Please thank Mr. Holt for the gift, but take them back and tell him not to send anything like this again.” Neil’s eyes bulge, his skin pales. “I can’t do that!” “Oh, sure you can.” I give him a light push on the back, noting the softness of his jacket and trying to decide if it’s cotton or something else, while I ease him out of my office. “Thanks for bringing them by, though. It’s great to meet you.” Neil leaves the office muttering something I don’t understand. The moment he’s on his way, Liv snaps, “It’s happened. You’ve lost your goddamn mind.” I chuckle. “Nope. My mind is good. Promise.” “Then why did you do that?” I return to my desk, coming up with another reason besides my earlier ones for not taking Micah up on his offer. I need my relationship with Liv; the thought of us changing terrifies me. She knows

me as Allie, a real estate agent who has worked for her success and who doesn’t have a million dollars in her bank account. I never want her view of me to change. “I did that because I want to be known as the woman who refused flowers from Micah. I don’t want to be known as the girl who maybe got the job because the boss likes her.” Liv grins from ear to ear. “She finally admits it.” I give her another well-deserved eye roll and half shrug. “Who knows what his intention is, but you know women—that’s exactly what they’ll think. It’s not professional of him to send me flowers.” Liv gazes at me with focus until her shoulders slump. “You’re right. Catty bitches will so think that.” I nod in agreement. “We’ve got a new start here. I’d like to avoid the catty bitches, if possible.” I cross my legs while the computer screen comes to life. Dating Micah isn’t like dating any guy. The tabloids would unearth all my secrets and take away my privacy, because that’s what happens when you date Micah Holt. Just because he has a dark seduction that draws me in and a powerful presence that soaks my panties doesn’t mean he’s worth the risk. At least not yet, echoes in my heart. I shake that particular thought from my mind and get down to business. “Let’s forget about the flowers and see about figuring out this new system so we can make magic happen.” Liv gives me her go-getter smile. “That is what we do best.”

Micah I enter my favorite restaurant in the Financial District, The Vault, waving off the hostess as she approaches me. The modern design with dark wood tables and white linens, the delicious cuisine, and the professional staff are all the reasons I visit this restaurant as often as possible. I pass by the tables heading around the right side of the restaurant, noting a few women giving me appreciative glances before I reach my destination in the far corner of the room. Holt’s clients Peter and Jenny Lowe are chatting real estate, but my eye goes to the stunning brunette captivating them. I get why—Allie captivates me in the same way. It’s not only her long straight hair that shines against the light or her hourglass figure or her stunning crystal blue eyes; it’s the energy she projects and the kindness exuding from her. She’s magnetizing and I can see I’m not the only one pulled in. When I reach the table, I hear Jenny saying, “We want a big backyard with a pool, but maybe that’s a want, not a need. We could always put one in later. Right, honey?” Peter nods, almost absentmindedly, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “Of course, sweetheart.” Jenny’s smile brightens and her lips part to respond, when she notices me. “Oh, Micah. Hello.” Peter rises instantly, offering his hand. “We weren’t expecting you this afternoon.” In the last five years, Peter and I have done two business transactions together, to buy property to expand two different locations in the city. “Peter, Jenny,” I say, returning his handshake. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.” While my presence here would surely delight Peter and Jenny, making them feel special since I never personally meet with residential clients, my coming here has nothing to do with them. I glance at the reason, finding Allie’s head tilting to the side, her pouty lips pursed. “Hello, Allie,” I say. Tone uncertain, she replies, “Good afternoon, Mr. Holt.” The way she addresses me and assesses me with a long look arches my mouth. She’s trying to ascertain my motive and figure me out. I like how she’s clever and suspicious of me. I enjoy the challenge she presents. Yet it’s those eyes of hers that get me. They’re what broke my defenses yesterday. They’re warm…and yet full of secrets that I need to find out. But that’s not all I want or all I plan to take from her. I want her beneath me, writhing in the pleasure I give her. I want her screaming my name in the throes of passion. I want those pouty lips wrapped around my cock with her soulful eyes watching me. I will get what I want. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m joining you.” “Of course not.” She smiles. “You’re more than welcome, but I’m afraid we’ve already had lunch.” I watch the way she flicks her hair over her shoulder, exposing its bareness to me, tempting me to run my fingers along such soft-looking skin. “That’s fine. I ate earlier.” I take a seat across from Allie and next to Peter, nodding her on. “Please continue.” Not missing a beat, Allie turns to Jenny and her smile warms further. I realize the smile she’d given me was polite not genuine. Heat rises in my body, my chest tightening. The warmth in her grin is infectious. I want that warmth for myself.

“You were saying you wanted a pool,” Allie says to Jenny. “But it’s not a deal breaker, right?” Jenny nods, placing her hands on the table, showing off the diamonds decorating her fingers. “Yes, exactly.” Interesting. I cock my head, noticing how Allie doesn’t even respond to all the bling being flaunted in front of her. Yesterday she intrigued me with her sharp mind, loyalty, and the way her presence hardened my cock the second I set eyes on her. Today I’m even more convinced she’s something special and someone I want in a very lewd way. This woman shines, and I like things that sparkle. “Okay, I think I’ve got it…” Allie taps her pen against the paper in her notebook, resting on the table, her voice steady, low-pitched. “You want a vintage-style home with a pool—but that’s not a deal breaker—and you’d like six bedrooms, plus a great space for entertaining.” She lifts her head, giving both Peter and Jenny direct eye contact. “Have I got everything right?” “Yes, exactly.” Jenny smacks her hands on the table, showcasing her jewels once again, obviously trying to obtain a reaction from Allie. “That’s precisely what we want. Right, dear?” Peter nods, eyes flat, bored. “Yes, of course.” Allie looks away from Peter and chews on her lip before lifting her head, looking directly at him. “Mr. Lowe, I’ll do all I can to find Jenny the perfect house, and make sure she’s very happy.” Peter ’s brows lift. “I appreciate your care and dedication.” And I can see that he’s glad it won’t be a giant headache for him. I cross my arms, watching the exchange, in awe of Allie and her customer care. In less than two minutes she summarizes the wants and needs of her clients, letting them see she’s eager to please. The Lowes’ smiles indicate she’s won them over. Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on the table, soft conversations going on in the restaurant around us as I focus on Allie. She’s different. There’s a light about her I can’t ignore. A spell of sorts that’s weaving over me and I can’t run from its grip. “I’ll get started on this today,” Allie says, breaking into my thoughts. “Are you both free tomorrow morning for some viewings?” “Oh, yes,” Jenny interjects, grabbing her Gucci purse off the back of her chair. “We are—” “I’m afraid I have meetings all morning.” Peter frowns at his wife. Allie glances between Peter and Jenny before offering, “How about Jenny and I take a look at the houses and then I can send you a video of any she likes.” Peter smiles, rising from his seat. “Yes, that should work.” I’m unable to look away from Allie. Her passion for the job is evident in her eyes, something that I remember once seeing in myself. There was a time when my decisions weren’t solely based on financial gain. Peter extends his hand to me. I rise from the table and we shake on the deal. “Pleasure to do businesses again, Peter.” He gestures at Allie and says quietly, “Got a good one there.” I nod in agreement, glancing at Allie as she smiles at Jenny, saying goodbye. I’m not sure what it is about this woman that holds my attention so intently. But I want to know more about her. Like, where do I touch her to make that smile center on me. “Goodbye, Micah.” Jenny offers her hand to me, giving me a smile and a lascivious wink. “Goodbye.” I offer her a cold, firm nod so there’s no confusion, reluctantly returning her

handshake. She lifts her chin, a defensive move, I’m sure in response to my rejection, and follows Peter out of the restaurant. “Did I pass your test?” I turn, watching Allie bend over, giving me a fine view of her ass as she grabs her briefcase off the floor. Damn. My fingers twitch to slap such a perfectly round bottom. When she faces me, I lift my eyes to her face. “Test?” “That’s why you showed up today, isn’t it?” She closes her notepad, placing her pen on top of it, and wrinkles her brow at me. “To see for yourself that I’m worthy of my new position?” “Actually, no, that isn’t the reason,” I reply, voice hard. “But what I saw here today does impress me. I see why you were the top seller at Richardson. You’ve got a talent for handling clients.” Her eyes go wide for a split second, but she recovers quickly, placing her notebook in her bag. “If you’re not here to check up on me, then why are you?” Ah, a good question indeed. I don’t know all the reasons that had me asking Liv where Allie was this afternoon, but I’m beginning to get better insight into why this woman is busting through my defenses, making me want her desperately, cracking down unbreakable armor. “Can I ask you something?” “Actually, I really need to—” I see how she’s nibbling her lip and how she’s looking everywhere but at me. Yeah, girl…I want to nibble that lip as much as you want me to. “Your boss wants to ask you a question, you don’t want to annoy him, do you?” I interrupt. She snorts, lifting her head, giving me a small smile. “Using that one on me, are you? Clever.” “Thank you.” I return the smile, inhaling deeply, catching hints of her flowery perfume. She’s clearly strong in her opinions, soft to those she cares about, and fiercely loyal. All of those reasons drew me to her, but there’s something more to her—something that even now makes my cock rockhard. “So again, can I ask you something?” She heaves a long sigh, resting her hands on her briefcase, atop the table. “What do you want to know?” “Are you dating anyone?” “No.” “Well now, that’s interesting,” I comment. She pauses, then asks, dryly, “Why is that so interesting?” “Because I would think a single woman would be happy to receive flowers from me.” Her eyes widen, and her skin flushes a bright red. “Is that why you came here? To find out why I refused your flowers?” I nod. “Yes.” “Unbelievable,” she whispers beneath her breath. Her pretty eyes narrow, and she zips up her briefcase before addressing me again. “Let me get this straight: you’re man enough to come and find out why I refused your flowers, but you aren’t man enough to deliver the flowers to me yourself?” “Ah, so that’s what this is all about,” I murmur, now understanding. No woman has ever refused a gift from me. “You like the personal touch, hmm?” Her lips part, and I’m expecting her to elaborate on her strong point of view. In fact, I’m hoping

she will. These are things I need to know about her. It’s the way inside her head, and is exactly where I want to be. Instead, she says in a cold tone, “Mr. Holt, let’s keep this a professional relationship. Is there anything else I can do for you?” A few things come to mind, involving those pouty lips of hers. But I’m more concerned about why she’s so adamant to shut me out. I never deny myself lust, and I don’t understand why anyone would. “You can stop pretending this is just professional, Miss Parker.” She looks away. Ah, a crack in her strength, vulnerability, indication of our shared attraction. When she glances at me again, she steps back from the table, her cheeks flushed deeper. “It can only be professional.” “Why? Because I’m your boss?” “Yes.” Her chin lifts, letting me know she’s not a pushover. “Sending me flowers at work is not appropriate. The last thing I need is to be the focus of office gossip.” Christ, she’s sexy and confident, and my cock is rock-hard and straining. I want her, and she’ll learn today that I’m not a pushover either. “To be clear, so there’s no misunderstanding, I thought my personally delivering flowers to you would create gossip, which is why I had Neil deliver them to you on my behalf.” I see the way her lips part in surprise, then she quickly recovers, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “Nevertheless, I’m not interested.” She picks up her briefcase, and I pay very close attention to the slight hitch of her breath when she adds, “Please promise not to do anything like that again.” Now all I can see is her. I zero in on her pouty lips, imagining them running slowly up and down my cock, watching her pleasure me. She reacts promisingly, tugging at her bottom lip with her front teeth. Why are you stopping this? I silently wonder. Aloud, I answer her question, “I promise not to make you feel uncomfortable again in such a way.” “Good.” She turns to leave. Moving on impulse, I take a few steps to close the distance between us, and reach out, grabbing her wrist. A dangerous move on my part, as it might be misconstrued as sexual harassment. But I have to know if I’m reading her wrong, because I want her so very badly. The moment my fingers tighten around her skin, heat spirals down my spine. Pure, unadulterated desire in its rawest form sweeps through the air, swelling my cock to the point of pain. I close my fingers, holding her, overwhelmed with the need to not let go. She softens with a delectable yearning, striking me in the chest, and yanking me so intensely I nearly pull her straight into my arms. Christ, what she does to me and how she makes me want her, is unusual. “Again”—I slowly drag my finger across her wrist, controlling my urges, trying to be gentle with her—“I didn’t mean to upset you. That was never my intention.” She looks at her arm where my fingers linger. Head bowed, and avoiding my eyes, she speaks in a raspy voice. “As long as we understand each other, I’ll forgive you.” I drop her wrist and watch her leave the restaurant. My cock throbs in my pants, and I notice the slight waver in her step, realizing how affected she is, too. I don’t doubt she’s soaking wet between her thighs and that her clit is swollen and achy. She wants me. That I know. Allie can run.

But she’s mine to catch.

Allie What a friggin’ day! Inside my midtown condo, I kick off my heels, sighing in happiness and locking the door behind me. It’s late and the sky is dark, and though both Union Square and the Civic Center offer some glowing light through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I snap the light switch, illuminating my openconcept condo. This place is all mine, from the modern furniture in the living room to the scattered colorful accents and décor. Most people who visit my house wouldn’t suspect that I have money, because I pay my bills from a separate account from the one my brother set up for me. Ready to jump into the bath and soak away my long day, I drop my purse on the small table by the door, but first move to the living room. When I reach my cream-colored couch, I flop onto the soft cushion, grabbing my iPad off the refinished antique hardwood coffee table. I click FaceTime and dial my best friend. Two rings go by before Taylor ’s face pops up on the screen. She’s one of those natural beauties that I try hard not to hate, whose honey-colored hair falls in soft curls around her oval face and never looks out of place, even when it’s messy. “Hi, you,” I say, tucking my legs underneath me. “Why didn’t you call me back last night?” I had big news for her and it’s not like her to not return a call. “Sorry.” She gives a small smile, flashing her sparkling white teeth. “I worked late and then thought you’d be sleeping.” “Oh, you totally should have called.” I rest the iPad on my thighs, glancing down at her. “I have big news to tell you.” Her light hazel eyes sparkle. “Dammit, I’m always the last to know good gossip. Tell me. Tell me.” “Okay, well, it all started yesterday…” I rehash what took place at Richardson and then everything that happened today during my first day at Holt. “So, yeah, now I’m working for the famous Micah Holt, and apparently he wants a date.” “Of course he wants a date with you. You’re Allie.” Her warm smile makes me miss seeing it in person. It’s been at least six months since she’s visited, though it feels longer. We were inseparable growing up and it’s been an adjustment not seeing or talking to Taylor every day. In fact, I imagine I would be in a deep depression if I didn’t have Liv. “So…” Taylor ’s wiggling her light-colored, perfectly shaped eyebrows. “When is this date happening?” “It’s not.” She frowns. “And why would that be?” “Because dating Micah Holt is the last thing I should be doing.” Taylor pauses, eyeing me closely in the way she does when she gently disagrees with me. “Let me guess, he’s too rich for you?” “You know me too well.” I smile. My mother taught me everything I needed to know about rich men. When she was younger, she’d married a multimillionaire. After their divorce she worked as a receptionist at a pediatrician’s clinic,

which eventually led to her meeting my father, who was a FedEx worker. But during her first marriage, my mother told me, money became more important than people, relationships, and happiness. She told me about the long hours her ex-husband worked at the office, which led to his numerous affairs. She told me about how his assistants purchased anniversary, Valentine’s, and other holiday gifts. I won’t forget her tears and the pain in her eyes I saw that day she opened up about her life with her ex-husband. It’s hard for me to put any value on money now knowing it can be easily used for the wrong. “On top of being rich, you know what that type of guy is like.” “Yeah, I do,” she whispers. Right after we graduated from high school, Taylor and my half-brother secretly dated. Although I knew about the relationship and had given them my blessing, he wanted things to stay on the downlow. My big bro had begun to build his empire, and Taylor had been only nineteen at the time, while he had been twenty-nine. But their relationship only confirmed to me why I don’t want what they had. Ever. Because, in the end, my half-brother repeated the same mistakes his father had. He worked all day and all night to make his billions, never seeing Taylor. When she finally confronted him, he broke up with her. The relationship had been short, intense, and in the end, it ruined them both. The last happy day they’d had together was the last day I had seen either of them happy. Which reminds me every day why I’m proud that when my half-brother handed me a rich life on a platter I’d been smart enough at fifteen years old to decline it. Yes, I had a trust fund. But I never touched a cent of that money. “So while I’m tempted…”—and oh, boy, does Micah tempt me—“this can’t lead anywhere good.” “But maybe he’s different than…” She gives a small smile and adds, “Micah’s already built his empire, so maybe things are different for him. Like, maybe he wants to do the whole normal life thing now.” “I’ve never met a single guy who seeks power and a quiet life.” No, all the guys I met growing up were spoiled pricks trying to get richer than the guy next to them. They hungered for power. “It’s true. They don’t really seem to go hand in hand,” Taylor agrees, squinting her eyes, finally shrugging. “But Micah does have one thing going for him. From what I’ve read, he has a charity that helps children whose parent or parents have died. They send kids to summer camps and Disney World —things like that.” I absorb that particular news. “Okay, so he might have a sweet side.” My mind oddly returns to when he touched me in the restaurant, and my hot reaction to that touch, making saying yes seem far too easy. I don’t have it all figured out yet, but it’s almost as if part of me trusts him and another part of me doesn’t. Right now I’m listening to the part that doesn’t. I rub my eyes, suddenly feeling tired. “God, Taylor, this guy is so…” “Sexy?” I laugh, dropping my hands. “Yes, that. But there’s more…it’s like he’s…” I eventually sigh and shake my head. “Unforgettable. Dark. Dangerous. Magnetizing. I don’t even know how to explain it. He has this way about him that draws you right in.” “So what are you going to do?” she asks, simply. “What I always do,” I say with a shrug. “Keep my head down and work hard.”

She smiles. “And try to remind yourself that you don’t want a certain hot hunk in a bad way.” I snort a laugh. “Yep, that’s the plan.” “Gosh…” Taylor ’s posture stoops, her voice small. “New job. New hottie. Life is so exciting for you. I really miss being there to experience it together.” My heart clenches, twists and turns. When Taylor hurts, I hurt. It’s really that simple. I want her here, with me. I know it’s selfish, but I want to be around her lovable personality and watch chick flicks in our pajamas like we used to, eating as much junk food as humanly possible. It really sucks that life has a way of reminding you that you can’t always get what you want. “I miss you like crazy, too. How are things in San Diego?” “Oh, well…” Her lids lower. “I think Shawn is cheating on me.” Shawn’s this guy she’s been seeing for about a year now. I’ve only met him once, when I visited her last spring. I wasn’t a fan then. I’m definitely a hater now. “Do you realize how calmly you said that?” “Yeah, I do.” She gives a soft nod, looking so much more tired—no, broken down—than I ever remember her being. “To be honest,” she adds, “I’m sure he knows that I know, and he doesn’t seem to care.” “What a fucking asshole!” My fingers tighten around my iPad. I don’t understand why Taylor stays with Shawn. Or, really, why she dates any of the idiots she does. She can do so much better. Her eyes are dark with despair, her skin ashen from too many past hurts. I want to reach through the screen and hug her so badly. I’ve grown used to seeing that sadness over the past five years grow a little bit more every single day—desolation that hadn’t been there when she lived in San Francisco with me. “Please come home, Taylor,” I plead with her. “If he’s being such a fuck-face, why stay there?” Taylor had originally moved to be with another guy, who ended up going to jail for check fraud, which shocked the hell out of the both of us. He didn’t have the criminal vibe about him. “San Diego has nothing to offer you anymore. And I’m here, waiting for you to come home.” “But this is my home now.” Taylor ’s lip quivers, her shoulders curl. “I do love Shawn. It’s not that easy to just pick up and leave.” Oh, hell yes, it is that easy! My heart sinks into my stomach and I’m fighting back tears. God, I’m not sure when love got so confusing for Taylor. But how Shawn treats her isn’t love. It’s something else entirely. Something I wish I could protect her from. Something that makes me so angry at her and my half-brother. They both punish themselves by staying apart and I have no damn idea why. I want to lecture her now. But she doesn’t need that from me, so I repeat the question she asked me earlier. “So, what are you going to do?” “I haven’t quite figured that out yet.” “Once you do, if that leads you home, you’ll stay here, right?” Sometimes I wonder if her parents are why she’s staying away. Taylor ’s parents are dream parents. You know, the ones where her father is a director at a small software company and her mother is a stay-at-home mom. They truly live the American dream. They have the perfect family, with one boy and one girl, the perfect house, and even the white picket fence. I can only imagine she doesn’t want to disappoint them. And, well, Taylor ’s one of those people who always thinks of others before thinking of herself. “Yes, for a thousand times over,” Taylor drawls. “I know you have a room waiting for me. I know

you want me there. And your place is exactly where I’ll come if I leave here.” “Okay.” I smile big at her. “As long as we’ve got that straight.” She gives a laugh that’s void of any warmth. “There’s just a lot to figure out. I’ve got my job and my life here, too.” It takes everything inside of me to not demand she come back now. Here, with me, everything is better. “Just don’t forget yourself, babe, and what makes you happy.” I blow her a kiss through the iPad. She catches the kiss and smacks her hand against her cheek. “Right now I’m trying to figure out what makes me happy anymore.” I stay silent, not commenting on that statement. She’s gotta figure this mess out for herself, no matter that I wish I could help her. “You know, I was thinking today about the first time we got totally smashed, at Johnny Hampton’s party in high school, and had to call your parents to pick us up,” I eventually blurt out, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. “Remember how I threw up all over the backseat of your dad’s car?” Taylor sputters a laugh. “Oh, my God, yes!” My muscles go lax at the sweet sound and warmth slides into my veins at the tension leaving her face. We’ve seen each other at our highs and at our lows. But Taylor ’s low seems to have lasted for a whole five years now. I might not have answers for her, but I plan to remind her of the woman she used to be, as often as I can, hoping that maybe one day she’ll be that woman again. “Your mom, though, remember what she did, how she made us wake up early the next day? Remember how many times we barfed our guts out when we were forced to make them bacon and eggs?” “That sucked so bad.” Her eyes crinkle, an honest warmth filling their depths. “Total hell.” I smile with her. No matter how hard times had gotten, we had each other. On tough days, that’s always enough.

Chapter 4

Allie When I enter Holt’s reception area the next morning, my high-heel shoes drag against the floor. The receptionists are chattering on phones and the waiting room is bustling with clients waiting for their dream houses to be found. I hold the two coffee cups out in front of me, my mouth salivating for some liquid energy. Ugh. I need to sleep and stop thinking about the smooth man on my mind. Being tired is never a good thing for me. I’m not as strong when I’m sleepy and I need to be on top of my game around Micah. I pass each door, noticing my co-workers huddled together in groups, murmuring about something and holding small bouquets of flowers in their hands. I tilt my head, catching their conversations, ranging from “Did we make a big sale?” to “Why is Micah so happy?” to “Am I being fired?” My mind is racing and now I’m hurrying down the hallway to get answers from Liv as to what is going on. When I enter my office, I find a large bouquet of flowers on my desk and a slightly smaller one on Liv’s. I’m already putting two and two together, that Micah wanted me to accept his flowers so much he bought everyone in the office flowers, as I spot Liv’s wide grin while she tells me, “Girl, you must have the secret something to snag a billionaire.” “I can’t believe he did this,” I admit, handing her the coffee I got for her. “Me neither. It’s kinda sweet in a weird dominating way, eh?” I nod at Liv and then move to my desk, feeling her eyes following me. Sure, he still didn’t hand deliver the flowers to me. Of course, yesterday he told me he would have, but knew better than to do that in front of everyone. Okay, so he’s won this particular battle, I admit to myself. “What did you say to him when he showed up at the restaurant?” Liv asks as I take a seat behind my desk. Obviously I had to text her right after. I place my purse in the bottom drawer and my coffee next to my keyboard. “I told him that singling me out in any way was a bad idea, as it would lead to problems for me in the office.” Liv laughs. “So he sends flowers to everyone?” “Apparently.” “Wow,” Liv breathes. “Just wow.” “No kidding.” I really look at the flowers he gave me, noticing a mix of red roses and white hydrangeas. The flowery scent spirals around me, and I can’t deny the beauty of the flowers, or the sweetness of his gesture. The girl in me wants to jump up and down in excitement that any guy put this much effort to go on a date with me. Clearly, Micah’s determined to get a yes out of me. And he’s damn well making sure I can’t forget about him. My throat dries uncomfortably when I reach for the card and open it, finding Micah’s handwriting.

Allie— One date. Don’t make me wait too long. —Micah I run my fingers over the writing on the card, acknowledging the butterflies fluttering, and wondering what happens when you make a man like Micah wait too long. Part of me loves the attention and realizes he has no intention of giving up. In fact, I’m a bit surprised he hasn’t pulled the I gave you Richardson. You’ll give me this card. The other part fears this is a battle that I won’t win. But all the lessons from my mother echo in my mind. I can’t repeat her mistakes. I won’t. “I take it a date is in your near future,” Liv states before sipping her coffee. I snort, placing the card in the drawer and out of sight. “Oh, yes, because that would be a great idea. Let’s date the very well-known playboy who happens to be my boss. Definitely a CLM, if you ask me.” “Oh, yes, career limiting move, for sure. I mean, because dating a gorgeous billionaire is every woman’s worst nightmare.” She gives me a well-deserved You are an idiot look. It is crazy! I should be overjoyed about Micah pursuing me. Most women would be all over this. But Liv doesn’t know the true reasons I can’t be with him. She doesn’t know the real me and where I came from. She doesn’t know about my mother. She doesn’t know about the money. “Might I remind you that he is Micah Holt?” I shoot back at her. “The guy’s splattered all over the tabloids with a new woman on his arm every month. Anything between us would be short-lived anyway—he’s not what I want in a guy.” “Oh, I’m not saying to date him seriously.” Liv shudders a little, twirling from side to side in her swivel chair. “He’s a heartbreaker, for sure. But he’s also pretty, so you could”—she grins and waggles her eyebrows—“enjoy that pretty package for one night.” “No.” I shake my head, adamantly. “You know I hate one-night stands.” I had one once with an Irish man when I traveled to Ireland. It was the accent, sexily spoken to me while I was intoxicated, and my panties disappeared. That experience was enough—been there, done that. “What I know is,” Liv drawls, her foot clad in a black high-heel shoe bouncing in time with the music coming from the radio, “you need to remove your halo and get some horns on that pretty little head of yours.” My lips part, and she waves me off. “I know. I know. A one-night stand is against your angelic morals.” Liv loves her bad boys, including her one-night stands. She’ll never understand this about me. “There’s nothing wrong with having morals.” “In the nineteen hundreds,” she counters with a level look. “You live in the twenty-first century. It’s okay to want sex and a lot of it.” Her eyes dance as she sips her coffee again. “But since you’re clearly in a state of denial, where you somehow think you can refuse the powerful and damn hot Micah Holt, tell me more about what happened with the Lowes yesterday?”

I sigh, grateful for the subject change. “I got their wish list,” I report, “Last night I stalked the MLS and found four possibilities that I’m planning on showing Jenny in an”—I glance at the time on my monitor—“hour and a half.” “Perfect.” Liv smiles, placing her coffee cup down beside the stack of papers on her desk. “That gives me enough time to fill you in on all things Holt.” I settle into my seat and reach for my coffee. “Okay, hit me with it.” “Our go-to guy about new clients is James,” Liv explains. “What department is he in?” I take a sip of my coffee, catching a whiff of the vanilla syrup before the warmth slides down my throat. “They call the department Real Estate.” Liv riffles through the papers on her desk. “James is one of the team leads who works under the Director of Real Estate, who reports to the Vice President of Real Estate.” She looks up from the papers and gives me a tight smile. “We’ve been placed into James’s division, so he’s our guy.” I shake my head, trying to get my bearings. “This company is huge.” “Yup, it’s massive.” By the strain between her brows she’s struggling to wrap her head around all of the different departments now. Because she knows I rely on her for that stuff. “Get this, though. James sent me the background info for the Lowes.” “Background info?” Liv nods, grabbing a folder out from the papers and bringing it to me. “It’s like Mission Impossible around here.” She hands me the file, and as I open it, she returns to her desk, adding, “Everything, and I mean everything, about the clients is in that file. Like, what their previous houses look like, what charities they’re involved in, their income bracket, things like that.” I snort a laugh, reading that my new clients have two Labrador retrievers and no children. “Jeez, it’s like an invasion of privacy. Whatever happened to, I don’t know, meeting with clients and talking to them?” “Old times, girl. Old times.” Liv sighs, scanning over the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ve never seen anything like this place. Let me just tell you, I’m damn happy that I got a raise.” “Because you deserve it?” I offer. “Well, yes, of course I do.” She gives a sly smile. “That said, the number of people I’ve had to meet and figure out what in the hell they do around here is worth that money alone.” She takes a deep breath, moving her shoulders and lifting her chin. “Okay, and last but not least, if you need a breather”—I often do when dealing with difficult clients, as Liv is well aware—“I learned from another assistant I met in the break room that Holt has one helluva rooftop patio for all employees to enjoy, not just the big shots on the sixty-first floor.” “Nice,” I say. She nods. “Now, Ms. I-Am-So-Hot-the-Billionaire-Boss-Wants-to-Shag-Me, you have a meeting with James and the other agents in his division in five minutes to discuss stuff I don’t care about. Better get moving to Hogwarts—it’s the third door after the reception desk.” “Hogwarts?” I repeat, rising from my desk. “Ah, yes,” Liv says. “The folks around here got bored with the regular meeting room names so they proposed to the higher-ups that they rename them with locations from Harry Potter. I guess Micah agreed.”

Micah has a fun, non-serious side? Now, that’s unexpected. Okay, maybe I’m not opposed to finding out there’s more to him than money and power. “That’s surprising, but cool.” I step around my desk with coffee in hand. “Yup. Very cool of him.” Liv glances down at the papers on her desk, hastily ignoring me as she does when working. “Now get moving or you’ll be late.” “I’m already gone,” I call, exiting our office. Being sweet and having a fun side are things I didn’t expect from Micah, but just because he erased two check marks on my do-not-date-Micah list, it’s still a very detailed one. There’s no way he can possibly erase all my bullet points. He can’t be that good. He is Micah Holt after all.

Micah My mind is straying from work, centering solely on the woman who’s spellbound me. One floor below, Allie is likely staring at the flowers I sent her, and it’s taking all of my willpower not to go down there to find out if she likes my gesture. Most women I can read like an open book, because they are all the same. Allie, though, she’s a whole different breed of woman. “Micah, are you with us?” I blink back to consciousness, reminding myself that I’m sitting at a rectangular steel conference room table in the Ministry of Magic—which is located right next to my office—completely surrounded by glass walls. I still haven’t gotten used to the new names for the meeting rooms, but even if I’ve never seen the Harry Potter movies, happy employees equal excellent workers. “Yes, I’m with you,” I tell Anderson, clasping my hands atop the table. “Run the conversation by me again.” Anderson gives me a puzzled look before tapping his fingers against the papers in front of him. “We were talking about this new direction for Richardson.” “Ah, that,” I mutter, steeling myself for the conversation ahead. Holt’s V.P. of Real Estate, Isabella, says, “Yes, that. Do enlighten us why you made this decision.” I spot the side of Anderson’s mouth lifting in amusement before I address Isabella, who, by her scowl, isn’t as amused. “It’s a personal matter to me.” “I understand that, Micah,” Holt’s CFO, Travis, states as he sits straight as an arrow next to Anderson. “But we should be reconsidering this. Have you looked at their reports?” He thrusts a hand through his copper-colored, stylish hair, causing his suit to stretch against his bulk. “This made sense as an acquisition to remove one of our competitors. It makes no sense to keep Richardson as is.” I lean back in my swivel chair, lacing my hands behind my head. I can’t disagree. It is a terrible decision. We had paid a higher price for Richardson because we weren’t the only interested buyers. But this time—this one time—I’m okay with making a bad financial decision. “I agree with Travis,” Isabella adds; her stern, light green eyes intent on mine. “It doesn’t make sense. We’d be throwing money away before we ever saw a return. Not only do we need to relocate the business, but we’ve taken all of their bestselling agents and brought them into Holt.” Anderson glances my way and frowns. “They’re right.” I sigh, turning in my chair, glancing out at the skyline, and seeing the sun high in the afternoon sky. On one hand, I can’t argue with anything being said. Holt isn’t only my company; it’s my team’s company, too. It’s been born from their sweat and blood, as much as it has from mine. On the other hand, the way Allie looked at me when she worried for her co-workers flashes through my mind and still stops me in my tracks. I can’t turn back. I made her a promise. I won’t break it. I draw in a long breath before facing them again. “Right now, I’m not changing my mind on this decision.”

Isabella shakes her head in frustration, not about to back down. “We acquired Richardson for its clientele and to stake our claim in the residential market.” A frown begins pulling on my lips. While I don’t like being questioned, she’s not wrong—Holt deals mostly with mergers and acquisitions regarding commercial properties, but Holt’s residential real estate department is what we hoped to grow this year, selling not only high-income homes, but dabbling more into the middle-income market to dominate the entire industry. Isabella continues, “We don’t have the resources or staff to ensure we bring Richardson up to speed to be successful on its own. We never planned for that.” I glance at Anderson and he shrugs, telling me he feels the same as the others. I respect my team standing firm in their opinions. It’s why I work alongside them, and I have changed the game on them now. Where does this leave me? Right now all I know is Richardson is too small, too run-down, and is lacking good real estate agents, since we took them all to grow Holt. “Let’s bring in Darius Bennett on this and see if his team can give some insight.” Darius’s billion-dollar company, Bennett, Inc., provides financial and budgeting services to large corporations, as well as advice on organization and management issues, and can improve any company. I have gone to Darius a few times in the past when a company I bought needed a face-lift. His people could find flaws that others missed. “I’d like to see the entire picture of what we’re looking at here.” I turn to Isabella. “Get our team working on finding any properties that Richardson can possibly move into.” Anderson adds, “And make sure the location is somehow tied to real estate, too. If we end up doing this, we need to make sure we’re giving Richardson the best shot out of the gate.” Isabella begrudgingly nods. “I suppose that’s a good place to start.” Travis grimaces. “I’ll take another look at their financials and see if I can be of any help there, too.” “Excellent,” I say, glad the team is on board. “Let’s meet again after I talk with Darius and see where everything sits before we make any final decisions.” I get some disgruntled agreements as the room clears, and I reach for the conference room’s phone and press the intercom button. The loud beep cuts through the air as I spin in my chair, staring out at the skyline again. “Yes?” Neil’s cheery voice fills the room. “Contact Darius Bennett and set up a meeting as soon as possible.” When the intercom turns off, a loud clearing of a throat has me glancing over my shoulder. Anderson’s scowling at me. “You better know what you’re doing.” He wouldn’t be Anderson if he didn’t call me out on this. He’s not my COO by chance. Anderson has worked with me at Holt from day one, because he didn’t feed me bullshit back then and he won’t now. I nod, it being the only answer I’m prepared to offer. Truth be told, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. For the first time, I’m charging forward without a plan. “The look on your face right now isn’t convincing,” Anderson comments, shutting the door, with him inside. “If you ask me, it seems that all you know is what you want, and she is a floor beneath us.” “Keep Allie out of this conversation,” I give him a gently warning.

“She’s in it,” he fires back at me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell me you’re thinking straight about this. Your personal decision affects Holt. Richardson is not pocket change. We put in millions of dollars to buy the company, for the sole purpose of dismantling it. And you better be damn sure this woman is worth the risk.” I keep my mouth shut, not feeling the need to defend myself. Anderson curses, shaking his head. “You made a bad decision. Your team is watching you make that bad decision. Trust is made and kept by not making bad decisions.” He presses both hands against the back of the chair in front of him, knuckles white. “So, tell me that you’re not making a bad decision.” Before I can reply, Neil’s voice breaks through the thick tension in the air. “I’m afraid that Mr. Bennett is away on business right now, but he can meet you at Holt on Saturday morning after he returns from traveling. Shall I confirm?” “Please do,” I reply. Anderson waits until the intercom beeps, ending Neil’s access to our conversation, before he addresses me again, “I’ll back you a hundred percent on this, but give me your word that if at any time the decision becomes detrimental to Holt, you’ll break the promise you made to Allie.” The thought makes my skin crawl. But I owe Anderson this promise for his loyalty to Holt and to me. I want to save Richardson for all the reasons Allie wanted me to, but not at the expense of my relationship with Anderson. “You have my word.”

Allie The pictures of the houses on my monitor are beginning to blur. One hour of searching the Multiple Listing Service (MLS) for new listings and then scanning through Holt’s private database of new houses coming onto the market, and I’m still finding nothing better than what I showed Jenny this morning. Apparently the houses I found were only good houses in my eyes, not hers. It’s too small, the layout is weird, the paint colors are horrible; Jenny complained about it all, and I had to force myself not to roll my eyes at her. First-world problems, indeed. I rub the ache out of my eyes; I can’t keep looking at this screen hoping the perfect house pops out at me. Frustrated at being back at square one with the Lowes, I rise from my desk, desperately needing some fresh air, and remember the patio Liv told me about earlier. The floor is dead quiet as I move slowly down the hallway. There are a couple other offices with lights on, telling me I’m not the only insane person here tonight. I make it up the stairs in no time, hurrying outside, letting the door shut loudly behind me. A lovely garden, with grass and shrubs, surrounds me, looking more like a small park than a rooftop of a high-rise. I follow the cobblestone pathway with the solar lights lining the sides, heading straight for the balcony. The night is dark and clouds are covering much of the sky, hiding the stars and moon, but I inhale a long breath anyway, staring out at the skyline, pretty sure there’s not a skyline in the world better than San Francisco’s. I exhale the long breath, as a light breeze carries over the patio, and I shiver, wrapping my arms about myself. “You’re cold.” I jump and swing around, taking in the view of Micah, finding myself speechless. He looks different now, all stretched out on a wicker love seat, a glass of scotch in his hand. Definitely more relaxed, and maybe less intimidating, too. He rises from his seat and takes off his blazer, offering it to me. “Come, take this. You’re cold.” I’m thinking I don’t need his coat, watching him undress warms me enough. How a man can look that sexy in a vest, dress shirt, and slacks is utterly beyond me. I’m starting to believe it’s a gift from God, and Micah is well gifted. I shiver again, but I’m not entirely sure that’s from the cold. Most things in my life I can explain. My reaction to Micah I can’t. Everything inside of me lights up around him. Sensing my pause becoming awkward, I move to him and accept the jacket, draping the fabric around my shoulders. “Thank you.” Micah returns to his seat and opens the side table, revealing a cooler. “We’ve got scotch, vodka, or beer. What’s your flavor?” I snort. “Looks like I need a drink, huh?”

“A little.” He grins. “Scotch, please.” Something stiff sounds good right about now. Micah pours a shot into a glass then hands me the drink. I take a sip, the liquid sliding down my throat, instantly relaxing me. He settles into the corner of the love seat, turning to face me and propping his shoes on the coffee table, one ankle over the other. He’s watching me in that way he does. Like he’s trying to magically discover all my secrets. The discomfort I feel at his examination—no, study—of me forces me to break the silence. “I’m surprised you haven’t left for the day. Do you have a suite here or something?” The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Images of Micah naked in his bed flood my mind. I sip my scotch, hastily erasing them. The side of his mouth arches, a telling sign that he knows I’m thinking lewd thoughts about him. And why shouldn’t he—I imagine most women think these things in his presence. “No, I’m leaving soon, but wanted some air first,” he eventually says. That I understand. “Don’t like to take work home with you, right?” He nods. “I do the same.” Another surprise. We actually have something in common. “So, do you have a house close by, then?” He takes a longer sip of his scotch than I do, all the while watching me, of course, then he finally decides to answer, “I do have a house, but it’s near the bay. I stay at the Phoenix during the week.” The name rings a bell, and soon I realize he’s talking about a hotel. “You live at a hotel?” When he nods in confirmation, I snort. “Now, that’s the dream.” He chuckles softly. “I stay there during the week because it’s close to Holt. It saves me from an exhausting commute, considering I typically put in long days.” He holds his glass up, watching the amber liquid spin within. “Besides, my busy schedule doesn’t leave me time to cook or maintain a property myself, so it makes sense.” Surprisingly, I actually don’t mind his answer. He doesn’t buy more for himself than what he needs. He’s using what he has already. Okay, another surprise. He doesn’t act totally spoiled. One brow arches. “You can’t imagine ever living at a hotel?” “No, sorry, I can’t,” I reply, hoping I don’t offend him. “A house isn’t just a house for me; it’s a home, it’s a feeling. And you can’t buy that feeling.” He’s watching me intently again, like he’s trying to get a read on me. There’s something very sexy in the way he takes his time, almost like he really pays attention, never rushing through anything. Finally, he asks, “Call me curious, but why did you look ready to smash something when you first walked out here?” “Oh, I showed Mrs. Lowe a few houses today.” I glance down at the glass in my hand, seeing I’ve made a good dent in my drink before looking at him again. “Sadly, they weren’t her cup of tea.” “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re amazing at what you do, and I imagine Jenny has no idea what she wants.” Just like that, another check mark’s gone at Micah’s support of me. “Besides,” he adds, “if she takes too long, Peter will make the decision for her. He won’t want to drag this out.” I’m staring into his eyes while I sip my scotch, and he’s still watching me closely. He’s kinda

likable, I admit. My belly warms with a slow-building heat, but I don’t know if that’s from him or from the scotch. I begin wondering how his sculpted lips would feel on mine. How those strong hands would feel dragging across my sensitive flesh. How that finger that’s gliding over the rim of his glass would feel circling my puckered nipple. And how those smoky eyes would look when they smolder. I gulp back the scotch, cringing at the aftertaste, as his low and smooth chuckle slides over me in a delicious promise. “Tell me, Allie: why did you get into real estate?” he asks, avoiding the topic we both know we’re thinking about: Us. In Bed. And very naked. I look up at him through my lashes, feeling my cheeks flushing hot, and hoping to hell the patio’s lighting isn’t illuminating my skin. “I like finding people homes and giving them somewhere to make memories.” He tilts his head, eyes curious. “You sell homes because you hope it gives people happy memories?” I get the feeling I’ve surprised him. “It’s nice, you know, being a part of that process and knowing that you’re helping someone find the place where they’ll create their story, whatever that might be.” “Hmm…” is all he says. I’m a little lost in the way he’s examining me now. To be the center of this man’s focus is a bit mind-boggling, but to have him look at me like I’m a lost treasure he’s finally found is out of this world. I sense my breaths growing shallower and the rise of my chest becoming more evident. He’s observing me, I see it. I see the way his eyes are taking note of all my reactions to him. Every breath. Every tremble of my hands. Every nibble on my lip. He lowers his feet to the grassy ground, leaning forward a little, resting his arms on his knees. “I didn’t receive the flowers back from you today, so I take it you found them acceptable.” “They were beautiful, thank you.” I can’t look away from him. The entire world somehow disappears around me. It’s me, him, and this insane energy flowing between us. Every hair on my body stands straight up and my legs are unconsciously squeezing together against the building warmth between my thighs. The silence is stretching out between us, and it is saying so much without saying anything at all. I should move, but I don’t. I should say something, but I can’t. I should do a lot of things, but all I’m doing is breathlessly staring at him. He’s moving closer to me now and I can smell the woodsy hints of his cologne. My chest is rising and falling fast with my deep breaths. I’m being pulled forward into him like we’re magnets. I can’t ignore this. I can’t ignore him. His lips are right near mine, so very close, and with the scent of scotch on his breath, my mind snaps firmly into place. I recoil, shooting straight to my feet. “I gotta go.” I yank his blazer off, thrusting it at him. “Thanks for the drink.” He drapes an arm across the back of the love seat, grinning at me. “Not cold anymore?” Damn, he’s so cool and collected, it’s irritating, because I’m totally out of control, and tongue-tied. I turn away, refusing to look at him again, because that’s when I get into trouble. I hurry through the door, entering the stairwell, getting far, far away from him, reminding myself

to never forget the two lessons I learned tonight. Never be alone with Micah. And definitely don’t ever drink scotch with him.

Chapter 5

Allie “Sorry. Excuse me. Sorry,” I mutter, exiting Holt’s elevator the next morning, banging into the four large men occupying the space. As the doors shut behind me, I exhale a long breath, stifled by all the testosterone that surrounded me on the way up to my floor. I push the hair off my face, reminding myself of the text Liv sent me ten minutes ago. Go see Kevin —he’s got a lead that might work for the Lowes. Our department. Fifth office on the right. He’s waiting for you. I find the reception area surprisingly quiet, and hurry past, making my way down the hallway, but the offices are empty, too. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s been a zombie apocalypse I don’t know about, when I stop in front of the fifth office on the right, glad there’s a person inside. “Kevin?” A twenty-something young man sits behind his desk. He lifts his head and smiles. “Hi. Allie, right?” “Yup.” I enter his office, taking a seat in front of his desk. His office is quite a bit smaller than Liv’s and mine, confirming that Micah gave us a bigger office to keep us together. At least, I hope that’s why and it’s not because he thought impressing me would win him a date. Pushing my paranoia aside, I cross my legs, pulling my white skirt over my knee. “Liv tells me that you have a lead on a house coming onto the market.” Kevin adjusts his red bow tie against his plaid dress shirt, sighing at the stacks of paperwork on his desk. “Yeah, I do. Or I might, I should say. My clients are on the fence if they want to sell now or wait for the fall. But when Liv sent the email around for what your clients want, the house I have fits their needs perfectly.” He rummages through the pile of papers on his desk. “Give me a sec. I’ve got it here somewhere.” I fight my smile, beginning to understand why Holt merged with Richardson. My old boss had proven to know the magic in the residential side of real estate. Holt needs to step up their game, if Kevin is any indicator of their agents. “Aha,” Kevin finally exclaims. “Here it is.” He offers me a wrinkled piece of paper. I smooth it out and glance at the newly renovated two-story house, scanning over the details. I mentally check off all of the Lowes’ wants. “You’re right. This is pretty much perfect.” I look away from the paper to Kevin. “Why are your clients hesitant to sell?” “Money, of course.” Kevin picks up his cellphone and clearly types a response to a message before continuing. “They wonder if they’ll get more in the fall, even though I’m telling them they won’t.” “I take it, then, they want full asking price?” Which is four million. Kevin nods. “They won’t budge, not even by a penny. But the house is worth it, so no one is getting screwed over here.” He pushes his glasses up on his nose. “And your clients? Are they easy to work with?” I half shrug. “I showed them a handful of houses that I thought were perfect yesterday, but Mrs. Lowe is pickier than she initially let on. No wiggle room here. I need to find her exactly what she’s looking for, and it has to have the wow factor.” Kevin draws in a deep breath before speaking again. “All right, having a potential buyer set up might push my clients to make a move.” He pauses, brows furrowed until he slaps a hand on the desk.

“Let me talk to them, and if they’re interested we can set up a showing. Sound good?” “Sounds perfect.” I smile. “A win-win for Holt.” Kevin laughs, giving a soft nod. “The higher-ups love when we represent both sides of a deal. We’ll each get a gift certificate for dinner if the deal closes.” “Really? That’s nice of Holt.” “Not Holt,” Kevin corrects. “The gift card comes directly from Micah.” My open mouth shuts, words lost to me. I guess I didn’t expect Micah to be so in tune with his employees. Usually the higher-ups don’t deal with the employees who make all the money for them. Another surprise from Micah. Another damn check mark unchecked. “You two are late. Better get moving.” I glance over my shoulder, finding the receptionist Anna standing in the doorway. She frowns at Kevin, her topknot bun pulling her forehead tight. “You know how Mr. Holt feels about anyone working during this time.” Her gaze slides to me, creases on her mouth deepen. “You don’t, so I’ll tell you: Mr. Holt gets really annoyed if he finds anyone working during Holt’s Day. Past employees have been written up.” I scrunch my nose. “Holt’s Day?” Kevin rises from his desk, moving around the side and heading toward the doorway. “Ah, you haven’t been to a Holt’s Day before. Come on, I’ll take you up.” I rise and wait for him to exit his office first, and as I’m following him and Anna to the elevator, I find the other receptionists gone from their desks now. I’m so confused my head is beginning to hurt. “Where is everyone?” I ask. Anna glances over her shoulders, rolling her eyes. “They’re at Holt’s Day.” Kevin smirks, pressing the top button of the elevator. When Anna looks away to step into the elevator, he mouths, “Bitch.” I smile and nod, following him into the elevator, and stepping in behind Kevin as he uses his keycard to access the top floor. Silence surrounds me until the doors open and then a wave of laughter and chatter wash across me. Anna hurries away, quickly leaving us without saying a word. Kevin exits the elevator, and when I step out next to him, he turns to me. “I’ll be in touch soon. Okay?” “Yes. Okay. Sounds good.” I’m trying to get my bearings. Children are running by me in fast blurs and the screams of joy are deafening. My mind is racing, searching for answers, while I notice a waterfall wall behind the reception desk with Holt Enterprises written in silver bold letters across it. There are offices to both the left and right, but the greater difference than the floor below is the laughter flowing throughout the hallway. Clowns, magicians, and other entertainers are in the reception area, bouncy screaming children surrounding them. “You’re late.” The low voice spiraling down my spine sends a shiver along with it, and I spin around to face smoky eyes, instantly reminded I almost kissed Micah last night in a moment of weakness. “I never got the invitation,” I tell him.

One brow lifts. “No one told you about Holt’s Day?” “No, it wasn’t mentioned.” My stomach clenches, heat instantly pooling low in my body, kicking my nerve endings into overdrive. It’s his eyes; they get me every damn time. They hold secrets and dark promises, and they’re wreaking havoc on my control. “But I’m here now,” I continue. “So, what exactly is Holt’s Day?” “It’s my charity.” He smiles. “Holt’s Hope?” “You’ve heard of it?” “Just recently, in fact.” From the softness of his expression, I can tell this charity means something to him. That softness does something so strange to me. It’s like a pull of energy, sucking me right in, making me want to be closer to him. It’s powerful. It’s strange. If I’m being honest, it scares me a little. Three screaming children holding balloons run by me, breaking my eye contact with him. I smile at them before turning to Micah again. “How often do you bring the kids here?” Micah pauses to examine me, staring at my mouth. I think he likes my smile. His eyes intensify whenever he sees it. “Every month the kids come in for the morning and we bring in entertainers.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, owning the space so naturally as his gaze is scanning the room. “The clowns are the favorites by far.” A fluttering feeling swirls in my belly as I listen to him speak. The passion, the sincerity in his tone, it’s another damn surprise. I keep trying to lump him into the spoiled-rich-jerk category, but every time I see him, he’s showing me he doesn’t belong there. Micah’s brow arches again, awaiting my reply, but my voice freezes. I find myself falling into this thing I see past the confidence he projects. There’s a certain kindness about him I somehow missed and am only now seeing. It’s genuine, and I’m feeling horrible for not noticing it before. “This is a really great thing you do for these kids.” His smile is slight. “Believe me, I get more out of this than they do.” The way his eyes go unfocused, as if lost in some dark memory, tells me he’s a deeper man than I took him to be. There in the depths of his commanding eyes, I see a grave sadness exuding from him, telling me this charity is personal for him. I have no idea how I know that. I just do. My throat begins to tighten and I find myself scrambling to ask the right question or to apologize for being hard on him when he didn’t deserve it. I’m not empathetic, but my world is slowing, my chest is squeezing. Now seeing him, somehow I’m feeling his pain, too. And in this moment his shields are down and his pain is bleeding out of him. A child stops in front of us and his squeal snaps me into the present. “I got a dog,” the boy says to Micah. I’m speechless at the warmth reaching Micah’s features when he lowers to one knee and pats the little blond boy on the head. “It’s a very good dog, Cameron.” The child lurches into Micah’s arms, and Micah’s eyes shut, a peace so visible to me reaching his face. “My mom would like this dog,” the boy says, jumping out of Micah’s arms. “Yes, I imagine she would,” Micah replies with a soft nod, then asks gently, “What will you name him?” “Spot.” The boy gives a big grin with loving doe eyes at Micah before hurrying away, screaming at

his dog balloon flying high in the air, “Spot, the wonder dog!” Micah glances up as he rises and gives me the softest expression, so contradictory to the power he possesses. “Cameron’s mother passed away six months ago from lung cancer.” I take that in for a moment, glancing around the space, seeing all these happy children, realizing what Micah does for them—the happiness he brings to them after they’ve gone through far too much. “How very sad,” I tell Micah, understanding these kids myself. I wasn’t as young when my parents died, but something inside changes when you lose your parents before you’re an adult yourself. For everyone it’s different, but for me, it taught me how short life is and to never waste a second of it. Be true to yourself, and for cripes’ sake, do what makes you happy, whatever that might be—that’s my motto. “It is sad,” Micah agrees. “I have a team here at Holt that reaches out to psychologists to find kids that need us.” A long heavy breath escapes him before he gives a tender smile. “Cameron’s doing much better now. He’s settling back into school and we’ve got him involved in some after-school sports.” He’s not looking at me when he says that; he’s staring after Cameron, and there’s longing in his face—heartache too, for sure. I can only assume that Micah has felt what Cameron has, because that look, that pain on his face, that shared memory cannot be faked. I should know. I’ve felt it, too. He turns to me then and my breath catches in my throat. Micah is intensity, power, and heavy emotion, and it’s all-consuming, weaving over me like a warm blanket that I need. “Allie?” he asks softly. I blink away from the spell of him, feeling every hair on my body rise, awareness of the man next to me overwhelming. “Yes. Sorry.” I smile, blinking twice more. “Drifted off there for a minute.” But I hadn’t. No, I realize so much now. Micah’s not like the man my mother described as her ex-husband, he’s not even like my halfbrother, he’s something more, and I can no longer deny the truth. With my judgment of him gone, all that remains is a flowing heat and electricity pinging between us, and so much more. His eyes narrow and he’s watching me intently. Part curiosity, part intrigue in my shift in mood toward him, I’m sure. But that intense emotion I feel coming from him interests me more, because for this to happen between us, he needs to be this guy I’m seeing without the armor he always keeps up. “This charity is clearly personal to you. Can I ask why?” His jaw clenches, eyes darting. I instantly realize I’ve hit a nerve. Then, “Holt prides itself on charity work.” The people, the noise, the activity around me drift away as I watch Micah walk from me with wide steps. I see him drop down with a group of children doing magic tricks, addressing each and every child in the group by name. I’ve felt a lot of things with men. Attraction, seduction, even friendship; this is something I don’t know. It’s forceful, yanking me in so fiercely I feel like I can’t stop it, and all I can do is feel my heart banging against my chest. Somehow he’s reaching my soul, tangling curiosity around me so tightly. “His hot level hit the roof, right?” I startle and jerk my head sideways, finding Liv. “What?” I manage.

Her eyes are dancing as she gestures at Micah, who now has three boys wrestling with him, while he’s tickling them into hysterics. “Look at that hunk surrounded by all those kids. Like I said, if he wasn’t hot before, he is now.” My chest aches when I look at Micah. I don’t agree with Liv, not that I’ll tell her that. Micah’s always been hot. The chemistry between us is undeniable. But this makes him real. He’s forcing me to see something I didn’t before. I see the man behind Holt, behind the suit, and behind the money. I see a man with ghosts. Liv continues, awe in her tone. “Who would have believed that he’s so sweet.” “Not me,” I whisper. But he is sweet. In fact, he’s more than sweet, I’m beginning to think. Micah flops back on the ground, raising his hands in surrender and declaring himself the loser, sending the children around him running away, laughing and squealing in pride. I think I can’t possibly be more impressed by him, but I’m quickly proven wrong, when the cutest little blond girl, wearing a crown and a purple princess dress, begins to paint Micah’s fingernails sparkly pink. I tilt my head, listening to their conversation. “I’m gonna make you pretty,” the little girl says with a big grin. “Thank you very much, Princess Gracie,” Micah replies, watching her work. Liv nudges me on the arm and says, slyly, “Rethinking saying no to a date with him?” I shrug at her, it being the only honest answer I can give. If only dating Micah were so easy. If only he weren’t a billionaire and perfectly happy living a simple life. If only he weren’t in the public eye and my dating him wouldn’t expose my secrets. There are too many huge if only’s to take that leap. I can’t forget that. But then his smoky eyes meet mine, clearly catching me looking at him, and my breath hitches, tingles rush in my veins, and everything becomes so very uncomplicated. I want to know why he gives me butterflies. I want to know all the complicated layers to him. I want to accept the way he’s offering himself to me now, bearing the real him to me, not showing me the man he projects as a shield. And if I’m being honest, I want to know his secrets, while that gorgeous man is delivering on his dark and sensual promises.

Micah Loud grunts and heavy breathing fill the air around me, as I drop my duffel bag down next to the mixed martial arts cage in Frisco’s Gym in North Beach. I reach inside my bag, grabbing out my ringing phone. “Holt,” I say into it. “Micah, it’s Travis. Anderson and Isabella are here on speaker, too.” Everyone knows I come to the gym before my lunch hour. The fact that no one wants to wait until I return to the office to arrange a meeting tells me I’m not going to like what I’m about to hear. I drop down onto the bench, staring out at the boxing ring across the gym, watching two men pound the hell out of each other. “What’s up?” “I went back over Richardson’s financials,” Travis continues. “And considering we’re requesting a meeting with Bennett, I thought this conversation shouldn’t wait.” “Go on,” I say. Anderson speaks now, voice grim. “It’s still not looking good. In fact, reading the reports a second time makes things appear worse.” Before I can reply to ask for more details, Isabella adds, “We bought Richardson as an acquisition. If the plan was to save the company, we should have offered less than what we paid, and then used keeping the company alive as a bargaining technique. We all know that Henry Richardson would’ve sold for less if he thought someone would keep the company afloat. We backed him into a corner and gave him no choice but to sell to us, because we paid him more than our competitors offered.” “She’s right,” Anderson agrees. “In time, of course we could see success with Richardson. But hiring Bennett Inc. to give the company a deeper look only takes away from our profit. And we all know that this isn’t an easy fix. Bennett’s team will need to stay around for at least a quarter to get things moving in the right direction, which won’t come cheap. It’ll be a good year or two before we ever see a return on the investment.” I ponder taking the rest of Richardson’s employees and moving them into Holt, but immediately toss out that idea. That’s the simplest answer to this conundrum. But, right now, we don’t have a big enough residential real estate department to support them and likely won’t for some time—which is why I originally acquired Richardson, so we could grow that business at Holt. “Which brings us back to my original point,” Isabella adds, dryly. “Why are we doing this? Financially, strategically, it doesn’t make sense, Micah.” I hesitate, considering my next steps. It is possible to come up with a new direction for Richardson that will somehow benefit Holt. I feel my instincts telling me not to give up yet, and I never doubt myself in regard to business. My team isn’t seeing the possibility, because I pay them not to see it. They make smart financial decisions for Holt, and this isn’t a smart decision. But I won’t force them to agree either. The last thing I want is a bunch of drones—yes-people—around me. I realize this can’t work for Holt, because it’s about me. This is a personal decision I made because

of Allie. Richardson is my risk. “I hear what you’re saying and I know what I need to do.” Either go back on my word with Allie or take this on as a personal investment. “Leave this with me for now, so I can make some decisions.” “All right, Micah,” says Anderson, voice strong in support of me. “You’ll let us know of your plans?” “I will.” I end the call then drop my phone back into my duffel bag. The game is changed now. Financially it makes no sense to dump money into Richardson, but I gave Allie my word in that second of complete insanity. A second where I acted like someone I didn’t even know. Yet now it doesn’t seem so insane anymore. I saw something in her then that I didn’t want to disappoint. I still see that in her now. I’m done questioning my choices. I’m done acting like a guy I don’t know. I concur. I overpower. I take whatever the fuck I want to take. “You should’ve warned me of your mood.” My driver ’s, Levi Ward’s, amused voice drags me from my thoughts. He scrapes a hand over his buzzed-cut brown hair, his wise copper eyes assessing me. “Then I might have brought an ice pack with me.” “Pussy.” I grin. He barks a laugh, dropping down on the bench next to me, and begins removing his running shoes. Levi’s not only the best fighter I know, he’s more like family to me than a hired driver. His father, Arthur, had worked as my parents’ butler since my birth. But five years ago, I gave him a million-dollar retirement package to walk away with that he could not refuse, forcing his retirement. Levi’s father had been kind to me. He pitied me during my childhood, and brought Levi over so I didn’t spend my days surrounded by adults who talked business. My life was different than Levi’s, but our youth together bound us so strongly that I knew Levi didn’t want from me like everyone else did. There’s no one in my life I trust more than Levi. That’s why he’s my driver. “So, do tell, what did the world do to piss you off today?” Levi asks, pulling me from my thoughts. “And how badly will you punish me for it?” I see the fire in his eyes for the fight ahead. Perhaps it’s his military background or that we grew up together or it’s his nature, but Levi doesn’t hold back when fighting me. And he’s nearly as good as me in the cage, being trained in mixed martial arts alongside me while growing up. What I want to say is that a woman is weakening me, leading me to make bad business decisions, and is seeing past all my expertly crafted barriers. I feel the heat of the beast swirling within, and that fire needs to stay buried, while I pursue the sweet, innocent Allie. But she also has me by the balls, making me do things I would never otherwise do, and I don’t like it. Instead of saying all of that, I reach into my duffel bag and grab my gloves. “No one pissed me off. It’s business.” “I’ve never seen you like”—Levi freezes halfway from reaching for something out of his bag and studies me long and hard—“this over business before.” I slide my left hand into the open-fingered glove then tighten the strap around my wrist. “It’s because it’s not entirely business.” Levi pulls out his gloves and starts laughing, shaking his head. “Ah, so that’s what this is all about

—a woman. Of course. I should have known that the second I saw the look on your face.” I snort, putting the glove on my right hand and tightening the wristband. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a comment.” Levi rises, grinning at me. “So, princess, what are you going to do about your dilemma?” “First, I’m going to kick your ass for calling me princess.” I slap my gloves together, standing in front of him, wearing a smile I know could intimidate some, but doesn’t intimidate Levi. “And then I’ll decide what to do about the girl.” But I don’t need to decide about Allie, only about Richardson. Because I already have a plan for Allie, and after I kick Levi’s ass, bringing myself back under control, keeping my demons at bay, I plan to get some more ass, and that’s Allie’s.

Allie The offices around mine are empty and most of the overhead lighting is turned off for the night when I press my phone tight against my ear and grumble at Kevin, “Your clients are still undecided?” I glance at the clock, seeing it’s already seven and hating the fact that I’m still at work. I don’t want to be. But I can’t mess up my first deal at Holt. I told Micah I would kick ass. I gotta kick ass. “I’m sorry,” Kevin replies, voice full of sympathy. “I know you were hoping they would agree, but they aren’t the type of clients I can push. It’s not a no, it’s just a not tomorrow. I promise the second they agree to letting the Lowes see their house, I’ll call you, no matter the time.” I want to shake my phone and demand that Kevin shake his clients. Instead, I drop my forehead onto my hand. “Okay, thanks for calling and updating me.” “No problem,” Kevin says. “We’ll talk soon. Promise.” “Bye.” I hang up the phone. “Fuck!” “Language!” Liv exclaims jokingly. I glance up, finding her hovering over my desk. She gives me a huge, classic Liv smile that usually makes me feel better. It doesn’t even come close to improving my mood tonight. “Sorry.” Her smile slowly fades. “I take it things with the Lowes aren’t going well?” “Kevin’s clients aren’t budging and I’ve got nothing else to show them right now.” Because I knew better than to show Jenny a house that didn’t have everything on her wish list. Hell, I’d already shown her houses that had everything on it and she still hated them. “You’ve had difficult clients before,” Liv says, clearly reading my thoughts, and being her cheerleader self. “You’ve got this.” I pause and collect myself. “You’re right. I’ve got this.” I run a hand over my eyes, suddenly feeling tired. “Ugh. It got late so fast. Go home. There’s no point in both of us sitting here looking through houses.” “You sure?” I drop my hand and smile. “Yup. I’ll be on my way soon, too.” I hate working late. Or if I must, I try to do it from home. Then I don’t feel like I’m working all the time. Liv steps away from my desk. “Okay, only if you’re sure.” “Yup, I’m sure.” She gathers her things at her desk and then blows me a kiss before leaving our office. Before I go, and to ensure I don’t think about the Lowes when I get home, I draw in a huge deep breath, shedding any tension in my voice, and pick up the phone again, dialing Jenny’s cellphone. “Hello,” she answers. “Hi, Jenny, this is Allie from Holt.” I use my happiest tone. “I was wondering when you were next available for some more showings?” If I had nothing that perfectly fit her requirements, I’d at least show her a couple of the nicest houses I could find. Because showing something is better than showing nothing at all.

“Actually, Peter and I are going away this weekend to the Hamptons. We won’t be back until Monday.” Score for me! “Sounds lovely,” I reply. “Leave this with me for the weekend then and I’ll find some more listings to show you on Monday morning. Does that work?” “Yes, that’s great. Goodbye, Allie.” “Bye.” I hang up the phone, flop back into my chair, and close my eyes, thanking the real estate gods. A couple more days to either let Kevin’s house pan out or to find something else spectacular is precisely what I need. The waiting game in real estate is the most stressful part, especially when dealing with people who have no patience. Luckily, I have lots, so usually things balance out okay. “Sleeping on the job? I should fire you.” I smile at the low voice filling my office, partly because I love the way Micah’s voice is almost caressing me with its rich vibrato. “I’m too important to fire,” I muse. “Now, that I won’t argue with.” I lift my head and reopen my eyes to him, suddenly well aware by the raising of the hairs on my arms and the flutter in my belly that we are very much alone at Holt tonight. I’m not even sure if it’s how he’s looking at me now in his commanding way, or if it’s only in my mind, but he seems decided about something. It’s like he’s decided about me. If I’m being honest, after today, I feel more decided about him, too. He leans against the doorframe, watching me carefully. “Another rough night, Miss Parker?” I kinda hate how easily he reads me. It makes me feel like an open book. Though I know that also comes from being a savvy businessman. Reading people well is what makes him good at what he does. I want to reply: My first deal with Holt is going to shit. I have a spoiled-rotten client who has no idea what she wants. All she knows is she wants a house better than her friends’. Instead, I tell him, “You could say that.” “Is Jenny becoming a problem for you?” he asks seriously, and I get the feeling if I say yes, he’ll intervene and fix the issue. Not something I want. “No, of course not,” I lie breezily. “The market is slow, so it’s been a frustrating week.” The pinch of his brow is fading away, my answer seemingly appeasing him, and a devilish grin rises to his face. “I spent a good couple of hours at the gym today working off some frustration myself.” “I could use a punching bag right now.” I power off my computer. Now that I have more time to find the Lowes a house, I’m getting the hell outta here. Slippers, a hot bath, and reality shows fill my mind with delightful promises of a relaxing night. When I glance at Micah again, there’s a new twinkle in his eyes. Even his voice lowers a little when he adds, “I bet I could remove your frustration faster than any punching bag.” I rise from my seat and push my chair under my desk. “Sure you could.” “You don’t think so?” I freeze at the way his voice dips even lower now. I’m not sure why in the hell I’m baiting him. I should shut my mouth and say nothing, but I’m so damn tired of fighting this and fighting him. A little harmless flirting didn’t hurt anyone, right? “Unless you’re going to let me punch you in the face, then

no, I don’t think so.” His grin is so haughty it should have me shutting this down now. But then I look into his eyes and the game is over. Earlier I lost all my judgments about him. Apparently, with my assumptions about him gone, I also lost the final shields I had up against him. Those eyes…that voice…those lips…that body, my nipples pucker beneath my blouse so quickly my breath is gone, heat is spiraling and pooling low in my body, making me wet, just that easily. One brow arches. “Now, that sounds like a dare.” I stay silent, not sure I can get proper words out. Because now I realize something that I should’ve thought about when I started this conversation. Flirting with a normal guy is harmless. Flirting with Micah is a dangerous game, because not only does he know how to flirt back, he’s confident enough to take that flirting and see it through to the end. I discover he’s taking my silence as acceptance of his dare, because he’s entering my office and locking the door behind him. I should be saying no, but I’m not, and we both know that I won’t. Not anymore. Because I want him as much as he wants me, and the arch of his mouth tells me he knows it, too. My mouth waters and my belly quivers when he clicks the button on the panel by the door and the blinds begin automatically shutting around us, except for at my back, where the skyline is glowing bright in the night. With each step he takes toward me, my breath hitches; my heartbeat hammering in my ears. He says nothing and I say nothing, as he moves right into my space until my back is flat against the glass; both his hands pressed next to my head. No one can see inside my office anymore, the blinds are completely shut, but I’m more focused on Micah and the way his woodsy citrusy scent circles in the air around me. My skin is flushing with an unnatural heat, and by the time he presses the strength of his body against mine, I’m shaking in a way that I can’t control. I want him to deliver on the promises he’s been silently giving me since we met. When he lifts his hand to my face, dragging his fingers along my cheek, I nearly open my mouth to beg him to fix this ache inside of me. To somehow make me me again, where everything makes sense, and where I’m not a woman so consumed with lust that logic leaves my mind. He presses the long length of his erection against my stomach, making me so damn needy to feel every inch of him, then he pins me between him and the glass, holding me still. I’m not even thinking about if this is wrong anymore, all I know is the way he’s looking at me and how right he feels. Beneath his strong stare, I see a man hungry to devour me, and I want him, too. Desperately. He grips my chin, those assessing eyes watching me carefully, as he slides his thumb across my bottom lip before addressing me again. “Tell me to stop and I will.” I should. I know that. But there isn’t a damn thing inside of me that’s thinking with logic. “Don’t stop.” Then his lips are on mine, and he becomes everything. There is no time. There is no thought. There is only the way he expertly kisses me, driving me higher, until my knees weaken. His kiss is slow at first and deliberately builds with each swipe of his mouth against mine. He’s nibbling my lips, sucking on my tongue, and I’m lost in how perfect I feel beneath his hands. I begin rubbing my stomach against his erection, tempting him to deliver on all those dark promises. He slides a hand across my face to the back of my head, where he tangles his fingers into my hair, locking me where he wants me, which is exactly where I want to be. A flare of heat descends through

my body and I shiver, feeling his other hand begin traveling up my thigh. I widen my legs, knowing where he’s going and wanting him to shamelessly go there. His gravelly chuckle brushes against my mouth, but I still can’t open my eyes. I’m lost, completely unraveling in the way his hands hold me, control me, own me. Each second feels like a minute long as he takes his time inching my skirt up to below my buttocks. I’m aware that I’m against a window. That by some chance anyone in the high-rise next to ours, who’s looking through binoculars, might see me. But those thoughts don’t shut me down, they wake me up. He wakes me up. He makes me feel alive. His fingers slide against my inner thigh, slowly, tenderly, appreciatively, and his kiss turns more urgent. I don’t know my body anymore. I’m reacting to him like I’m a puppet and he’s holding the strings. Each touch, each slow swirl of a finger, each time he stops, each time he moves again, it’s all a way to tease me and to steal my mind, placing my soul totally in his hands. By the time he tucks his fingers beneath my panties, sliding them aside, I’m a quivering mess that can hardly even kiss him anymore. My lips are parted and I’m panting, while he’s nibbling and licking my mouth where he wants, taking me how he wants, yet giving to me also. The cool air brushes my hot, slick flesh as he strokes the tip of his finger against my slit. “So wet, Allie,” he murmurs, stroking me again and again. “So fucking perfect.” I want to respond. I can’t. My legs are quivering as he stops kissing me, his lips resting on mine, our breaths brushing across each other. The tip of his finger works its way over my silky arousal, bringing all that warm wetness up in my sex, where he begins circling my clit with the lightest touch. My hands somehow find his arms, and I’m feeling his muscles flex, as his finger is moving faster, swirling harder. I move to lean my head back, when he nips my bottom lip. “Don’t move, love.” He slowly licks where he bit, soothing away the pain. “Stay still for me.” His fingers tighten in my hair and my mind silences, wanting to let go. I moan loudly and then I can’t stop, as he begins pressing harder on my bundle of nerves, working his finger from side to side —not fast and out of control, but focused and intent. Pleasure is sweeping like liquid fire through my veins. I’m gasping for air, shamelessly grinding myself against his hand. “Christ, you’re a sexy little thing,” he declares, fisting his hand in my hair, pulling on the strands. Then there is no me and him anymore. There is only the purest sensation sizzling through my body as his fingers do a spectacular dance across my clit, moving fast, and faster yet, as each second passes, sending me flying high. I know nothing until I know sheer satisfaction, and even after my mind returns to the present, it takes a few minutes to feel my body fully again. I can’t even open my eyes. My body is humming in glory. My frustration is gone. His lips find mine in the softest, sweetest kiss that is so contradictory to the man himself. It’s exactly what I need, and I don’t want him to ever stop, melting right into him until he whispers across my mouth, “Good night, Allie.” I have one second to look at him, seeing the coiled power he’s containing before he’s gone. I slide down the window, a panting, satisfied mess. “Oh, my God…”

Chapter 6

Micah I wake to a sheen of sweat covering my overheated flesh from a dream I want to forget. Too many days have passed since I met Allie, and my cock is aching for attention, to no surprise of my own. A smart, sexy woman bewitches me and I want to make her mine soon. Watching Allie orgasm last night, while not being buried deep inside of her, was a torture I can never endure again. I’ve gotten myself off three times since watching her come from my touch and it’s done nothing to rid me of my hunger. With these thoughts in my head, I move, naked and hard, toward the hotel’s bathroom. The Phoenix awes in its beauty. Even I remain impressed by the modern décor as I enter the marble rectangular bathroom. My rock-hard hard-on is standing straight up, unmoving with my steps and throbbing, reminding me how much I want Allie as I stride past the floating vanities and freestanding tub. I enter the glass-enclosed shower and turn the water on to hot, stepping inside to get the job done. This woman…fuck, what she’s doing to me. Steam fills the shower while I drop my head, letting the water run down my neck and along my back. I grab my erection none too gently and stroke hard and fast for release. I envision Allie’s lips around me, sucking deep from tip to base and back, rolling her tongue over the round top. Precum seeps from my cock, teasing me, and the water is making me believe it’s her. Then her eyes come into mind, those warm, soulful, ocean blue eyes, sliding past all my defenses and seeing me beyond my shields. My semen emerges, shooting from the tip with a deep grunt, leaving me trembling. Christ, she’s controlling my mind and my body, and I need to do something about that. Today. Once I recover, my breaths still heavy and deep, I shower quickly and dry off using the towel left on the tub by the hotel staff. I push Allie into the background of my thoughts, trying to recall what day it is and what I need to do. I dress in the freshly pressed black suit and light blue tie awaiting me in the closet and then I pick my cellphone up off the dresser. The phone rings twice before I hear, “Levi.” “I’ll be down in five minutes,” I tell him. “Copy.” I click End on the call, shoving my phone into the pocket of my trousers, and grab my keys from the dark wood dresser. I take a quick look at myself in the mirror above, adjusting my tie to perfection. I notice the shadows under my eyes, the darkness there swirling in the gray, threatening to come out. I cannot allow the beast freedom, not with Allie around. Silence surrounds me as I leave the hotel room and move toward the elevator, making my way down to the lobby. The staff is bustling when I arrive, which I assume is an order given by management. As the owner of Phoenix, I don’t doubt the managers are staying on top of their employees to look busy while I’m there. The manager quickly moves to me from across the lobby. “Do you need anything this morning, Mr. Holt?” “Nothing at the moment, Francis,” I reply, not a hitch in my step, traveling through the large foyer

and passing the fountain of angels in the center. The exterior door opens before I can ever get there and the bellboy smiles. “It’s a fine day, Mr. Holt.” “It is, Christopher.” I return the smile to the elderly gentleman who has worked this job for the last ten years. He won’t expect a tip from me, nor will anyone else here. I give Phoenix employees healthy amounts at the holidays as my gratitude for a year of good service. “Enjoy it.” “Thank you, sir,” Christopher replies, closing the door behind me. The sunny morning greets me, and the air is cooler than yesterday when I find Levi waiting at the curb, wearing his uniform of a black T-shirt and black cargo pants. He opens the car ’s door and I hurry into the backseat of the black Bentley. I fasten my seatbelt as Levi shuts the door and then takes his position in the front seat. In mere seconds, we’re driving down the street. I’m far away from thoughts of Allie deliciously sucking my dick and far from the dream that ruined my sleep. One thing I want to revisit. The other I do not. Some people have nightmares that haunt them. Others have happy dreams and enjoy them. In my late teens and early twenties, my dreams were filled with my deceased mother. While they might appear pleasant, I hate them. They make me feel weak. When my dreams return, so do my demons. “You look like shit.” I glance at the rearview mirror, spotting Levi’s eyes watching me carefully, assessing my mood. “A dream,” I answer his statement. “It’s been a long time since you’ve had one of those. Is Mom making more appearances lately?” Though thoughts of my mother are never far away, I reply to his question, “No. It’s another woman who’s haunting me now.” I intend to fix that, too. I grab my phone from my pocket and fire off a text to Neil and then I retreat in my mind, forming a plan for my first meeting this morning. By the time we reach Holt, and I’m exiting the elevator into the offices, I’m prepared and ready to face one of my greatest challengers. I’m even more confident as I pass Neil sitting behind his desk. He tells me, “Your nine o’clock is waiting for you in Diagon Alley, sir.” “Thank you. Hold all calls.” I don’t check in to see if anything important awaits me this morning, because all I can think of is the task ahead of me. I draw closer to the meeting room, noticing that Neil closed the blinds as I requested. I enter, glance down the long glass table, with the view of the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance before my attention falls to the brunette awaiting me. Allie is looking far too professional in her black pantsuit and teal blouse for the conversation ahead of us and is chewing her lip. “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” I say, shutting the door behind me. When I turn back to her, I see the blush of her cheeks and the way she’s not lifting her chin as she usually does around me. Yeah, girl…I haven’t forgotten last night either. “Not a problem.” Her voice is curious and quiet. “Listen, before you say anything, I’m sure we need to talk about last night.” “No, we’re not talking about last night.” I move to the head of the table, next to her, unbutton my jacket, and then shake the fabric off my shoulders, draping it over the back of the chair. I like how she’s staring at my every move as I roll up my sleeves. She’s wet right now and aching for me, I can tell by the way her breath is quickening and how she’s biting her bottom lip.

Good. That’s how I want her. I take my seat. “But I will tell you what we’re going to talk about.” A pause. Then, “Which is?” I lean forward, resting my arms on the table and clasping my fingers. “We’re going to hash out why you’re refusing a date with me.” She sputters a laugh. “You want to have a business meeting about why I don’t want to go on a date with you?” I nod. “Tell me your objections so I can deal with them.” She hesitates, crossing and then uncrossing her legs beneath the table. “You cannot be serious.” “I’m very serious.” I narrow my eyes on her, loving the way she’s squirming in her seat. I can only imagine she’s remembering the way I touched her, kissed her, and how I stole the damn orgasm right out of her. But all I can remember is the smell of her, the sounds she made, and the warmth and wetness against my fingers. I want to taste her. I want to own her. “What’s your first objection?” “Um…” She’s staring at me with wide eyes. Clearly, I’ve stumped her. “We’re not leaving this room until you name your objections,” I tell her, more firmly now. I need to explore things with her. I need answers before my demons overwhelm me. It’s too dangerous for Allie to be with me then. And every day, every minute, every second that I’m with her, she seems to be pulling that darkness out faster. I need to fuck her. She needs to let me quiet the beast. “Okay,” she finally says, lifting her chin. “You’re my boss.” I smile swiftly. “Therefore, I can make the rules.” Her lips thin, eyes tight at the corners. “No, you think you can make the rules, but it’s my name that could get dragged through the mud.” A hot flush swipes over my body, tightening my jaw. “Dating me is comparable to being dragged through the mud?” She shrugs, holding my eye contact in the way I like. “You have a reputation that I’m sure I don’t need to point out to you. I’ve worked hard to get where I am professionally. I won’t risk my career like that.” A valid point, I thought. One I intend to crush anyhow. “Have you ever read in the tabloids about me dating anyone here at Holt?” “No.” “I’ve dated five people and all five of those women still work here.” Her nose scrunches, and I can tell my answer is a double-edged sword. “While that might not be what you want to hear, it also shows you that I know how to keep professional and personal separate. If nothing comes of our date, only you and I will know about it. Believe me, I won’t let the tabloids photograph you.” I see by the way her shoulders droop that what I’ve said pleases her. Regardless, she fires off her next excuse. “I haven’t dated in over a year, because I’ve been focused on my career. It’s important to me. I don’t want the complication of a relationship right now.” “I’m not asking for a relationship,” I say easily, gazing over the soft lines of her face. My fingers twitch to feel her skin heat under my hands like I did so easily last night. I want to hear those soft moans and feel them brushing down my neck while I thrust deep inside her. I lift my eyes to hers, which are becoming more heated as the seconds drag on. “I’m asking for a date. Two people. One dinner. One night.”

She inhales a big deep breath and then blows it out slowly, enough for me to remember how her breath hitches right before climax and how she releases a perfect little squeak. “I don’t do one-night stands,” she continues. “If that’s what you’re looking for, you should look elsewhere.” “Good to know.” I fold my arms, lean back in my chair, actually glad. My possessive side likes that. If she doesn’t do one-night stands then I can only assume Allie hasn’t had many lovers. All mine, the beast purrs inside. “But I never said anything about sex. I said I want a date.” I like the way she blushes when I add, “And I also believe that last night proves enough that my pleasure is not on my mind. Therefore, your objection is also irrelevant.” A long few seconds of silence passes before she breaks the staring contest and shakes her head. “Why won’t you let this go?” “You know why,” I tell her. Again, she silently stares at me. I don’t understand her objection. Christ, last night she let me get her off. Now she’s having second thoughts? Regardless of what her mind is telling her, I see the way her lips part under my regard and how she’s trembling slightly. I see the flush over her cheeks and how her eyes undress me. I intend to fully help her understand why neither of us should ignore this. I’m done waiting. No more refusing me. I rise and move to her, watching her eyes widen, pupils becoming large and dark. When I grab the back of her chair, wheeling her out from under the table and turn her toward me, she leans into me and her face is deepening in color. My cock hardens to steel as I inhale her sweet scent, while I brace on the armrests, bringing my face close to hers, noticing her firm eye contact; telling signs for me not to stop. “This is why I can’t leave you alone.” I lift my fingers, pleased when she stays put, as I drag them gently down the long lines of her neck, feeling her tremble. Her lips part wide, inviting me to kiss her. I lick mine, desperate to seal my mouth over hers. Temptation is driving me to touch her and I’m staring at my fingers sliding over her collarbone then up her neck to her jawline, feeling her skin heat under my touch. But I can’t kiss her. I need her to hear me. “The pull that I feel toward you is rare. You make me do things I would never do; break rules I would never break.” Her legs part and she’s tempting me to slide my fingers up to her warmth again. “The only thing that is stopping me from fucking you right here, right now, until we break this goddamn table, is you.” She lifts her chin, exposing her neck to me, and I slide my hand across her warm skin, feeling her pulse hammering beneath my palm. “We could ignore this thing between us and pretend that one date isn’t worth all the risks you’ve stated. Or we could see exactly why”—I tangle my fingers into her hair at her nape, tugging a little, and lowering my voice—“this feels so damn good.” “Micah…” she breathes, leaning up to kiss me. I drop my hand and step back. “You want more, Allie. We go on a date. That’s how this works.” She flops back into her chair, breathing deeply and crossing her legs tightly. I know she’s squeezing her legs together and feeding pleasure to her swollen clit, because I already know how sensitive she is and how aroused she becomes by my touch alone. “Well…”—she finally draws in a long breath and releases it slowly—“…you’ve made your position perfectly clear.” I stuff a hand in my pocket, stroking the side of my hard cock, wishing it’s her damn fingers,

awaiting her next move. Eyes on me, she rises and pushes the chair under the table, then heads swiftly toward the door. “You’ll let me know where to meet you tonight?” “Who says our date is tonight?” I call out. She opens the door and glances over her shoulder. “I do.” Then she smiles. It’s warm. It’s real. It swallows me whole.

Chapter 7

Allie “Wait. What? You said yes!” Sitting on my couch, surrounded by the soft lighting coming from the lamps on the end tables, I stare into Taylor ’s wide eyes through the iPad screen. “Yup, I said yes.” “But why?” she continues with a frown. “I thought you were totally against the idea of dating him.” “Oh, I was.” I fiddle with the long necklace over the top of my favorite little black dress, not at all surprised that I changed my mind about Micah. Little did he know I had already mentally agreed to our date at Holt’s Day. Everything that followed after was only confirmation I had made the right choice, including the night in my office. But the biggest deciding factor was his agreement to ensure I stayed out of the tabloids. I’m no idiot, and Micah had unchecked all my concerns about him, so there’s no reason for me to stop this anymore. This guy lights up my body and touches my soul. I want to explore that. “Things with him are weird and powerful and intense and scary. I don’t know… he seems so different, so unlike the guys I’ve met before. There’s a sweetness and depth to him that’s hidden under that sexy body.” Taylor giggles. I wait until she stops, then add, “So, today, he negotiated the date and expertly knocked off every objection I had, making me feel better about it all. Then he touched me and, Taylor, my God, he is hot. I’ve never felt like I do with him. The guy is so damn sexy it practically oozes out of him, so my mouth just opened and I said yes.” “Okay, well, this is good, isn’t it?” Taylor asks. I shrug. “Maybe.” “Why maybe?” “Like I said…” I add with a smile, “…it’s weird and powerful and intense and scary.” I can’t forget these things about Micah. I need to go into this with my eyes wide open, never forgetting that a part of me is still on guard with him. She jumps on her bed, sending the iPad screen bouncing around, and leans against her fabriccovered headboard. “Well, that’s better than being normal and boring.” “True.” “What else did he say to you?” “Be ready outside of your condo at 8 P.M .” “That’s all he said?” For the past hour, while getting ready, Micah’s text to me had been on repeat. One second he’s hot as fire, sweet and sensitive. The next second he’s cold as ice. It’s a little confusing. “Yep, that was it.” “What did you say back?” “I told him that I’d meet him at the restaurant.” She smiles, and I notice the dark circles under her eyes are gone tonight. “Of course you did. And what was his response?”

I’m sending my driver to you was what Micah had texted. I texted back: I don’t want to be photographed with you and be splashed all over some trashy magazine. You promised that wouldn’t happen. His response took less time than mine did: You want to have dinner somewhere private, then? Yes, I replied. That can be arranged. Okay, where? I’m sending my driver, Allie. I could almost hear the exasperation in his tone at that comment. Micah…I had hoped he heard mine, too. Which he followed up with, I take your privacy seriously. My driver is trained to protect you. Be ready at 8 p.m. I sigh to myself, rehashing that frustrating conversation in my mind, but saving Taylor from the power struggle. “He won the argument, of course. But let me tell you, if I’m on a magazine cover tomorrow, things are going to get ugly.” Because I’m not ready to go there. I like my life. I like my privacy. I don’t want things to change. Taylor laughs in her easy way. “Your situation sounds more complicated than mine.” “It is what it is. And I’m going with it.” I place the iPad on my crossed legs, staring down at her, a few strands of hair falling beside my face. “We’ll see what happens tonight. This could be an epic disaster.” If I learned anything from the death of my parents, it’s to live to the fullest. I won’t stop the natural flow of where things are going with Micah, but I will protect myself. “Before I go, tell me, how are things with Shawn?” “Things are”—she bows her head, voice small—“whatever they are. We’re trying to work through it.” I wonder how does one work through someone cheating on them. For me, it’s a dead stop to any relationship. “Has he finally admitted to cheating?” Healing couldn’t happen without the truth laid out. “I mean, do you know everything?” “He doesn’t need to admit to anything.” She tilts her head, fiddling with her side braid. “His eyes say it all.” Her insecurity bothers me, tightening a knot in my stomach. The things she says, the stuff she puts up with, it’s so unlike her. “Are you getting couple’s therapy or something?” “No. We’re doing this ourselves.” I frown, knowing sadly that Taylor is probably pushing this whole thing under the rug. “Well, that’s good, I guess.” I pause to consider what to say to her. Having no advice but to leave him, I go with what truly matters to me. “And you? How are things for you? Feeling a bit better?” “I’m getting there.” She gives a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. My chest squeezes and I look away to avoid her, when I notice on the stove’s clock that I have five minutes to get downstairs. “Listen, babe, I gotta go. I’ll call you later and tell you how things go tonight.” “Every. Single. Detail.” “You know I will.” I blow her a kiss through the iPad. When the screen goes blank, I leave my iPad on the couch and grab my black shawl and clutch on

the way out, locking the door behind me. Within minutes, I’m exiting the elevator and passing by the security guard, until I make it outside. The wind whooshes by me, and I wrap my shawl around my shoulders, finding a sleek black Bentley waiting by the curb. A tall man, wearing a black T-shirt and cargo pants, waits for me by the passenger-side door. “Good evening, Miss Parker.” The rugged man with a five o’clock shadow offers a smile that seems genuine, yet lacks warmth. “I need to get you into the car quickly. Paparazzi followed me for a good quarter mile before I lost them. Let’s not take any chances, shall we?” That got my ass moving. In a second flat, I’m in the car with the blacked-out windows. When the driver joins me, shutting the door behind him, I say, “Thank you for that.” I guess I should thank Micah, too. So far, his promises are upheld and that makes me smile and relax a little. The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror. “It’s not a problem, ma’am.” Okay, the ma’am is weird but I can only assume he’s former military. He’s got that vibe. There’s strength and wisdom in his round copper eyes. Like he’s seen a lot of things I wouldn’t want to see. I lean forward, offering my hand through the seats. “It’s a pleasure to meet you…” His brows rise. Clearly, my personal gesture surprises him, but he recovers quickly. His large, rough, calloused hand closes around mine. “Levi Ward, ma’am.” Once I settle into my seat and secure my seatbelt, he drives off, heading toward the Financial District. I take in the busy road and the people going about their night, but who am I kidding? I’m curious about the man who’s driving me around. I wonder if knowing more about Levi will let me know more about Micah. “How long have you worked for Micah?” I ask. “For about five years now, ma’am.” I cross my legs with a laugh, feeling the rich, smooth leather seat beneath my bare thighs. “You really don’t have to call me ma’am. Allie works.” “It’s an old military habit, ma’am.” He smirks. I shake my head at his dancing eyes, but I’m glad my instincts about him are sharp. “Have you always been a driver?” Levi turns the car to the right, heading down California Street. “No, not always. I did two tours in Iraq, then worked for the Secret Service for a short time before moving into the private security sector.” I perk up at that. “You left the Secret Service to work for Micah?” “Yes, ma’am.” Interesting. “Can I ask why?” Levi stops the car at the red streetlight. His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror again. “I had one child at the time, and another on the way, and I have a wife who deserves all I can give her.” “Ah, so the pay was better?” “Yes, ma’am.” I smile at Levi. The world could use more men like him, even if the ma’am really began to annoy me. Here’s a guy who doesn’t want money for selfish reasons. He wants money to provide for his family. Very respectable. “I can only imagine that Micah has you at his beck and call, so it’s good he takes care of you.” The car slows, the purr of the engine softening. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him, ma’am.” I note the pride in Levi’s voice. Part of me wonders if his loyalty to Micah comes from the money

Levi makes. The other part of me wonders if they have a friendship that goes beyond a professional one. “Including picking up his dates,” I say, dryly. Levi, smartly, doesn’t respond. When we reach California Center, Levi parks the car at the curb. He glances over his shoulders at me, his eyes stern. “Please stay in the car until I open the door. I want to sweep the area.” I watch him leave, and while embarrassment begins to warm my face, I appreciate Levi’s care to ensure I won’t be photographed. I can see why Micah pays him well. Levi is good at his job. Only a minute passes before my door opens. “All clear, ma’am.” “Thank you.” I exit the car, finding that I’m standing in front of Phoenix. “Please follow me,” Levi says, striding forward. I stare at his strong back, following behind him as we enter the left tower of the hotel. Passing beneath crystal chandeliers and stepping across marble floors, I follow Levi toward an elevator at the back, behind the lobby. Once inside, Levi hits the button for the top floor and soon I’m exiting the elevator and Levi is leading me down the hallway, finally stopping at a door with gold trim. “You’ll find Micah on the balcony.” He opens the door for me. I instantly regret my decision to ask for a private dinner instead of a very public one. I’m not sure I trust myself alone with Micah with a bed nearby. The epic mistake of our date might be me jumping him. I turn to Levi and smile. “Thank you.” “Enjoy your evening, ma’am.” Levi grins kindly, warming his stern eyes, yet strength lives there, too. I oddly like it. He makes me feel safe. “Micah will call me to take you home whenever you’re ready.” “Perfect, and please call me Allie.” Levi hesitates and then his smile softens. “Okay, Allie.” I leave him behind and enter the hotel room, feeling proud that I broke through the well-trained soldier to the more personal side of him. My heels click against the marble floors as Levi closes the door behind me. Soft piano music is playing through the speakers in the living room as I enter the space. I notice personal items laying about the suite, like a laptop and cellphone on the coffee table. Which isn’t much of a surprise since Micah already told me he stays here because it’s close to Holt. Straight ahead, I see two open French doors, the curtains are waving in the wind, and I move toward them. The moment I pass through the threshold, my breath becomes stuck in my throat, instant arousal tightening my stomach and setting me ablaze. Standing by the steel railing of the balcony, Micah’s not wearing his jacket or his vest that I usually see him in, he’s wearing black dress pants and a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. He’s not wearing a tie, the few buttons open showing a bit of his bare chest. In a suit, Micah wows me. A little disheveled, he blows my friggin’ mind. The heat he conjures inside me roars like flames through my veins, pumping swiftly, settling right between my thighs, where all my logical thoughts are stolen and only my carnal desires remain. “Allie.” His haughty smile tells me he knows I like what I see.

“Micah.” I step toward him, taking in the view around me. A table is set up next to Micah with candles lit. The San Francisco Bay, Golden Gate Bridge, and the surrounding city sparkling in the dark night are all visible from this patio. Everything is perfect. The view. The powerful man. The glamour. It’s everything a woman should want. Yet it’s everything I don’t.

Micah The wind picks up the second Allie steps out onto the patio and her long hair waves around her face. So much beauty stands before me I can barely contain my desire to claim it. Inside, I’m being pulled to her. I can’t refuse the call. Her spirit shines bright. She exudes warmth. I want to bottle up what she has to offer me and keep it for myself. She draws closer, and with each step I begin to take note of her stiff posture and my body becomes equally weighted with my own disappointment. I know women, inside and out. I understand them. Just as I know now that Allie wants to be anywhere but here with me. One second I have her lusting over me. The next she’s gone from my reach, just that easily. I can’t shield the bite in my voice. “What about this…” I wave out over the romantic private dinner I planned for her, “is so disappointing to you?” Eyes wide, she freezes, standing only a few feet away. “It’s”—she draws in a deep breath before speaking again—“beautiful, but it’s not my type of thing. I’m sorry if that showed on my face.” I lift a brow at her. “A fancy, romantic dinner is not your type of thing?” Is this woman for real? She laughs softly and gives a slight shrug. “Not really, no. But this is nice, really. Gosh, what a view.” I don’t like anyone trying to placate me. In fact, I hate that I can’t get a read on her, almost as if she has barriers against me. The patio lights glow over her, and I become lost in her eyes. They’re so honest—they spin the world around me, making me realize I asked the wrong question. “Tell me, then: what would be the perfect date to you?” She hesitates, her eyes searching mine. “You honestly want to know?” “Do enlighten me.” “Oh, well, it’s pretty simple, really.” She takes another step toward me, and the wind breezes by again, lifting her skirt slightly. Even the universe is tempting me with what I can’t have. I look at her face as she continues. “Eating burgers and fries and chatting about personal stuff is more romantic to me than fancy china and a five-course meal.” “You want to talk about personal stuff?” I frown. “Yup, the deep stuff.” I arch a brow. “The deep stuff?” “That’s right.” She closes in, staring up at me with those warm eyes. “Something personal. One question.” My skin crawls at the direction she wants me to go. But can I release her, which I know will happen if I refuse her, I ask myself. No. Can I cross a boundary that I’ve set in place to keep a safe distance in relationships? Apparently, with her, I can, and I don’t overthink my choice. “What do you want to know?” She pauses. “Tell me why Holt’s Day is so personal to you.”

I swallow deeply, my mental alarms screaming at me not to answer her, as they did the day of the event, though I’m not shocked she won’t let this drop. She sensed something that day. Of course she’s curious. She hasn’t been the first one, but no one has ever cleverly backed me into a corner, demanding an answer either. “Did you know that my mother died?” I ask her. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t,” she replies softly. “She died from breast cancer when I was seven years old.” Emotion rises in my throat and I forcibly swallow again, shoving the memory away. “I don’t recall much about her anymore, just faint memories.” I pause, moving to the chair at the dining table. I take a seat, bowing my head and resting my arms on my knees. “My father raised me, after she passed away weeks after my birthday.” I look up at Allie then, seeing her listening intently to me, seeing the appreciation in her eyes for my honesty. I don’t pretend to understand why my demons interest her, but this won’t break me to tell her. “Have you heard about my father?” She nods, clutching the shawl around her shoulders. “I’ve read a little bit about him in magazine articles.” I’m not surprised. Everyone in San Francisco knew the name Anthony Holt. He was a self-made multimillionaire who dominated the financial industry. “I learned many lessons from my father as a child, but they were only to shape me into being a businessman.” She moves next to me, resting against the edge of the small round table. “I’ve heard of men like him. Loveless, right?” There in her eyes is a common understanding and something familiar, as if she’s been through what I have, but I find that hard to believe. “My father was a ruthless businessman, nothing more and nothing less, and he molded me to be like him. He was also the exact opposite of what I remember of my mother. Where he was cold and demanding, she was kind and loving.” I force the tale of my past through my tight chest and inhale, begging my lungs to expand and ease the tension. “I imagine my mother would’ve been happy with anything I did. But I learned from a young age that to succeed in my father ’s eyes I needed to do better than him in business.” Allie pauses to consider me. “Do you hate him for that?” “No. I felt something worse for him. I didn’t care about him at all.” Her shoulders droop, spine bows, but I continue, as now it’s important to tell her everything. “The second I had made enough money, I bought his business and kicked him out of his own company. Then I dismantled it.” Her nose wrinkles as she steps away from the table. Who would do that to their own father? echoes in the air between us. Well, I could and I did, and I remember the dark feeling I experienced that day. “And you know what?” “What?” she whispers, hugging her shawl to her chest. I shut my eyes, recalling in my mind what he said to me that day. Now you’re a man, Micah. Now you’ve made me proud. Coldness sinks into my bones when I open my eyes to Allie. “It was the only time he told me that he was proud of me.” Her pretty, soft eyes are searching mine, and I know she’s trying to figure me out and understand how this story relates to her original question. “What happened after that day?” she finally asks. “He died the next afternoon of a heart attack.” The patio lighting is giving her skin a delicate glow and I can’t look away from her when she offers a small smile. “It’s good you had the chance to hear him say that he was proud of you.”

“Is it?” I’m starting to realize Allie’s affection has no boundaries. Even as I tell her my demons, she smiles in the face of them. “His pride didn’t make me feel better, it made me feel worse.” “Why?” “Because I realized that I became the man I couldn’t even conjure a single feeling for.” There’s so much gentleness radiating from Allie that I think, for this second, she can erase the coolness in my soul. “So, to answer your question, the reason why I organized Holt’s Day is because children don’t see me as a businessman. They don’t see me as a threat. They want nothing from me except my time. They have an untouched happiness that I once saw in my mother.” I pause, then tell Allie a truth I haven’t told anyone before. “Holding the event reminds me of her and reminds me of the way she used to look at me.” Silence. I bow my head, unable to look at the heavy emotion filling Allie’s face, realizing my heart is banging against the walls of my chest and my fingers are in fists. I expect her to walk away. For her sake, she should. What I did to my father must disgust her. The man I’ve become must repulse her. I’m bare to her, in a way I haven’t been to anyone in a long time, and she’s seeing past all my defenses, as she seems to do so very easily. “You know what I think?” she whispers. Her soft, sweet voice soothes the tightness of my muscles. I lift my head and find her soulful eyes staring right through me. “What do you think?” “I think that you’re more than what your father tried to make you.” I have a second to absorb the shock of her statement, wondering how she can possibly see me in such a positive light, before her lips are on mine, throwing me off completely. It’s not her kiss making me struggle; it’s the power behind her lips pressing tightly against mine. It’s the magic in the offer she’s giving me now to take her in any way I want and need. My legendary discipline collapses, shattering to pieces. I give all of myself to her through the kiss, unable to deny her. Each soft swipe of her lips pours a single truth between us. Allie, with a soul beaming with light, wants to heal the darkness in me that I showed her at Holt’s Day and that I’m admitting to now. Maybe she even thinks she can rid me of my demons. Truth be told, right now, right here, I want her to.

Chapter 8

Allie I can’t recall how we got into the bedroom. I’m not sure how much time has passed since my lips met Micah’s. I’m not even sure what made me kiss him or what made me decide not to stop. All I know is his strong body pressing against mine as he’s lowering me to my feet after being held in his arms. His tight grip eases around my waist; his mouth expertly moving across mine with long, sensual swirls of his tongue, while he tangles his fingers into my hair, tugging my head to where he wants it. He kisses in ways I don’t know and have never experienced. It’s unhurried and intent and powerful, and I’m melting under the way he feels against my skin. My body burns when he groans, low and deep, making me wet. His kiss turns raw, primal, and now I know a new Micah. A man who isn’t holding back or being careful with me. He wants me. He’s taking me. And I’m going to let him. His fiery touch cements my decision to stop fighting against something that I knew from day one was a losing battle. There’s something here, something special, something so damn undeniable I can no longer pretend I don’t want it. I can’t refuse the way my heart reaches for him. I also can’t ignore the desire and electricity between us. He makes me feel like I’m his for this night. I want this. I want him. A needy sound I don’t recognize rushes from my mouth, and his soft masculine growl echoes my noises. Both of his hands tighten on my hips before they are sliding up my body, where he gathers my hair, pulling the strands over my shoulder. I feel the tug on the zipper of my dress and I’m shivering when he pulls the fabric from my shoulders, leaving me in my black bra and panties. I open my eyes, looking into his, finding them smoldering as he flicks the clasp on my bra and slowly eases the straps off my shoulders. His eyes…Dear God, they’re nothing I’ve ever seen before, and I’m trembling now, both nervousness and excitement running through me. He’s a mix of immense power and complete focus, and is exactly as I imagined he’d be once I said yes, only I couldn’t have anticipated what this would do to me. Goosebumps prickle my flesh when he glances at my breasts, stares for a good few seconds before he leans down and kisses the top of each, almost as a thank-you for letting him touch me. It’s oddly sensual and sweet, all the same. When he takes my nipples between his fingers and thumbs, pulling slightly, he looks me in the eye. I moan in surprise, as it appears those rough tugs are directly connected to my hot sex and each pull ignites a deep throb inside of me. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs, giving two more hard pulls, leaving me wiggling with sensation. His smile becomes heated as he tilts his head down, cupping my breast, sucking my nipple to the roof of his mouth. My eyes flutter shut as he releases the taut bud, moving on to the other nipple, using the same wicked swirls of his tongue.

I feel the void of his wet mouth when he leans away, sliding his lips off my breast. I’m breathless now, watching him lower to one knee before me, and my teeth clench when he hooks his fingers into the sides of my panties and pulls them down. “So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, tossing my panties aside, staring boldly at my shaved sex. My cheeks are flushing with arousal, not embarrassment, as he reaches for the buttons of his shirt, slowly flicking each one open. He continues examining every inch of my skin, licking his lips. I feel myself trembling, anticipating him touching me. His gaze travels up my stomach to my breasts, and the side of his mouth arches when he lingers on the pucker of my nipples. I lock my knees, feeling weak when he tosses his shirt aside, but then surprise overwhelms me. He chuckles. “Not what you expected?” “No, not at all,” I tell him. It’s not his ripped abs, sexy indents at his hips, or the way this guy screams masculinity that’s shocking me; I expected his body to be this hot. I drag my fingers over his muscular shoulders, following the design of the black and gray tattoos covering his wide shoulders, muscular arms, and firmly squared bare chest. “You hide these well.” I can’t even make everything out in the design; his tattoos look more like a giant piece of artwork all blended together, but I do see Greek mythology is an influence. There’s an angel on one shoulder and a warrior on the other. Just as I’m getting lost in the meaning behind his tattoos, he tucks a finger under my chin, arching an eyebrow at me. “Let’s not focus so much on my body, shall we?” He gives me one very thorough once-over, grinning devilishly. “Not when I have this body in front of me.” I tighten my hands against his shoulders watching him lean in and kiss my stomach. Oh, God…My legs begin trembling as he moves lower…and lower…I ache in places I never knew could ache before, when he places his face by my sex and inhales deeply. His eyes flutter, the side of his mouth slowly arching, as if my scent alone brings him pleasure. He drags his hands up my quivering thigh, until he’s squeezing my ass firmly. The low moan he gives does more for me than any foreplay ever has before. And when his head lowers, and I feel the long slow lick of his tongue across my clit, my head falls back, and a hiss slides through my teeth. I thread my fingers into his hair, holding him tight against me, urging him to take me where I want to go. He’s teasing me with light licks, leaving me hungry for more. He likes this. I can tell. He wants me to crave him. When I begin to shake, his deep chuckle brushes warm air against my sensitive flesh and he listens to my desires, inserting a finger. My eyelids pinch shut and I get what I want, more of Micah. Warmth is spreading across me as he moves his finger too slowly, in and out, in a perfect rhythm. I grip the strands of his hair tight, my mouth falling open with the pleasure, as another finger joins his first and fills me. Looking at him, I find his focus solely on my face. “God, don’t stop,” is all I can say. It’s all so much. Micah’s so much. His touch is so much. His pleasure is so much. I’m falling into him; losing myself in the rich power exuding from him. But then his eye contact is gone and his tongue slides over my sex in a way not to pleasure me, but to taste me, and I become undone. My entire body shakes and trembles and his tongue begins to swirl in circles overtop my bundle of nerves. I’m gasping and moaning in appreciation, until he sucks the bud between his teeth, while pumping his fingers faster inside of me. Every nerve ending awakens and the choice is not mine when I come into orgasm. He’s stealing the pleasure right of my body, and I can only follow, crashing into

wave after wave of mind-numbing sensation, until all I am is a quivering mess of satisfaction. I’m not sure when I return to the present. I only know his lips on mine, gently bringing me back from where he sent me. His mouth begins to travel to places no one had ever cared about before. He’s claiming every inch of my flesh; my shoulder, my breasts and nipples, my hip, my stomach; his openmouthed kisses blaze fire across me, and he doesn’t stop kissing me until I’m fully aware again. My fingers are aching to touch him when he picks me up in his arms. I want to draw his cock in between my lips. I want to taste him on my tongue like he tasted me. But his eye contact is firm as he lays me out on the bed, declaring that’s not my choice tonight. He wants me. And now he’ll take me. He looks away when he moves to the nightstand, taking a condom from the drawer. I can’t stop watching him, while he’s opening his belt and then the buttons of his slacks. When he shoves his pants down and they fall at his ankles, I shamelessly stare at his thick cock with veins protruding on the sides. God, he’s big. I lick my lips, watching him rip the condom wrapper open then sheathe his erection, teasing me with the way his hand strokes over his hardened flesh. I scan his body, which is sculpted enough to make me feel feminine and protected, yet not enough to overwhelm me. My mouth becomes moist, and I swallow the increased saliva as I lift my eyes to his. My breath quickens; Micah is a lot of man to absorb. He suddenly pauses at whatever he sees on my face. “Never be afraid of me.” “I’m not scared,” I admit, breathlessly, closing my hands, stopping the tremble. “I’m nervous. I haven’t done this in a while.” And I’ve never been with a man like you, I leave unsaid between us. His smile slowly builds. “Ah, love, the way I feel right now should make you a little nervous.” He returns to me, his stride is so Micah—confident, not in a hurry, determination oozing from him. A shift happens near my heart, a pang of sorts, when all that man crawls his way to me on the bed. The soft strands of his hair fall free of the gel, while he slides his warm, hard body over mine. “You’ve made me wait,” he adds, hovering above me, his voice a low rumble, “and that is never a good thing.” His lips seal with mine and he steals the kisses right out of my mouth. Heat is flooding my body as his hand is sliding over my hip bone, squeezing me there, before traveling down my thigh, where he drapes my leg across his hip. I’m moaning against his mouth when he grinds his condom-covered cock between my thighs, perfectly connecting with my clit, drawing pleasure from my swollen, aroused bud. He feels like a dream come true. His touch is like a fantasy. I part my mouth to moan against the pleasure of being pinned by his body and he plunges his tongue in deep. I can’t take anymore. I ache so much it hurts. I want him like a craving that’s soul deep. It’s all him. It’s not just the kiss, nor is it the feeling of his cock, it’s having him on top of me. It’s not enough. I need all of him. I’m wiggling against him and lifting my hips, begging him to enter me. His low groan flutters in my belly as he leans away, staring at me with eyes so hot and wicked they could melt ice. “Goddamn it,” he growls, flipping me over onto my stomach. The hairs raise on my arms and nape when he gathers my wrists, pinning both hands above my head with one of his. He straddles my thighs, pushing my legs together. He squeezes both my ass cheeks before giving one a hard slap. I’m squealing from the confusing likable heat on my bottom when his condom-covered

cock is at my slit and I gasp loudly as he enters me from behind in one swift stroke. So big. So hard. My hands ball into fists, as he pushes against my back, pinning me to the bed and stretching me completely for his pleasure. He shifts his hips slowly, allowing my slick heat to accept him before he unleashes all that power onto me. That’s when I realize my body no longer belongs to me. It’s his to take what he wants. And I want to give him it all, because he’s given to me, too. I’m learning about a pleasure that’s foreign to me, screaming into the duvet. Every pound of his thrusts against me, each slide of his spectacular cock, has me arching up into him. I want to look at him—am desperate to, in fact—to see what he looks like when he takes me, but I can’t move. That’s when I know that pleasure isn’t mine to command, but mine to be given. I don’t take from Micah. He gives to me. My eyes roll back in my head, and I realize I like his aggressiveness. It’s dominating. It’s powerful. It’s everything. The scent of our sex rushes through my nostrils, slaps of skin against skin echo in my ears. His rough hands taking me how he wants without apologies, and the way he owns my body without any regret, gives me everything I hadn’t known I’d been missing. His thick cock is filling me deeply, pumping in and out, and the sheer force of his pelvis smacking against my ass is silencing my mind and awakening nerve endings never before awakened. My moans are now one long sound and sweat is coating my skin. I cannot move. I can’t think. I don’t know how to free myself from the pressure building inside of me. It’s all overwhelming me and I’m spiraling out of control… I suddenly feel the weight of his body on mine; his low voice right by my ear, tickling my neck. “Do you want to come, Allie?” “Yes!” I pant. “Please!” “Give it to me,” he murmurs in a voice I’m sure could make me orgasm alone. It’s low. It’s slow. It’s his. Then the weight of his body is gone and he squeezes my ass so tight and then slaps my cheeks twice, bringing heat to my lower body. The burn on my flesh as his fingers grip my skin, matched with his cock driving unforgivingly into me delivers me into euphoria without any sort of warning and I’m squeezing him tight, rolling through wave after wave of pleasure. His thrusts become frantic, hard, fast pounds against me. His low, gravelly moans keep me riding the high I hope to never return from, when I feel the sting on my shoulder, the teeth scraping against my flesh. “Fuck!” I scream, my toes pointing, as he sends me soaring higher while he’s bucking and jerking against me. Sometime later, I come to realize he’s lying on my back; his sweaty skin plastered to mine; his chest heaving up and down against me. He releases my wrists and flips me over, settling between my legs. I make no move to help him. I can’t. I’m boneless. He swipes the hair off my face. Dark, sexy, smoky eyes meet mine. “Did that make you forget?” I manage to force my mind back into coherent thinking. “Forget?”

He drops both hands beside my head, hovering over me, and his brow curves arrogantly. “Forget any remaining objections you had about me?” I laugh softly, breathless. “Hell yes.” “Good.” He lowers his head into my neck. We’re both catching our breaths, while he reaches up to my wrists and begins rubbing them. I realize in those quiet seconds after an orgasm that Micah offers unimaginable pleasure. Addictive pleasure. And I want more.

Chapter 9

Allie The following morning, loud beeping pierces the silence. My hand moves to the end table, where the noise is coming from, and smacks against the snooze button on the clock to make it go away. I pull the duvet up over my shoulder, wanting to ignore the sun beaming on my face. Frustratingly, a minute later, the beeping begins again, reminding me that I hadn’t set the clock, which also reminds me that I’m not alone in the bed, and Micah likely set the clock before falling asleep. Considering we had sex more times last night than I’ve had in the last year, I forgive myself for not recalling him setting the alarm. But I’m sure glad he thought to, or I would be late this morning. Real estate agents work Saturdays, and that’s nonnegotiable. Wide awake now and thinking of all the crap I have to do, including finding the Lowes as many possibilities as I can by Monday, I blink away the sleepy haze, feeling the strains of my body from the most amazing sexual experience of my life. Every muscle aches, including parts of my body that feel a little bruised from Micah’s roughness, as well as the junction between my thighs, but I enjoy these particular aches. Which now reminds me that I’m very naked and maybe being late for work to get more of Micah wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I flip over to face him, finding an empty bed next to me. Coldness sweeps across me so fast, stealing my breath, I jerk up to sitting. I pull the cream-colored duvet with me, knowing that he’d been there. I remember falling asleep in his arms, and the sheets beside me are messy and the pillow looks slept on. “Micah,” I call out. When I hear footsteps coming from the living room, I sigh in relief, glad to know he hadn’t left me. I reach up, flattening out my hair and wiping under my eyes, removing any leftover makeup, when a feminine Spanish voice says, “I’m sorry…” The maid, wearing the hotel’s uniform of all black with a Phoenix’s logo on the right arm, enters the bedroom. “Mr. Holt had an early morning meeting and asked me to make sure you got these.” She can’t even look at me when she places a pin-striped pantsuit on the bed. I refuse to look at her either, wishing to be anywhere but here. “Please take your time,” she eventually adds, staring at her shoes. “I brought some makeup and everything else you need to start your day.” She turns on her heels, moving toward the door. “Mr. Holt ordered breakfast for you, it’s on the balcony when you’re ready.” I part my lips to say something to defend myself, but only a bitter taste fills my mouth. Because the worst thing about all this is that I can’t even say waking up to the maid instead of Micah surprises me. This is what happens when you date a billionaire. Work always comes first. I will always come second. And I guess maybe a part of me believed—hoped—this would not happen, especially this morning. But it did… He left me. The bedroom door clicks shut and I glance up, seeing the maid’s gone. I shove off the duvet, my

skin crawling. I can only imagine some women would love this treatment; new clothes, pampered by the maid, room service. But it’s not what I want. It’s so far from what I want. I want him. And he’s gone. I ignore the pantsuit on the bed and gather my clothes from last night off the floor. My stomach is rolling while I hastily dress. I find my clutch and shawl on the dresser and my shoes by the end of the bed, and I put them on, awkwardly walking toward the door as I do, not looking around to see if any other hotel employees are in the suite. Every step through the living room, and then down the hallway, and even when I enter the elevator, becomes harder to take. I’m repeating my mother ’s mistakes, and that’s something I said I would never do. Dammit, I knew not to let this happen. But Micah had me believing he was someone different. I can only imagine this is how it all begins. First, an empty bed in the morning. Next, personal presents bought by Neil, instead of Micah. My skin slicks with a cold sweat, knowing this isn’t the life I want. I want a man to be there when I wake up in the morning, to hold me, hug me, kiss me. I want him to roll over and make me his, ensuring I think about him all day. I want it to be us first, before everyone steals his attention from me. Anger at myself is making me queasy. How could I let this happen? Stupid, Allie, stupid! Hypersensitive to the loud chatter and people in the lobby, I exit the elevator. The door to the outside seems so far away, while I wrap my arms around myself, hurrying to get there. The bellboy holds the door open for me and then I’m finally outside, gulping the air. “Allie, are you okay?” I glance sideways, finding Levi standing by the Bentley. Unable to fill my lungs completely, I nod. His mouth downturns. “Micah asked me to make sure you got to Holt this morning.” He opens the passenger door. “Please let me drive you home to—” His gaze rakes over me, and I can only imagine my hair is messy and my makeup is running. “Let me take you home first before I deliver you to Holt.” Coldness is not only touching my skin now; it’s flushing through my entire shaking body and my stomach is churning. “I think I’ll grab a cab. Thank you anyway, Levi.” I want absolutely nothing to do with Micah right now is what I leave unsaid between us. Before Levi can stop me, I spin on my heels and jog in the opposite direction, stopping at the curb and hailing a cab. When one squeals to a stop for me, I don’t look back when I get inside. Nor do I look out the window at Levi when the driver speeds off. Instead, I let the tears fall, not caring one bit that the taxi driver watchs me in the rearview mirror.

Micah Allie refused the drive this morning and took a cab instead. A word of warning: she seemed upset. I frown at Levi’s text, shutting my eyes at the warning, drawing myself away from my office and into the silence of my mind. There’s this heavy feeling in my chest that I don’t like. A feeling that I don’t understand. I leave women in the morning. It’s what I do. That’s me. I don’t do sweet relationships. I don’t do love. I give what I can, and what I gave to Allie last night is all that I can offer her. My lungs tighten, strangling the air I’m breathing, when someone clearing their throat draws my attention. “Sorry I’m late,” fellow DC member Darius says, entering my office, a harsh scowl on his unshaven face. “My plane was delayed and I touched down only an hour ago.” “It’s all right. Thank you for coming to see me on the weekend.” I push all emotion aside and move around my glass desk. Richardson still needs to be dealt with, and while my team wants nothing to do with the project, I need to start moving ahead. I greet Darius with a strong handshake and then tap the back of the leather wingback chair. “Please take a seat.” I return behind my desk, taking a quick look at the glass wall on the left side of my office. In the meeting room adjacent to my office, Allie sits with her back to me, alongside Isabella, and more than a dozen employees, for what I assume is their weekly town hall meeting. Allie shifts in her seat while taking notes, hinting that she knows I’m watching her now. I notice her slumped shoulders with disapproval before I glance away, dropping down into my chair. “I called you here—” “What’s this?” The surprise in Darius’s voice has me looking up at him; he’s staring into the meeting room. He finally swings his head toward me, eyes wide. “When did my sister start working for you?” “Your sister?” “Allison Parker. She’s the brunette there.” Darius points to my Allie, who’s now angled in her seat, showing off the side of her face while she’s addressing the group. Ice cuts through my veins, lowering my voice. “Allie is your sister?” “Well, to be more specific, she’s my half-sister,” Darius says with a small smile. “We share the same mother.” I slowly lower to my seat. “She never told me that.” And she should have, then I wouldn’t be in the middle of the most epic fuckup ever. Darius snorts a laugh, taking a seat in front of me. “I’m not surprised that Allison kept that bit of information to herself. She always preferred to stand on her own two feet. The last thing she wants is a handout from me.” He glances at her again through the glass, his eyes softening. “If she didn’t mention it to you, keep this between us. She doesn’t like me interfering in her career. If anything good happens to her here, I don’t want her to feel that I had any part in it.” “Of course,” I reply, shell-shocked. A minute ago, Allie had my head spinning.

Now my mind shatters. I reach for the glass of water next to my keyboard and my heart is thundering in my chest. With two gulps of water, I hastily squash the emotion threatening to break through my poker face, and contemplate quickly how to deal with this. On one hand, I should tell Darius what happened between Allie and me. We’re close friends and we’ve taken an oath of loyalty to each other as members of the Dominants’ Council all those years ago. But thinking of the DC also reminds me that we keep our personal lives out of our obligations, and that’s why I never knew Darius had a half-sister. He never once spoke of her. On the other hand, I owe loyalty to the woman I slept with last night not to tell her half-brother personal details about her life. So, then, who do I betray? Darius interjects before I can decide, “How long has she been working for you?” “Not long.” I place the glass by my keyboard, shutting down personal thoughts until I can figure them out later. “This is actually the reason I called you here today. I bought Richardson last week. I thought you might be interested in giving the company a deeper look before we move ahead to see what we can do to grow it.” “Sounds like a challenge, and you know how I love those finicky projects.” Darius settles into his seat, narrowing his eyes into focus. “I’ll get my team on it. We’ll see if there’s an untapped piece of the market that Richardson could fit into to make it stand out. Perhaps we can find a way to bring something fresh to them.” He waits for my nod of agreement and then asks, “When do you want us to start?” “Right away, if possible.” “I’ll send a team over there on Monday.” “Excellent,” I reply, forcing myself to keep looking at him, and not allow my attention to drift to the other room to where it wants to go. “I have some ideas myself, but I’ll let you do your thing before I add my thoughts.” “I’ll tell the team.” Darius rises from his seat, as do I. “Anything else?” “No.” I follow him, moving around my desk. “I want the bigger picture before making any final decisions on the direction of the company.” Darius nods. “Makes sense.” We don’t need to say much more on the matter. We’ve grown several businesses together, and I know new ideas will be put forth, and we’ll have a solid budget by the time Bennett Inc. leaves Richardson. And right now that’s what I need. A solid plan feels good, since everything else feels a little shaky. I meet Darius at the doorway, and he offers his hand. “I know Allison is in good hands here, but keep an eye on her for me, all right?” My face heats and tingles, my throat grows thick, as I return his handshake. “Of course.” “I’ll be in touch.” Darius turns, giving Allie one last long look. Even from where I stand, I see the deep-rooted love he has for Allie. I’ve never seen Darius look like this before, not in any of the years I’ve known him. I follow his gaze, finding that Allie’s shoulders remain slumped. That’s when I know there’s something worse than sleeping with Darius’s half-sister. I suspect hurting her is unforgiveable in Darius’s eyes.

And I have done both.

Micah An hour later, I enter Allie’s office, finding her assistant scowling at me from behind her desk. I give Liv my grin that usually charms women right out of their panties. She folds her arms over her chest, her gaze flicking upward, clearly not won over. I can only take that to mean that Allie has told Liv about me and our night together. Seeing that I’m getting nowhere with Liv, I focus on Allie, sitting behind her desk. Even though she’s not looking at me, I can see that Liv’s scowl is nothing compared to what I find on Allie’s face. Her nostrils are flaring and her lips are flat, and her hands are trembling against the papers on her desk. This is the blessing that I need. I can see she’s already decided she wants nothing to do with me. For her this is over, meaning I can carefully cut ties with her and clean the matter up nice and neatly. Content to let this all unfold, I turn to Liv, ignoring the daggers her gaze is throwing at me. Professionally, I would fire an employee for this type of insubordination. Personally, I realize Liv and Allie are close friends, and I respect Liv’s protectiveness of Allie. “Would you mind giving us a minute?” I ask Liv. Her eyes turn cold, hard, and flinty while she stares me down, then she glances sideways at Allie. Allie doesn’t look up from reading the papers on her desk. “It’s fine. Please shut the door behind you.” Liv rises from her desk, silently flipping me off with her high chin as she leaves the office. The second the door shuts, Allie asks, voice tight, “What can I do for you?” I nearly breathe a sigh of relief at the detachment deepening her tone. I can deal with this particular coldness. I see it all the time on the faces of businessmen, and I’m well aware how to use it to my advantage to get what I want. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I move toward her desk, deciding it best not to take a seat, and remain standing. “Leaving this morning was a mistake,” I tell her, which is an absolute first for me. I never apologize for leaving a woman in the morning. Nor do I make excuses for my behavior. In fact, if Allie weren’t Darius’s half-sister, this conversation would go very differently. I would use my best negotiation tactics to ensure that Allie was okay with my leaving and accepted the way I like to do things. But Allie is no ordinary woman, she is Darius’s half-sister. I’m careful that when we part she walks away from me on good terms. I will have to tell Darius about being with Allie, but first I need her to believe she’s simply leaving me because we’re not right for each other. No hard feelings, that’s what I need here. The air is thick—tense—and she’s still not looking at me when I continue. “I see that I upset you and that wasn’t my intention.” She snorts, shaking her head softly. “Oh, I know it wasn’t.”

My back stiffens, but it’s not because I’m hearing a snarky tone in her voice; it’s because it sounds forced. I narrow my focus on her intently, becoming aware of only her. My throat constricts, muscles strain at the dark circles under her eyes and how she’s suddenly stroking her eyebrow. “I regret having hurt you,” I offer. “I’m not hurt.” She’s still not looking at me, and my fists are now clenching in my pockets. I want to move to her and grasp her chin, commanding her to show me those soulful eyes that tell me so much. But she’s hiding them from me. “Everything is A-OK,” she finishes. I’m trying to keep to the plan of allowing her to walk away from me on her terms, but my head is spinning at the way she’s acting and her flat, monotone voice. I can’t remember all the reasons I need to stay away from her. All I want to do is bring her close and make her feel safe enough not to hide from me. “Allie, look at me.” “Listen, there’s nothing more to say here.” Her shoulders are curving as she rises from her seat. “I know this is normal for you. You know, letting the maid clean up after you and such. And I’m sure the girls you’re used to dating don’t mind that, but I happen to.” She pushes her chair under her desk, still avoiding me. “Don’t worry. I get it. That’s the type of guy you are, so that’s what you do.” She’s right. I am that guy. Only this time, with her, it feels wrong to be that guy. “Allie.” I’m not even sure what I want to say next. She goes to walk by me, staring straight ahead at the closed door. The ground is dropping out from under me. I’m shaking and not even thinking, only acting, as I reach for her, stopping her from leaving. “Dammit, Allie. Look at me.” Then her eyes meet mine, and I’m being hit in the center of my chest by a freight train. My breath is gone, my stomach is sinking, and I cannot let go of her. I don’t want to. In the same way her smile once blasted warmth across me, her sadness slams me with equally intense ice. Her eyes, those gorgeous eyes, are wet and dull. I caused that. Her chin is trembling. I did that. She’s hurting. All because of me. “Christ,” I bite off. “What can I say to make you feel better?” “You don’t need to say anything.” She yanks herself away from me, her chest hitching. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me. You have nothing to feel bad about. I was expecting you to be different, and that’s wrong of me. Honestly, this is all fine. But I can’t do this with you.” She moves to the door, whisking it open. “We gave it a shot, but clearly we’re two very different people.” The plan was to let her leave me. That plan makes sense for all involved. It is the smartest choice. It’s my way out. I plant my feet wide on the floor, as the room spins slightly, and before I can help it, I call, “Do you not remember what happened between us last night?” “No.” She glances over her shoulder, her desolate eyes meeting mine. A painful tightness grabs hold of my throat when she adds, “I only remember what happened this morning.”

Chapter 10

Allie Shortly before seven at night, I enter The Vault, exhausted to my bones. Micah still weighs heavy on my mind, but I’m too damn tired to even begin to figure it all out and I have something else to deal with now. I step farther into the restaurant, past the greeter. “It’s okay,” I tell her, as her lips part to welcome me. “I’m meeting someone who’s already here.” “Enjoy your dinner.” She smiles. “Thanks.” I run my fingers through my hair, damp from the rain, moving past the round tables draped with white linens. I don’t love the reminder that the last time I’d been here was with Micah. Like I need more reminders of him. Near the back of the restaurant, not far from the table where I’d met with the Lowes, I find Darius. His almond-shaped eyes meet mine, and for a split second they warm with his slight smile. It’s a tender, totally unguarded smile that he reserves for only two people: Taylor and me. Yet as he rises, I notice the tenseness of his movement. I can’t really blame Darius for having a hard exterior. I had what he didn’t—our mother. When mom left her first husband, taking Darius with her, her ex-husband hired a dream team of lawyers to charge her as an abusive mother. They said she’d abducted Darius, but of course she hadn’t. Regardless of the truth, the evidence was stacked against her—witnesses, and lies; everything had been paid for with his millions, and he won custody of their son. But her ex-husband didn’t win because he loved Darius. He won to punish our mother by keeping them apart. That’s the type of guy Darius had grown up with. Then, to make matters worse, when Darius’s father heard of his plans to raise me after my parents passed away, his father gave Darius a choice: me or his inheritance. Darius, for reasons totally unknown, picked me. Nothing in his life had been easy. So his distance and coldness masked a sweet guy who’d done so much for me. Sometimes I think his hard shell is a layer of protection, because if he ever let himself feel, it would overcome him. “Allison,” he says, standing until I lower to my seat, then he takes his. “I ordered your favorite.” I tuck my chair closer to the table, noting that he’s perfectly put together, as always. Sharp, tailored gray suit, stylish brown hair, some stubble on his face; my brother looks more like an American athlete than a billionaire. I see a lot of my mom in his eyes; they share the same warm chocolate brown color. “No wonder you’re single,” I reply to his statement, reaching for the glass of white wine in front of me on the table. “Don’t you know women hate when you order for them?” Darius arches a brow at the dig, yet ignores me. “How was your day?” “Long and exhausting.” I take a big gulp of my wine, delighting in the woodsy hints. “But nothing that a few glasses of wine can’t fix.” My brother is sitting unusually still when I lower the glass to the table. I blink once…twice… Then he addresses me. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

“Not particularly.” I fold my arms against the white linen, hearing the soft conversations going on around me. “But I’m guessing you’re going to tell me what I should be telling you and why we’re meeting tonight instead of tomorrow.” After I left home, Darius made it a rule for us to have Sunday dinners together. I’m not sure if his motive is to check in on me or if he likes spending time with me, but he’s the only family I’ve got, and I like being around him, so the rest is semantics. He finally shakes his head in frustration. “I heard Holt has purchased Richardson.” “Oh, that.” I play with the stem of my wineglass and half shrug. “Well, it’s not breaking news or anything that I’ve moved over to Holt. How did you find out?” “I was there today for business and saw you in a meeting room.” I stiffen in my seat, worrying that maybe Darius told Micah that I’m his half-sister. Darius knows I like to keep our connection quiet, especially in the professional world, so I don’t need to remind him of that, I’m sure. “Oh, yeah, how did your business go?” “It went fine,” Darius replies. I watch him a moment, wondering now if maybe this dinner is happening because Micah told him about us. The thought infuriates me. But as Darius says, “Holt’s the perfect place for you,” I realize not only did Darius not tell Micah about our association, but Micah must not have mentioned our affair either. A part of me knows that I should’ve told Micah that I’m Darius’s half-sister, considering they do business together. The other part thinks telling Darius about Micah is none of his business. The only time I can ever recall Darius discussing my love life with me was when I dated a boy in high school for a few years. You need to be safe, Allison. Do you want me to go to the doctor with you? Not a conversation you want to have with your older brother. As a seventeen-year-old girl, I replied to my twenty-seven-year-old brother, Ew! God, no! I have Taylor and her mom for that stuff. Gross, Darius. And that was our birds and bees talk, which never happened again after that day. Thankfully, I still had my mom to buy my first bra, teach me how to shave my legs, and discuss choosing feminine products. I can only imagine how that would’ve gone for Darius. Not that I blame him; he was only a young man when he took me in, after all. Besides, the way I see it, unless Micah and I were serious, there’s no need for Darius to know. And we are the direct opposite of serious, so yeah, totally none of Darius’s business. I take another sip of my wine as Darius adds, “You’ll do well at Holt and benefit from the advantages of working for a large company. I understand there’s lots of opportunity to move up the corporate ladder.” I glance down, avoiding him to hide my disappointment. I can always count on Darius to look at my life in the business sense. That’s what I miss most about having my mother. Those special talks. Darius, though, lived and breathed business growing up. Hell, he tried his best to remove me from public school to send me to some fancy, all-girls private boarding school, which I adamantly refused. At the time, I thought he wanted to get rid of me. Now I think it’s because that’s how he grew up and he didn’t know any different. Luckily, when I refused, he backed down. Emotions back under control, I lift my head and talk his language. “It’s an impressive company, for sure.” The CEO is even more impressive, as well as complicated and infuriating, considering I shouldn’t be thinking about him, but somehow can’t stop. Darius nods in agreement and taps his fingers against the table. “You’ll do well under Micah’s guidance.”

I burst out laughing. I’d done very well under Micah’s guidance. Darius frowns, and I quickly wave him off, shaking my head. “Forget it. It’s nothing. And yes, Holt’s a step up for me. It’s exciting.” The waitress comes over to the table then, and I notice Darius had ordered me steak. My brother might not emotionally be there for me, but he takes care of me in his own way. Steak is my favorite, and he knows that. When the waitress leaves the table after placing our dinners in front of us, I pick up my fork and knife as Darius asks, “How are your finances?” I cut the meat and sigh, looking at him. “That’s a weird question. You know this, right?” Darius places his napkin on his lap before he arches a brow at me. “It’s a valid question, given that I’m your guardian, of sorts. I want to be sure you’re doing okay.” That’s the problem. My okay and Darius’s are worlds apart. I’m happy with two hundred dollars in my back account. In Darius’s world, I’m barely scraping by on pocket change. “My finances are fine. You don’t need to worry.” And in my world, we don’t care about these things and ask personal questions like that. But in Darius’s world, money and smart business are his biggest thoughts of the day. He sticks his fork into the stir-fry he ordered and gives me a level look. “I found out today that you still haven’t touched any of the money I gave you.” I chew my steak, buying myself some time to answer him, since I know I won’t ever touch the bank account he set up for me. The money is tainted, as far as I’m concerned, reminding me of the past and a life that I never asked for or wanted. But I can’t hurt Darius by telling him that. He’s doing what he thinks is right by me, because that’s all he knows. I swallow and narrow my eyes on him. “How do you know I haven’t spent any of the money?” “Because my accountant told me.” He lowers his fork to his plate, and his eyes soften. “Allison”— Darius is the only one who doesn’t call me by my nickname and I’ve always wondered if that’s some messed-up way to keep me at a distance—“you don’t need to do this all on your own. Your mother would have wanted you to live a good life. Let me help take care of you.” God, my stomach rolls at how he says your mother. It’s damn sad he doesn’t call her our mother, which is what she would have wanted. “I live a fantastic life on the salary I make,” I correct him. Darius snorts. “You could live a much better life.” One lesson I learned very early on from my mother was that money doesn’t make you happy; it’s the priceless things that create lasting memories. “Mom would’ve wanted you to be happy, too,” I fire back. Darius freezes halfway from placing a piece of broccoli into his mouth and slowly lowers his fork to his plate. “Who says I’m not happy?” I raise my eyebrows in answer. He looks down at his plate, and a few seconds pass before he finally answers me. “I don’t need to discuss my life with my little sister.” “I don’t need to discuss my life with my older brother.” When his hard eyes lift to mine, I smile to ease the tension. “Regardless of how wonderful he is and how grateful I am for all he’s done for me.” Darius finishes off his broccoli and sighs heavily. “Smart-ass—although, I’ve got to hand it to you, you can insult me and make me feel good about it all at the same time.”

I reach for his hand across the table, giving his fingers a squeeze, hoping he’ll realize I really do care about him. PDA always makes him squirm. But again, it’s all understandable. He wasn’t raised in a loving household; instead, love was bought with money, which makes me sad and wish things could have been different for him. When he moves his hand away, I ignore the pang in my chest. “What can I say? I learned from the best how to stay on my toes.” He tips his wineglass to me. “Don’t forget it either.” Even his slight grin can’t hide the truth. My older brother appears to be the type of man that has it all, and yet has nothing that matters. He was deeply in love with Taylor, but he ended things with her, for reasons both Taylor and I don’t really know. Though I have my suspicions. Business came before her, because Darius had to fight his way back after his father cut him off. Then, when Darius began tasting his wealth, money became his only focus. Now that he’d made his billions, he didn’t know any other way to live anymore. “Don’t you worry,” I reply to his statement. “I won’t forget.” Because if I’m not on my toes around Darius and Micah, and if I ever do forget that I wasn’t raised in a world where love didn’t come first, then I will lose the only thing left of my mother…my memories of her.

Micah Rain pours from the skies, soaking my gray T-shirt and dark blue jeans, as I watch the taillights of the Bentley slowly fade into the night. The aroma of cooked meat fills the air from the vendor on the street corner near Pier 39. It’s an exceptionally dark night, while young people fill the streets, heading into the clubs and pubs, enjoying their weekend. That’s my plan as well as I turn to the building behind me, spotting the O’Keefe’s burgundy sign decorated with a gold Celtic knot. I enter the pub, and the roar of noise is a quick indicator of how packed this place is already. The heavy wooden door shuts behind me, and the design of the pub looks better suited for a small town in Ireland than downtown San Francisco. But I have always thought that’s part of the pub’s charm. Looking through the crowd, I find Gabe working behind the bar, flipping bottles high in the air, putting on the show he’s known for. My muscles begin to relax and finally the tension in my shoulders loosens. I need a little familiarity right now. And O’Keefe’s means kicking back with good food, great beer, and live music. I move toward the bar, hearing the Irish folk music coming from the band in the back, which is right when Gabe sees me. He gestures with a tilt of his head toward the end of the bar, where there’s an empty seat. I adjust the tip of my baseball cap a little lower on my face, hoping no one recognizes me as I make my way through the crowd. Once there, I drop down onto the wooden stool, watching Gabe move to me with a beer in his hand. His hazel eyes rake over me as he slides the beer my way. “You look like shit,” he quips. “Never one to hold back your thoughts, are you, Gabe?” I take a sip of the crisp beer, attempting to reconcile my mood with myself, and in fact, feeling like complete shit. Allie hadn’t been the first woman to look at me like I’d torn the fabric of her soul apart. The difference being: my reaction to that look. My stomach knotted, a dullness forming in my chest the second she left me today, and those sensations remain now and had even grown worse. I’m not used to the longing I feel for her. Nor am I used to second-guessing myself. The sadness in her eyes is haunting me. And tonight I came to Gabe’s pub so I wouldn’t go to her house. I lower the bottle from my mouth, enjoying the bite of the cold hops aftertaste. “It’s been a rough day.” “Yeah, I see that.” Gabe grabs a rag out of his back pocket and begins wiping away the spills on the wooden bar in front of me. “But luckily for you, bartenders are the best therapists.” I snort. “You’re not a bartender. You’re the CEO.” “Semantics!” Gabe smiles, tucking the rag back into his pocket. I doubt most customers in this bar realize that Gabe’s not a struggling bartender, but is a Harvardeducated multimillionaire. Yet he suits his bar, standing proud of his Irish roots. “Important semantics, however,” I remind him. “Maybe.” Gabe shrugs, resting his arms against the edge of the bar, leaning closer to me. “What’s up?”

There’s no one in the world I trust more than Gabe, not even Levi, and that’s saying something, since I trust Levi with my life. Even so, I’m hesitant in how much I tell him. “I’ve met someone.” Gabe’s eyes widen, a rise in his vocal pitch. “A chick has you looking like this?” “She’s become a complication,” I admit. I’m expecting his question when he leans in even closer to keep the conversation private. “A DC complication?” Is this my problem, too? is what’s unsaid between us. For men who belong to the Dominants’ Council, the question is a valid one. “No.” I shake my head. “She’s my complication.” I’ll keep Allie being Darius’s half-sister to myself for now. I don’t need Gabe chastising me over this. But I admit to him, “I’m wanting something that I shouldn’t have.” “Ah, now, that I understand.” Gabe’s eyes dance as he leans away, putting space between us. “I’ve got one of those forbidden treasures myself.” He turns his head, glancing at the woman behind the bar with him, wearing a dark pair of skinny jeans and a tight black T-shirt with O’Keefe’s written in gold across her chest. “Kenna,” he calls, waving her over to us. She delivers a beer to her customer, then settles in next to Gabe. “Whatcha need, boss?” “Micah Holt, this is McKenna Archer,” Gabe introduces. “She’s been working for me now for…” “A month or so,” Kenna offers. “Ah, yes.” Gabe grins. “And what a month it’s been.” I see what draws Gabe to McKenna. He likes his women blond, shorter than him, and curvy, and McKenna has all those traits. Plus her eyes are intoxicating, a mix between green and amber, holding strength and sass. “Nice to meet you,” I say to her. She smiles. “You, too.” Gabe leans against the side of the bar, grinning boldly at her. “I’ve been asking Kenna out on a date for a couple weeks now and she keeps breaking my heart by refusing.” “Aw, poor baby.” McKenna grabs a beer out of the fridge below the bar and cracks it open. “Don’t worry, I’m sure there’s a hundred women ready to bandage you all back together.” Gabe’s eyes shine as he presses a hand to his heart. “See how she wounds me?” McKenna shakes her head, laughing, and strides away. “Like I said,” Gabe says, turning to me, “a forbidden treasure.” “What do you want from her?” I ask, watching McKenna deliver the beer to a customer. “I’d like to string her up and fuck her mercilessly.” Gabe hesitates, then groans when McKenna bends down to grab another beer out of the fridge, giving a perfect view of her round ass. He finally looks at me again with a frown. “Anything more than that would create problems.” I take a sip of my beer, realizing my mistake. Allie had been a forbidden treasure, and I knew that the day I met her. Our worlds cannot possibly mix. Hers is so innocent, so pure, so untainted. Mine is something else entirely. I’d felt the unusual draw to her, the intense pull to have her, and that should’ve been my warning to stay away. Now there’s no turning back. I had a taste of something I hadn’t had before—a woman who touches my basic instincts, as well as stirs emotion inside of me, especially the desire to claim. I keep expecting my dark needs to swell inside and overwhelm me, needing an outlet to be released, but the beast is still quiet and calm, and I believe that has to do with Allie and the warmth and kindness she offers me.

She’s giving me something different, and I want to keep it…keep her. I sigh heavily and give Gabe the reply he’s waiting for: “That’s some great advice, if only I’d heard it days ago.” The damage has already been done. I can’tt forget her. Nor can I ignore that I want to be in bed with Allie right now. Gabe is watching me closely, cocking his head. “This complication, it’s that bad?” “Worse than you could imagine.” “What are you going to do?” Leave her alone, is what I should do. It’s what I must do. She’s Darius’s little sister, for fuck’s sake. He’ll have my head on a stake the second he hears about this. Why? Because I’m not the man he’ll want for Allie. I’m not the man she deserves. She deserves a man who works nine to five and wants to have kids with her, taking them to their team sports in a goddamn minivan. I’m not that guy. I’m the guy who wants my woman beneath me, while she’s bound in my ropes. “That I don’t know yet,” I finally admit to Gabe and myself. Gabe’s eyes widen, as does his grin. “Well, that’s a first.” I nod, it being the only answer I need to give. I always have a plan. Women don’t get to me. I don’t let them, and Gabe knows this, too. But Allie’s getting right under my skin. I can feel her there, all that warmth and light weaving within me and tugging me to make this right with her. For years, I have kept absolute control over my life. I chose Juliet to fulfill the needs that most women cannot. I don’t date women who consent to kinky sex. It confuses things for me. I have rules in place to keep a firm grip on my life. I set boundaries to keep everything in line. I don’t do emotional relationships. Yet I feel myself slipping. I’m wanting things I shouldn’t want. And I’m wanting them with a woman I shouldn’t want.

Chapter 11

Allie “You can’t avoid him forever,” Taylor says softly, staring at me through my Mac computer the next morning. “He’s going to want to talk to you again.” Sitting behind my rustic whitewashed desk in my home office, I agree. “Oh, I know.” The light purple walls surrounding me should soothe me and improve my mood, as should the wall of bookshelves with all my favorite reads. Even the sun shining through the wall of windows should make me smile. I couldn’t ask for a better Sunday, but without booze, there’s no changing my mood today. “At least I have all day today to figure out how to talk to him without nearly breaking into tears.” Yesterday, after work, I told Taylor every single detail of what had happened with Micah. Yet for some reason, we’re still talking about him the next day. And I know why that is. I like this guy. A lot. And that really sucks, since it can’t work between us. “God, you should have seen me. I almost broke down right in front of him.” “Well, he hurt your feelings, so it’s totally understandable,” Taylor says with a soft voice. “Besides, your gentle heart is why I love you so much. Don’t ever change, especially for some guy who doesn’t deserve a single one of your tears. You can’t help how you feel.” I push my chair back and prop my feet up on the edge of my desk. “Yeah, I know, and that’s the problem.” “Why?” Big bouncy curls frame Taylor ’s face today, and her eyes are shiny and bright. “Because you like him?” “I like the guy who isn’t leaving me in the morning.” I sigh, rubbing my temple, fighting off the looming headache. “Hell, I even like the guy he showed me when I was about to walk out the door, yesterday in my office. But the thing is, I don’t see that guy all the time.” I pause, collecting my thoughts before I start rambling. “The only person who can take care of me is me, and allowing anyone into my life who can’t understand that a woman would want him there in the morning seems… well, stupid, to put it simply.” Taylor frowns. “Yeah, I hear you, but sometimes you can’t help falling for someone you shouldn’t. It just happens and there’s nothing you can do about it, no matter if it’s the right or wrong thing to do.” She’s talking about herself, I know that, and I hate that my issues are reminding her of her problems with Shawn. I scrape my hand across my eyes, suddenly feeling tired. “I don’t even know why I allowed this to happen in the first place. You know me, and you know how much I dislike this type of guy. I guess a part of me thought he wasn’t that guy or that he’d change for me or…Hell, I don’t know what I was thinking.” I pause, trying to figure it all out in my mind. “But even if Micah hadn’t left me like he did, I still want a normal life. I want morning coffee together, date nights, and meals around the dinner table. The real romantic stuff.” Taylor gives me an empty, distant stare. Of course she understands, because she’s gone through that with Darius, and she went through that confusing time with me when I got a little lost before I started working at Richardson.

I couldn’t stand the way people looked at me when they would attend Darius’s fancy dinner parties at the house, which had nothing to do with a party and everything to do with business. It was so pretentious, even many of Darius’s business partners’ daughters wanted to befriend me, but it wasn’t because they really liked me. They saw my status in high society and what my friendship could do for them. I never wanted to be a socialite. I wanted people to like me for me. Taylor sighs, breaking me away from my thoughts. “So, it’s complicated?” “Very,” I agree. Because I don’t get why this guy is bugging me so much. Heck, my last boyfriend, who I dated casually for a month, didn’t affect me like this. When I broke up with Jon, I was over it by the next day, because it was my choice to end the relationship. I liked Jon and we’re still friendly if I see him, but the spark wasn’t there and I had to stop pretending that it was. I chose to end things with Micah too, so why is he still on my mind? And yet I know the answer. I like this guy. Really, truly like him. We stay silent a moment. Two best friends, who are hours apart, yet somehow she’s making me feel better because I can see and talk to her. I finally break the silence. “God, this is so depressing.” “Maybe depressing is a good thing, though,” Taylor says with a soft smile. “Maybe it means that things aren’t over like you think they are. Maybe it’s that Micah needs to do something to deserve you. And maybe it’s about damn time you met someone who you can’t walk away from so easily.” She pauses then half shrugs. “I sincerely doubt that Micah’s dated a lot of women who expect more out of him. You’re kinda one of a kind because of your past. So, maybe, all you need to do is give him the chance to catch up with you. Who knows, maybe he’s looking for a little real himself.” Now it’s my turn to shrug and say, “Maybe,” for the thousandth time in the last few seconds. Because now I’m beginning to wonder if I’m being too hard on Micah. He tried to apologize. Why didn’t I let him? Taylor adds, “Listen, I know he scares you. I know this is one of the most intense relationships you’ve ever had. But you’re either in this all the way, or you’re not. You can’t keep waiting for him to drop the ball on you and turn out to be the biggest asshole of all time.” I sigh, my face warming. “I guess you’re—” My cellphone ringing on my desk breaks my eye contact with her. One look at the screen tells me I have to go. “Babe, I gotta take that, it’s Liv.” I yank my feet off the edge of the desk. “I’ll call you later, okay?” Taylor blows me a kiss. “X and O.” “Back atcha.” I end FaceTime, grab my cell, and press the Talk button. “Hi, Liv.” “Yes, it’s Sunday and I shouldn’t be calling,” she says, voice chipper. “But you’ll be happy about this call. Promise.” She pauses. “Well, you’ll be happy about the first part anyway.” I don’t pretend to know what she’s talking about, but I do know something. “You’re right, you shouldn’t be calling because you shouldn’t be working.” “Please.” Liv snorts. “Like you’re not totally sitting behind your computer right now trying to find the Lowes a house.” “Okay, you win. Point for you.” I laugh softly, pulling one leg underneath me, staring off at the high-rise next to my condo. “What’s up?”

“Kevin called me because he couldn’t get ahold of you.” “Shit! He called me?” I never heard the phone ringing this morning, but I also hadn’t checked to see if anyone had called either after I got out of the shower. God, I gotta get my head back in the game. “What did he say?” “His clients have agreed to let the Lowes see their house.” “That’s fabulous news!” I exclaim, bouncing in my seat. Mainly because it means I won’t have to spend hours today looking at MLS listings and I can curl up with a good book, reading the afternoon away. “I know, right? Awesome stuff.” I can hear the smile in Liv’s voice when she adds, “So, I’ve been chatting with the Lowes over email this morning and I’ve scheduled you to meet them at Kevin’s house on Monday morning at nine. Okay?” “You’re the best.” I glance away from the high-rise to Union Square, seeing all the people looking like blurry ants. This deal needs to work out and I’m crossing my fingers that it does. I grab my mouse and hit the Send & Receive button, then I delete the couple of spam messages in my inbox. “So, if we’re looking at the house on Monday, I’m wondering if you should—” “Already on it,” Liv quips, and I can hear her fingers typing on the keyboard. “I’m sending all the information on the property to your email right…now.” The pride at being such a badass assistant echoes off her sassy tone, as her email is delivered to my in-box. “Okay, so for the second thing…” She hesitates, drawing in a long breath before getting very serious. “Micah stormed into our office a couple minutes ago. I think he thought you were here or something, because he looked so disappointed when he saw me. I told him you never work on Sundays, and that I only dropped in quick to get the details on the property for you. After that…well, let’s just say it didn’t go over well. He looks horrible.” “What do you mean, horrible?” “Like someone gave him the cutest puppy ever.” Liv pauses, for dramatic effect, I’m sure. “And then went serial ax murderer on it. Seriously, he looks like he didn’t sleep at all last night.” “Weird.” “Mmm-hmm,” she adds, then her voice lifts. “Remember when I said you must have the secret to snag a billionaire?” “Yes, I recall such a statement,” I muse. “Well, apparently, it’s not a secret, it’s a drug, because that guy is jonesing for you.” I’m wondering how I can hate to hear something and love it at the same time, when she continues. “But I thought I would warn you, because it kinda seemed like he planned—” A loud knock bangs on my front door. “To come to my house?” I finish for her. “Glad to know my instincts are still sharp,” Liv mutters, dryly. “Good luck.” “It’s not luck I need,” I tell her, dead serious, hearing another loud knock. “It’s willpower.”

Micah I raise my hand to knock again when Allie’s door suddenly flies open. Regardless of my mood, my mouth twitches. She looks cute this morning. Her hair is resting on top of her head in a loose bun, and she’s wearing black yoga pants and a tight soft pink T-shirt, detailing the tempting curves of her breasts. She looks fresh, natural. Blood rushes to my cock, throbbing to be inside of her, making everything inside of me okay. I slowly glance up her body to look at her face again, finding her glare. That I can handle. I feel better being with her when she’s angry than not being near her at all. She crosses her arms, not allowing me inside. “Care to tell me how you got into my building?” I suspect she’s considering all the ways I had gotten past her security guard without notifying her; bribery being the biggest contender, I’m sure. “I own the building,” I offer. “Of course you do,” she grumbles, suddenly beginning to examine me from head to toe, taking in my black Holt T-shirt, black baseball cap, and workout pants. While I see the quick flare of heat in her eyes as she lingers a little too long over me, it’s when she looks into my face that her hard exterior softens slightly. “Are you okay?” “No.” Lack of sleep and a hangover being the cause. Which is still a surprise to me. I’m a drinker, but I never get drunk. Anything that steals my control is weakness in my eyes. Last night marks the first night I’ve been drunk since Harvard, and the last thing I remember is Levi depositing me into the backseat of the Bentley. We stay in a staring contest, while she’s still not moving away from the door. I finally sigh. “Can we talk?” Her eyes narrow a little, but she slowly opens the door and lets me inside. I enter through the threshold, surprise rushing across me. She doesn’t live like a woman who has the money I suspect she does in her bank account. Simple, yet tasteful; her condo is a lot like the woman herself. I remove my shoes at the door, as she’s walking toward her open concept living room. My sockcovered feet slide on her hardwood floors, when I follow her in and take a seat next to her on her couch. Her leg brushes against mine, and I see the way she stiffens and understand why. The same jolt of energy passes through me, too. This thing between us it’s infectious. I can’t deny it either. Fuck, if I could, I wouldn’t be here. All I know is I can’t survive another day like yesterday. Something’s gotta give. I clench my fists, digging my fingers into my palms, trying to ignore the urge to bring her closer to me. It’s not so much a want as it is a need. She’s too far away from me right now. My mind is spinning, as I’m fighting to find the right words to say to her. She wants me to be this different guy. One I don’t know. But I want to be him for her, too. The one who knows how to do relationships. I know how to fulfill desires. I know how to handle a woman’s body. But I don’t know how to deal

delicately with a woman’s heart. “I shouldn’t be here,” is what finally comes out of my mouth. “You shouldn’t be here?” she asks, incredulous. “That’s the first thing you say to me? Oh, my God, Micah. You’re seriously unbelievable.” She rises to her feet, arms flailing in the air. “I mean, you want me, you get me, you have me, then you leave me, but regret it later. Now you want to talk to me, but you shouldn’t be here.” She folds her arms, glaring. “Do I have that right?” I nod. She snorts and shakes her head in clear disbelief. “To be honest, Micah, this has all gotten a bit too complicated for me. I told you yesterday that it wasn’t going to work, and clearly it’s not.” She turns to move toward the door. “I think it’s best if you go—” “Stop.” I’m not sure what she hears in my voice that makes her freeze on the spot. I’m not even sure what I’m feeling, but the tension in my chest is squeezing my lungs and I can hardly breathe. She’s not looking at me, just staring at the door. She’s not even moving. But all I can manage is “Please. Stop.” She turns then, eyebrows drawn together. I bow my head, unable to look at her, not wanting to show her weakness. Whenever she stares at me so intently, she bares me. She strips every layer, every shield, and I’m not even thinking of what I should or shouldn’t do. I only know that today I needed to come here. And now that I’m here, I can’t leave. She finally gives a long-suffering sigh and approaches, stopping in front of me. “What do you want, Micah?” Her soft pink-painted toes fill my vision. But I don’t need to see her. I feel her. I’ve felt her from the second I met her. The light of her warms the chill out of me. “You.” “Why?” I want to stay silent. I know I can’t. Not anymore. “It’s like you have this secret that I don’t know yet. That somehow if I spend a little more time with you, I’m going to be let in on it.” I lift my head and stare into her eyes, watching her hair gently fall off her shoulders to curtain her face. “Every time I shut my eyes, you’re there. Every time I try not to think about you, you’re all I can think about. You’re haunting me. Every minute, every second, there’s nowhere to hide.” I see a crack in her hard stare, the warmth I crave slowly showing through. “Then why shouldn’t you be here?” I’m desperate to reach out and touch her. Instead, I clench my fists on my legs. “Because you deserve better than me. Because—” “If you think that, then why are you here?” “I can’t stay away.” I could give her a dozen answers that I assume will appease her. But I want to give her the one answer that she deserves. She wants real, and in this conversation, I can give her that. I know I need to give her that. “I already told you, it’s like you have this secret that I need to find out. A secret that has sunk its claws into me and refuses to let go.” I’m not thinking consequences when I rise from the couch and stand in front of her. It’s like I’m pulled by my words, compelled to move like a magnet to the one thing it needs. “A secret that has crashed the world I control. A secret that has somehow slipped the firm hand I live by. A secret that has all but destroyed every barrier I’ve ever put in place.” I take a step toward her, closing in and inhaling her sweet, flowery scent. She surprisingly stays put

when I cup her face in my hands. “I feel…” I pause, trying to put everything I’ve felt this past day into words. “I feel better when I’m with you and unwound when I’m not.” I squeeze my hands around her face, hoping to protect this embodiment of perfection under my hands. “I’ve never needed anyone in my life, Allie. But I need you.” She eventually blinks. “But I need more of you, Micah; this can’t work if you don’t give me more.” I hear the waver in her voice, the uncertainty of her words, and step forward, closing my body against hers. “Tell me what you need from me and I’ll give it to you.” She pauses, looking past all my defenses. Then, “I want you to be there in the morning.” “Then I will be.” I stroke her cheeks with my thumbs, controlling the adrenaline pulsating through my veins, spiking my heart rate. “And if I can’t be, you’ll know it beforehand.” Her eyes widen in surprise, telling me that she knows changing anything about myself is something I would never do, not for anyone. “Really? Just like that, you’ll do this for me?” “I can’t allow you to run from me again.” Whatever she asked of me now, I’d likely give her. “If this keeps you from running, then yes, I can do it for you.” I drag a thumb across her bottom lip, watching my skin slide against hers before looking into her eyes again. “I need you in my life, Allie, and I can no longer pretend that I don’t.” I’m lost staring at her, touching her, relishing in the silence of my mind. My chest no longer constricts and my muscles loosen. It makes all the reasons I shouldn’t be with her leave my mind for this moment. They won’t vanish. I will deal with them, including Darius. But right now I’m not thinking about what could break us apart, I’m only thinking about her. I lower my head to hers. “Now kiss me,” I demand. And she does. Deeply.

Allie Micah’s cellphone ringing breaks a kiss like no other. This kiss we shared matters. It means something. It’s an apology, and it’s his way of accepting my forgiveness. I hear his harsh curse before my eyes open, and I’m staring into his gorgeous smoky grays, just below his black baseball cap. A certain peace washes over me, stealing away the tension I hadn’t known had been there. I feel better when I’m with you and unwound when I’m not, he had said. I guess I feel like that, too. His strong body is still so close to me, that warm and woodsy scent spiraling around me, and as I gaze upon this passionate and intense man, seeing the possessive way he’s watching me, I know three things for sure: I don’t regret letting Micah into my condo, allowing him to explain, or letting him kiss me. Because Micah didn’t feed me bullshit; I saw this in the way he tensed up when he told me how he feels. The slight clench of his jaw when he admitted he would give me anything to ensure that I didn’t push him away. I’m shivering with the heat I feel coming off him, as he drags his thumb across my damp mouth. I see how much he wants me. I want him, too. But the better part of my judgment reminds me to remain careful with him. He can hurt me. We need to take this slow. A blast of cold air washes over me as he steps back and frowns, reaching into his pocket. He looks at the screen before glancing at me. “I’m sorry. I need to take this.” Eyes on me, he places his phone to his ear. “Holt.” A pause. “Yes.” Another pause and then a sigh. “Go on.” I mirror his frustrated sigh when he moves into my kitchen, talking business. All the same, I realize the break is necessary, and with the distance, I begin to think again. I don’t have everything figured out when it comes to Micah. My heart doesn’t feel entirely safe with him, but it wants to. Again, baby steps, I remind myself. I watch him as he’s staring out my kitchen window. He appears so strong standing there, looking out into the city he conquered, but I see now that his shields are an illusion. I know that because of when he said, Please. Stop. He couldn’t hide his wounds then and they are raw, bleeding still. Micah’s an enigma and one with a dark past. And whatever it involves, I think together we can try to heal his demons. I’m not going into this relationship blind, but I’m not going into it closed off either. A loud beep snaps me to consciousness, and I still see him standing by the window. I hurry into my office, grab my cellphone off the desk, seeing an email from Holt. Reminded of Liv’s email earlier, I set to printing off the details about Kevin’s house before returning to the living room. Micah is leaning against my kitchen island, eyes on me when I enter the room. I smile at how he’s watching my every move. God, it’s incredible to be the focus of his intensity. My knees loosen, feeling a little weak before I drop down onto my oversized beige chair in the corner of my living room and drape both legs over the side. I begin reading the document and memorize every single detail that I’ll need to tell the Lowes tomorrow. When I reach all of the recent upgrades, a note is thrust in front of me.

Take off your pants. I jerk my head up and mouth, “What?” to Micah. He winks, pointing to the note as his reply. He’s serious. That I don’t doubt. A mix of butterflies and heat clench my stomach. Something foreign inside tells me to do this. Maybe it’s the devilish curve of his mouth, the commanding way he’s watching me, or the smolder in his eyes, but I’m removing my pants and panties without even thinking about it. I toss both aside, when Micah says into the phone, “We have room at Holt to move in that direction?” He grabs one ankle, placing it high on the armrest, then grabs the other and positions it on the other armrest. My face flushes hot as I’m spread wide while he adds, “Does the space need any upgrades?” I’m shaking at the way he’s looking between my thighs. Hungry. Urgent. Masculine satisfaction. I like the way he wants me. I love the way he needs me. I swallow deeply as he steps closer to the chair, leaning against the armrest. My heart is beating in my chest and I can hear it pound in my ears when he inserts two fingers into his mouth, soaking them with saliva before he adds, “That should work out fine.” I stifle a moan, holding my breath, when he drags his index finger over my slick heat. His grin widens as he runs his finger down my soaked folds. He knows, and I know, that the second he handed me the note I became wet for him. I exhale deeply when his finger enters me. And I can’t fight the moan when a second finger joins the first, moving slowly in and out, dragging sensations out of me. His eyes dance when he begins shifting his fingers faster now, and I don’t know how he makes this feel so good. It’s intense and incredible, somehow building more and more as the seconds pass. “How about the sign I requested?” His voice is steady, but I can’t think. I slap a hand over my mouth, a loud moan threatening to escape, as he is moving his fingers even faster now. Heaviness fills deep inside me, loosening my muscles and then tightening them a second later. He begins thrusting his fingers now, harder and harder, up and down. I reach for his wrist with both hands as the sounds coming from my body are loud enough I fear the person on the phone might hear. His eyes snap to mine and narrow. With one of his hands, he takes my two from his wrist and moves them onto my stomach, pinning them down firmly, silently telling me to stay put. Then his fingers return, thrusting inside me, moving in and out, until my jaw goes slack and a soft moan breathes from my mouth. “Good.” He increases the speed and roughness of his fingers now. I’m clenching my hands into fists and lifting my bottom off the chair, when he calmly adds, “Go ahead with that plan.” My eyes are watering and I can barely see Micah standing there holding his phone. Nor can I hear a word he’s saying. All I can do is melt for him. My orgasm is rolling over me, again and again, and I lose myself entirely, until I hear, “Yes, I’m here.” When I become more aware, Micah’s smiling, a big wide grin at me. “I must have lost a connection,” he says into the phone, and I can only assume he put the call on hold, muting my noises over the last few seconds. He winks at me before he adds, “What did I miss?” While he listens to whomever it is speaking, he lifts his fingers to his mouth—the fingers that had rendered me boneless—and his eyes shut when he drags them against his tongue. I’m still quivering, but now I think I’m shaking because of this. It’s like giving me pleasure gets him off. The way he

touches me is so unselfish, so powerful. It’s everything I didn’t know I wanted in a lover. And now I fully believe that Micah has forever ruined me for any other man. No one can possibly compare. With the same hand that he used to make me feel so good, he takes my chin in his grip, squeezes the flesh, and my lungs expand with deep, satisfied breaths. I love how he makes me feel like I’m being seen when he looks at me. It makes me feel important, sexy…he makes me feel special. It does strange things to my belly and to my heart. But it’s a statement, too. Because now I know this is his compromise, and that’s what he’s showing me. Business might happen and interrupt special moments between us, but I’ll never be forgotten and I’ll always come first. Somehow that’s enough for me.

Chapter 12

Micah Many hours later, I settle in beside the all-glass shower, wearing only my black workout pants, and lean against the vanity mirror above the sink. Staring at the closed bathroom door, I can’t put off the inevitable any longer. In order for me to forge ahead with Allie, I need to settle something first. I reach for my phone inside my pants pocket and quickly scan my contacts, then I press Call. The phone rings twice before I hear “Darius” through the speaker. “It’s Micah,” I tell him, turning around to the mirror behind me, seeing the beads of sweat glistening on my torso, and feeling the dampness from Allie’s orgasm still on my sac. “Could we meet up tomorrow? I have something to discuss with you.” A pause. Then, “Has something come up with Richardson?” I thrust my hand through my damp hair, pushing the strands off my forehead. “It’s not about business and shouldn’t be discussed on the phone.” No, this needs to be discussed face-to-face. “When and where?” Darius asks, voice full with wonder, which no doubt stems from my unexpected phone call. “My house at noon.” “See you then.” I wait for Darius to hang up first and then turn off my phone for the rest of the night, giving Allie my time. I leave the bathroom and move into the bedroom, placing my cell on the nightstand table. Then, returning to Allie in the kitchen, I follow the light spilling into the hallway. I find her sitting cross-legged in front of the refrigerator, a thin sheet around her torso hiding her skin from me. Obviously sensing me, she glances up; her cheeks are still flushed, her lips a little swollen from my kisses. “Is everything okay?” she asks. I’m not sure what she sees on my face, but her ability to see through me is what makes her so special. “It will be,” I reply, dropping down next to her on the cool ceramic floor. Soft blues music is coming from the iPod player in the living room, the only light is from the open refrigerator, and my focus is on this intriguing woman who makes me want to do strange things. “Is this a usual habit for you?” I ask her. “Well, no.” Her long dark hair trails over her bare shoulders when she grabs a piece of cold broccoli from the take-out container of cashew chicken. “This isn’t a usual habit for me. I typically would warm up our food.” She takes a small bite and then smiles. “But you’re to blame. Four orgasms have left me hungry and this is what you get.” I chuckle and reach for a carrot. She beats me to it, feeding me. “No complaining.” “Oh, I’m not, believe me,” I reply, chewing the carrot. She reaches for another and feeds me again. “Besides, don’t you ever do anything random like this?” I arch a brow at her. “Random?” I chew the carrot and swallow, then shake my head. “No, I can’t

say I do much that’s random.” “Hmm” is all she says. I’m not sure what’s on that pretty little mind of hers, but I know exactly what’s on mine. “Tomorrow night I’m hosting a gala at Phoenix for my charity that supports breast cancer research. Would you come with me?” She’s reaching for more food when she pauses halfway and looks at me. “A gala on a Monday night? That’s unusual.” I glance away from her, grabbing a piece of chicken, not shocked that out of everything I said she focused on the one thing I didn’t say. “The event falls on a different day every year.” Of course she doesn’t miss the importance of my declaration. “An anniversary of something, then?” “My mother ’s death.” Allie’s eyes soften naturally in the way that they do. “That’s a sweet way to honor her and make what could be a sad day a little brighter.” I attempt to smile in gratitude that she understands me, but when she adds, “I’m just not sure I’m ready to go so…public,” it’s impossible to hide my disappointment. “Why?” I gently ask. She sighs. “It would change a lot for me. I couldn’t hide…” I stay silent, reaching for a cashew and tossing it in my mouth, allowing her to lead this conversation. My focus narrows on her, and I hear no sounds in her condo but her shallow breaths. The light coming from the fridge highlights the side of her bowed head, and the long strands of her hair are nearly curtaining her expression from me, yet not enough to hide her pained stare. She draws in a huge deep breath before addressing me again. “I have to tell you something that I probably should’ve told you before.” Her head lifts to me, her voice strong. “Darius Bennett is my half-brother.” I ponder how to deal with her honesty. I decide there are enough secrets between us on my end, no need to drag hers into it. “Yes. I know.” Her brows draw together. “Why didn’t you say anything?” “Because it was an unimportant detail.” And I would be breaking my word to Darius if I told her without her acknowledging the truth first. Dating Allie is a complication that I need to sort out with Darius, but I’d never given him my word that I wouldn’t date Allie; I’d only given him my word that I wouldn’t tell her unprompted that I knew of their connection. She cocks her head, watching me intently before grabbing out a piece of chicken from the container and feeding it to me. “It doesn’t bother you that I never told you?” “Why would it?” I finish chewing, thinking I have too many of my own secrets than to pass judgment on someone else for having some. “But it does make me curious as to why you would hide such a thing about yourself.” “Now, that is a complicated answer.” She hesitates while she grabs a cashew and slides it between her pouty lips. “Sometimes when people know that I’m Darius’s half-sister, it can change their perception of me.” “Which you don’t like?” She half shrugs. “It’s not the life I’m used to. All the fame. All the money. I didn’t grow up like

that.” Darius never told me details about Allie’s life, only that she was his half-sister. “What do you mean exactly?” “I mean that I lived very simply growing up,” she explains. “We didn’t buy designer clothes, or have fancy dinner parties, or have housekeepers and things like that. We had hand-me-downs from my mother ’s friends, family dinners every night, and weekly chores. I didn’t know any other way until after my parents died in a plane crash when I was fifteen.” I stroke her knee, the bare skin closest to me. “I’m sorry you lost them, I didn’t know.” “It’s okay.” She shrugs again. “You of anyone knows that sometimes life hands you a shit deal and you have to pick up your socks and move on.” “This is something I wish we didn’t have in a common.” She gives me a sad smile, reaches for a piece of chicken and feeds me. “Anyway, my mom taught me the importance of the little things in life. Things that often get missed when money is involved. When she was married to Darius’s father, she told me, she learned quick that happiness isn’t something that can be bought. So, it was weird for me when I moved in with Darius.” I’m even more curious about her past now. “Darius took you in after your parents passed away, then?” “He was kind of a hero to me.” She smiles sweetly, and the love for Darius is there in the depths of her eyes. “When he heard that I would go into foster care if a family member didn’t step in, he came forward, without ever having met me before.” This I didn’t know. I assumed Darius would be overprotective as her half-brother, now it appears he’s a father figure to her, too. “Why didn’t you meet him before?” I ask, wanting a full understanding of their family dynamic before our meeting tomorrow. “Long story short, his mega-rich father made sure my mom couldn’t see Darius again, as revenge for divorcing him.” I hear the distaste that fills her voice. And now I’m to beginning to see why Allie doesn’t value monetary things. Money ruined her family. I listen intently as she continues. “Darius tried his best for me, but he was also a twenty-five-yearold guy who didn’t know what in the hell to do with a fifteen-year-old girl suddenly living in his house.” “You seem to have turned out okay,” I state. She laughs softly. “Thanks. I think so, too.” The sweet sounds of her amusement fade away with a long heavy sigh. “But because I’ve experienced both lifestyles, I learned I prefer living simply.” “Why?” She reaches for another broccoli and feeds me. “The thing that bothered me most is that once I had money, people started to look at me differently—wanting things from me.” When I cock my head, confused, she explains, “You know, they didn’t like me for me but because of the money I had in the bank.” I silently nod, knowing the look she’s speaking of, because I see it daily. It happens when a person stops looking at you like you’re an equal. When a person gravitates to you for all the wrong reasons. When they don’t want to be your friend out of genuine desire, but because your friendship gives them something. I realize, for the first time, this is what I like about Allie: she doesn’t look at me like that.

She shrugs and adds, “I know it’s kinda weird and all, but I like being seen. I need to be seen for who I am.” I stroke her bare knee again. “I don’t think that’s weird at all.” “You don’t?” I shake my head slowly. “No, I don’t.” She gives me her sweet smile, a gleam in her eye. “Well, after I moved out on my own, I decided to stick to the life I grew up with instead of the life Darius could give me. Now I’m surrounded by people who see me, and love me for who I am, not what I represent.” She tosses a piece of chicken into her mouth. “That’s why I don’t reveal that we’re sister and brother.” And until we’re serious, I can’t take that risk, is what she doesn’t need to say. “You don’t need to explain further,” I say, gently. “I understand.” “Really?” “Yes, really.” I lean forward, dragging my knuckles across her warm cheek. “You’ll be put under a microscope the second the tabloids learn of you. And I’d give it less than twenty-four hours before they know everything about you, so yes, I understand why you want to protect yourself.” Because I protect my secrets too—only my reasons for doing that are far less pure than hers. She leans into my hand. “I’m not saying never, okay? Just not right now. I need a little time to figure all this out and tell the people I need to about Darius.” I nod, not needing to hear more. I get it. “Wait…” Her head suddenly moves away from my hand, hard eyes probing mine. “If you knew about Darius, does that mean that he knows about us?” “He doesn’t yet, but I plan to tell him tomorrow.” “But you don’t—” I press my finger against her lips. “I do business with him, Allie. It’s out of respect, not because I need his blessing.” She watches me for a moment and then kisses my finger before leaning away. “I guess you’re right. Besides, he’ll probably be thrilled about this.” I sincerely doubt that. “How so?” “Because you are rich so he’ll stop worrying I’m one step away from becoming homeless.” I chuckle softly, understanding Darius’s point of view. I would love to give Allie a hired driver, ensuring she’s always safe. Give her a higher income to take away worries of money, because I can. To set her up in a house that I think she deserves. But I also like the fact that Allie doesn’t need any of those things to be happy, and I like that she doesn’t expect me to take care of her. There’s something very sexy about her strength and independence. I grab a piece of chicken, tossing it into my mouth, chewing it longer than necessary, allowing me to think over the meeting with Darius tomorrow. Allie believes he’ll accept our relationship easily. I know he won’t. But I must do whatever necessary to ensure he’ll be okay with this. I can’t not have her, and I will never walk away. I tried that once. It sent me on a bender, where all of me shattered. “Okay, enough with all the serious stuff,” Allie says, drawing my attention. “Tell me what Micah Holt does for fun.” “Mixed martial arts.” I grin, once again hearing the music coming from the living room. “Levi and I get into the cage daily.”

She rolls her eyes. “I said fun. I can’t imagine getting your ass kicked by your driver is enjoyable.” “First, Levi is more family than employee. Second, he rarely kicks my ass.” I had to get that straight. “But to give you the answer you want, when I can, I spend some time at a good friend’s pub. Have you ever been to O’Keefe’s?” She nods. “Liv loves that place. We’ve been there a bunch of times.” “Gabe, my roommate at Harvard, owns it.” “Cool.” She gazes at me firmly, chewing the food in her mouth. “What else?” “Charity events.” “What else?” I stare at her, and even I acknowledge how pathetic I’ve become, not having more answers to give her. All I do is work, or network with others who help me make money. “That’s it?” she asks, eyes wide. I nod. She pinches her lips, regarding me. “We need to fix this immediately.” She jumps to her feet, the sheet trailing after her while she’s moving toward her bedroom. “Come on. We gotta get dressed.” “Where are we going?” I rise to my feet. She peeks over her shoulder. “To do the unthinkable for Micah Holt.” “Oh, yeah.” I grin at her. “What’s that?” “Something random.”

Allie An hour later, Micah holds the safety bar open for me as we exit the Ferris wheel, and mutters, “That was anticlimactic.” I snort a laugh, raising my voice over the chimes of bells dinging through the air. “Maybe for you. My heart is ready to beat right out of my chest.” I really hate heights. He chuckles. “How about we stay at ground level then, hmm?” I nod. “Yes, please.” He readjusts his baseball cap, then takes my hand into the strength of his, leading us away through the dark, clear night. We pass the Tilt-a-Whirl and hear screams of joy carrying over the starry sky, when something catches Micah’s eye. He tugs me forward, and soon I’m standing in front of the water race game. He releases my hand and takes out a five-dollar bill from his wallet, slapping it down on the table. “I’m in,” he says. “Get ready to race,” the carny yells out to no one in particular. Micah picks up the water gun and grins over his shoulder at me. “Prepare to be wowed.” I chuckle, loving seeing him this way, and glad my instincts to take him to the carnival were spoton. There’s a twinkle in his eye, and his smile is a bit brighter than I’ve seen before. And I know why that is. Tonight isn’t about business or someone wanting something from him. It’s just about me and him, and I like it, too. “Okay. I’m ready. Wow me.” I stay back as the carny presses the button starting the game and the creepy clown heads begin moving from left to right. Micah widens his stance and raises the gun, taking aim. His T-shirt lifts a little, showing off the sexy flesh of his lower back. He’s dressed down in his workout pants, making him messier than usual. I decide I love him a little messy. In fact, I get the feeling he likes himself this way, too. His entire body is lax, like a giant weight of responsibility is lifted off him. Loud pings begin to echo the ringing and dinging of the game, breaking into my thoughts, and as clowns begin to fall over, I’m shaking my head in amazement. Is there anything this guy isn’t good at? “Winner,” the carny yells, when every clown is taken out. I clap my hands and whistle, and Micah drops the gun, taking me into a bold public kiss, as if he’d gone to war and come home missing me. When he breaks the kiss and leans away, I smile at him. “And just where did you learn to shoot like that?” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “My father liked to hunt. It’s the one thing we did together.” Tension creases his eyes whenever he speaks of his father, and while everyone has their own baggage, I can’t imagine ever talking about my parents and not having good memories to mention. My chest tightens at the thought, and even if it’s not my pain, I still feel it. “Name your prize,” the carny says, waving to the prizes hanging from the ceiling of the booth. Micah arches a brow at me. “Yours to pick, love.”

“Ooh, lucky me.” I examine the big teddy bears and other stuffed animals. Though none of those compare to what fills my vision. “The cotton candy, please.” The carny hands me the plastic bag of blue and pink cotton candy, and I spin around to Micah. “Ever tried this?” I ask him. “No.” He frowns at the plastic bag. “And I’m not sure I want to.” “Oh, don’t knock it until you try it.” I exhale a long breath, glancing out at the crowd rushing by us. We have ridden every ride, and walked through the park twice and the noise is starting to get to me. My thoughts must’ve shown on my face, since Micah comments, “It’s loud.” “Somewhere quieter, then?” “Yeah, come this way.” He takes my hand and leads me toward the stone pathway behind the Ferris wheel. I’m anticipating a sudden snapping of lights, when a photographer captures Micah and me together. But then I nearly laugh at my own thoughts. No one would expect Micah to be here. I assume Micah himself wouldn’t expect to be here. We walk for a little bit, silent, hand in hand, as the warm breeze brushes across my face. Up ahead of us, the lights from the Golden Gate Bridge twinkle like stars in the night sky. Micah stops at one of the benches along the edge of the bay and we sit down, staring out at the quiet water. He drapes his arm across the back of the bench, resting his hand on my shoulder. “So, carnivals are your idea of fun?” he asks. “Well, it’s one idea of fun.” I cross my legs, snuggling into his side, and open the bag of cotton candy. “You’ve never done anything like this before?” He accepts the piece of cotton candy I offer him, and I’m watching him intently when he places it into his mouth. He immediately frowns. “That’s disgusting.” “It is not,” I argue, tossing some into my mouth and moaning in delight when the sugary goodness melts against my tongue. He flinches, recoiling, and forcibly swallows, when I add, “Anyway, go on. You haven’t done anything like this before?” “The boarding school I went to as a child didn’t venture out to places like this.” His fingers begin trailing over my arm, up and down, bringing a sense of relaxation, not a blaze of passion. Which I admit makes me happy. I like that he can set my body on fire, but I also like that it’s not all he can do to me. I’m warm, comfortable, and I like sitting next to him in a quiet moment together, when he continues, “We visited the wonders of the world and monuments for field trips, and things more educational.” “Those field trips must have been incredible, though.” “They were” is his reply. I note the longing in his voice. And I know that longing well. I remember having it myself when things began to change for me after I moved in with Darius. The constant wonder if you’ve missed out on something in your life. The difference being I made sure I didn’t miss out. I did what I wanted, what made me happy. I’m beginning to see that Micah never had that option. I offer him more cotton candy. He glares at my fingers. “No, one taste was enough.” I laugh and put the piece in my mouth, watching an elderly couple walking by us, hand in hand, before I turn my attention to Micah again. “Tell me something else I don’t know about you.” He’s watching the couple too, and only when they fade into the night does he answer me. “If you

look just past the bridge, do you see that really bright light by the boat dock?” I squint my eyes, staring past all the twinkling lights. “I think so.” “That’s my house.” “Oh, wow.” Now I’m looking a little harder. I can’t see the house at all from where we sit, but the light from the bridge and his boathouse does show me something. “Is that your boat?” “Yeah, that’s Freedom.” “Freedom as in a relaxing day out?” I inquire. “No. That’s her name.” I get the feeling he doesn’t plan on saying much more on the matter, so I enjoy the quiet between us for now. But I conclude, with his structured life, his boat takes away from a stuffy reality. It makes me wonder even more about the man next to me. It makes me wonder how much he does because he wants to and how much he does because he has to and because people expect it of him. It makes me wonder if he’s ever done this, just sit and enjoy someone, talking about nothing in particular, not because you have to, but because you can. “Will you take me out on her sometime?” I ask. A pause. A long enough pause that I’m now realizing he’s never taken a woman to his house or out on his boat before. My heart rate kicks up a notch, but then he finally answers me. “I would like that.” I breathe a sigh of relief, which I hide from him, of course. Leaning my head against his bicep, I devour a few bites of cotton candy, enjoying the easy and comfortable silence between us. I look over at him, watching him stare out at the bay, eyeing a boat drifting by. I’ve met people before who seem to hold the weight of the world on their shoulders— Darius being one of them—but with Micah, it seems like he holds so much more. His gaze is unfocused and so haunted, eyebrows pinching together. “Are you okay?” I ask gently. “Tonight has been…” He glances at me, his expression relaxed, eyes so soft. “Tonight has been nice. Thank you for taking me here.” “You’re welcome.” I give him a big smile. Micah has a lot of layers. Complicated, complex, and confusing layers. Yet I’m beginning to see that maybe he wants what I had growing up. A life that’s different than the one he’s got. I wasn’t sure I could give anything to a billionaire who has everything he’d ever want, but finding happiness in the little things is something I can provide him. And maybe, for the first time ever, Micah feels what it’s like to be around someone who doesn’t want anything from him but his company. I guess that makes me feel pretty good about me, too. His arm wraps tightly around me, making me feel like nothing would get to me when I’m right here, as I stare at the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge reflecting on the water. Time begins to tick by as I finish off the cotton candy, but I don’t count the seconds, I enjoy them. Then, surprising me, he asks, “If I had taken you here for our first date, that would have made you happy?” “Yup.” “Hmm,” is his reply. I angle my head, gazing up at his gorgeous face. “What would make you happy?”

A pause. “This.” He tangles his free hand with mine. “This makes me happy.”

Chapter 13

Micah I stare up at the coffered ceiling, with soft feminine skin surrounding me as the sun is rising in this sky, doing a completely foreign ritual for me. I’ve held Juliet, if she’s needed that from me, after a rough session of sex. This, having Allie against me now, however, has nothing to do with duty to a woman and everything to do with the fact that I like a sleepy Allie in my arms. Christ, she’s making me soft. I’ve welcomed the comfortable silence that’s been between us while we’ve slept on and off throughout the night, but I also don’t mind when Allie’s sweet voice fills the air. “Sometimes do you wish you could stay in a moment forever and never leave?” She moves out of my arms, grabbing a pillow to put beneath her head, to help her see me better. I notice her flinch in pain and make a mental note to take it easy on her the next time I slide between her thighs. “I didn’t before, but I do now,” I answer honestly. Because right now everything seems very simple and uncomplicated between us. “The world can’t touch us here.” She smiles. “No, it can’t.” Secrets couldn’t touch us here either. I drag a finger over her bare shoulder, enjoying the warmth and smoothness of her flesh. My muscles tighten at how she looks into me. Sometimes it feels like she can read right through me. But I don’t want her to dig too deep, so I focus on her. “Tell me: how are you not married?” The soft light from the bedside table casts over her face, showing the slight arch of her mouth. “Never met the right guy, I guess.” “I can’t see how that is even possible.” I turn onto my side, facing her. I need to see her expressions; they tell me everything about her. “What about almost the right guy?” She slides her hands between her cheek and the pillow. “Met him. He married someone else.” “He broke your heart?” I want to kill him. “I wouldn’t say that.” She laughs, somehow loosening my tense muscles with the sweet sound, just that easily. “Then what would you say?” “I’d say that he was someone I dated in high school and liked a lot until I realized he wasn’t at all what I wanted.” She’s watching me in the way she does, slowly peeling away my shields. “But what about you? Any serious girlfriends in your past?” “One.” Her eyes widen, as her head lifts off the pillow. “I admit that I wasn’t expecting you to say that.” “You were expecting me to say none?” “Honestly, yes.” She lowers back down to the pillow, gazing at me with focus. I discover I like surprising her, and smile when she adds, “I’ve never seen any news articles about you having a longtime girlfriend.” “The relationship happened a long time ago, while I attended Harvard, and long before the tabloids

were interested in me. Her name was Clara.” She changed my life, and not in a good way, is what I leave out. “We dated for about two years and I planned to marry her after graduation.” I see the surprise and genuine curiosity on Allie’s face when she asks, “If it was that serious, what happened between you?” My thoughts go fuzzy and Allie begins to fade away as my mind goes to a place it hasn’t been in so long. Class ended a half hour ago and I’m finally entering the four-bedroom Beacon Hill home on Garden Street that I share with Gabe in Boston. I drop my books on the table by the door, seeing a pair of shoes that makes me smile. I hurry up the stairs, taking two at a time. The second I hit the top stair, I stop dead in my tracks, hearing a woman screaming in pleasure. I glance right, seeing Gabe’s bedroom door open, telling me he’s not in his room. Besides, I didn’t see his Audi in the driveway when I came home, so I know it’s not him and some chick he’s picked up and brought home. My heart rate speeds up as I move farther down the hallway, seeing my bedroom door open, realizing that’s where the woman’s loud moans are coming from. They’re delicious sounds that usually get me off when I’m alone. They’re intense, desperate, but they’re not giving me the hard-on now that they usually do. I slowly enter my bedroom, seeing the slender brunette—with the stylish bob haircut—sitting at my desk. I can’t see her face as she’s staring at my laptop, watching the woman who’s bound to a table with rope, being taken roughly by the man wearing a black masquerade mask. I know the video. I jerked off to it last night. “Clara,” I say. She gasps, lurching to her feet, spinning around to face me. I can tell the video doesn’t arouse her like it does me. Her eyes are guarded. “Is this what you want to do to me?” she asks. “I…” I don’t know how to answer her. Clara was a virgin when I met her. I don’t know how she’ll take this. I also don’t want to lie to her. “Is this what you want to do to me, Micah?” she shouts, fists clenching at her sides. I wish I could pretend these desires haven’t been filling my mind. But as my soon-to-be fiancée, she needs to know these things about me. She needs to know these videos are what I jerk off to and all I fucking think about, because the sex we have isn’t satisfying enough to me. And maybe…just maybe… she’ll let me touch her in this way. “I would like to do this to you, yes.” “No, Micah, you can’t want this,” she says, shaking her head. “This is wrong.” Tears rise in her eyes and then begin to flood her face as she wraps her arms around herself, watching as the man in the video begins flogging the woman on the table. “How could you want to hurt me?” “I don’t want to hurt you,” I tell her gently. “I want it to be fun. I want you to like it.” I take a step toward her and she steps back, looking at me like I’m a killer a second away from attacking her. I stay put, not wanting to scare her, as she adds, “How could you do this to me? I told my parents that we were going to get married. It’s why we had sex. You promised we’d be together.” “I still want to be together,” I whisper. “I don’t need this. Forget about it all.” I’m lying. I do need this. It’s sex that I’m learning more about because Gabe is involved in a club known to a few elite Harvard students. It’s a club I want to go to. I want to spend my nights surrounded by women in lingerie, who sexually attend to the men there. I want to sit and drink scotch, watching women get

flogged, bound, and fucked. I want to be that guy. This man I am with Clara, it’s not me. The woman and the man in the video begin grunting loudly with their orgasms and Clara’s thin face becomes ashen. “I can’t ever forget this. What am I going to tell my parents now?” “Nothing,” I beg. “You’ll say nothing. They don’t need to know about this. We can put this behind us.” I reach for her. “No. God, no. Don’t touch me.” She’s backing away from me, eyes wide and distrustful. “You’re disgusting. You want to hurt women, Micah. I don’t even know you. You’ve ruined me.” She’s screaming at me now and I can’t even look at her, shame holding me to the spot. “You’ve ruined my life!” I blink into the present, seeing Allie’s eyes focused directly on me, awaiting my answer. I want to tell her these truthful things about my past, but I can’t. My shame is mine to bear and I don’t want Allie anywhere near it. There are reasons I keep my dark desires hidden from those who can’t handle them and only partake in consensual kinky sex with women who love that type of sex themselves. It protects them from me. “What happened between us?” I repeat Allie’s question, feeling heaviness forming in my chest, emotion rising that I cannot stand. She nods, and I swallow against the thickness in my throat. “We weren’t meant to be.” Allie’s watching me in that intense way she does, like she knows I’m hiding things from her, like she sees parts of myself that I wish she wouldn’t. She finally breaks eye contact and blinks. “Do you still talk to Clara?” she asks. I’m trying not to notice how the blanket slides off Allie’s back when she moves a little closer toward me, showing off a long, smooth spine that I want to kiss. She makes it hard for me. Because there’s something inside me now clawing to get out. Hot flashes rush across me, as the weight on my chest is getting heavier. “Sadly, Clara passed away.” Allie’s fingers find mine under the pillow, squeezing tight. “Gosh, that’s so sad. She must have been young.” I nod in conformation, and Allie’s eyes are searching mine. “I’m sorry you lost her.” I reach out and stroke Allie’s cheek, despite the pain beginning to strangle my throat. Tighter…and tighter. Her kindness is infectious. The sweetness about her, the innocence of a life not shattered by darkness, it all draws me to her. I want to taste this life she’s offering. It’s a life I don’t know. Because this is what I need. Her light. Her warmth. A place away from the darkness that threatens to invade me, and that I’m fighting so hard to keep away from her. I’m not sure what she’s seeing on my face, but she’s leaning into me, moving closer. It’s so dangerous for her and she doesn’t even know it. I shut my eyes and let her kiss me in the way she wants to kiss me. Our mouths move gently together and each second that passes, I’m not thinking of her, I’m thinking of slowing down my heart rate and focusing on my breathing. I want to forget Clara. I want to forget the pain. I want to forget it all and become lost in Allie. I keep my eyes shut, inhaling and exhaling deeply through my nose, while she moves away. I hear a wrapper being opened and then feel her applying the condom over my rock-hard cock. Thump, thump, thump…My heart is hammering in my ears, my breathing is so very deep. I can’t open my eyes to her in fear I’ll see her innocence and want to absorb it all for myself. In fear that I’ll grab her, fuck her until she can’t move, until her body is used by me, until I can’t feel again. A slow slide of heat burns across me as Allie straddles me, resting her hands on my chest, taking

me deep inside her. Warm. Wet. Perfect. I clench my fists at my sides, fighting off the urges slamming into my body to overpower her. She’s thrusting slowly against me, riding me gently, lovingly. I reach for her hips, trying to slow her down. She’s sore, I remind myself. But she’s not listening to me. She grabs my wrists, prompting me to reopen my eyes, and pins my hands to my chest, shifting her hips, faster and faster. Her round breasts are bouncing in my line of vision; her sexy body all mine to watch, while she moves back and forth, faster…and faster…and faster. Her moans are louder now and closer together, and I’m fighting my orgasm, because I need more from her to sedate me. This isn’t about sexual satisfaction for me, it’s about a release. It’s about shedding the emotion invading every crevice of my body. I need her to scream. I need her to lose her fucking mind. I need to forget. Her head tilts back and she’s taking her pleasure, and all I can do is watch her, too afraid that if I take control, I will dominate every part of her mind, body, and soul. That I will use her to fix me, and I can’t do that. Not to her. But now I’m losing myself to pleasure with each quick shift of her hips. I yank my hands from beneath hers and grasps her breasts. “Yes,” I grunt, as she rubs her hips, back and forth against me. “Yes. Come on.” I grit my teeth, encouraging her to move faster. “Oh, God…” She’s pumping her hips, back and forth now, faster…and faster. I grip her hips, helping her shift quickly over me, my cock throbbing deep inside her. “Ooooh…” she gasps, her mouth falling open. Then she’s roaring her pleasure, arching her back. Her round breasts and taut nipples fill my vision. Her tight pussy clamps down on my shaft, while she’s quivering and gyrating on top of me. I can’t come with her, not yet. I need more. Slowly, she’s recovering, moving up and down now, opening her sated eyes to me. Her warm wetness is sliding over me, and I’m moaning in gratitude, while she’s breathless on top of me. I massage her breasts, focusing on her nipples, and running my hand down to her clit, circling the bud. She begins to bounce on me again and I assist her to move harder; loud slaps of skin fill the air, along with the musky aroma of our sex. “So good,” I growl against the warm touches of pleasure washing through me. I tighten my buttocks, pushing my cock deeper, and I see the widening of her eyes and the building flush across her chest. “More,” she gasps. Then she’s no longer shifting up and down, but sliding over me, back and forth, in the way I’m learning she does to bring herself to orgasm. “Please.” She’s panting deliciously now, moving so damn fast. “More. More. Please.” I’m moaning alongside her, because somehow she’s even tighter than before, and even wetter, and she’s bringing herself to another orgasm like a fucking pro. Her entire body is a shaking mess of satisfaction when I grab her, bringing her chest to mine, tucking her head into my neck. I shift my hips up into her, pumping my cock all the way inside her, and soon she’s matching my speed, our hips moving together in a steady rhythm. I dig my fingers into the sweaty flesh of her hips, lifting her up, then thrusting her down on my throbbing dick. Her lips somehow find mine and our kiss is messy; it’s sexy; it’s perfect. She cups the side of my face, holding on to me like she controls me. And in this moment, she does. She fucking owns me. My grunts are unstoppable now, mirroring her raspy moans. Sweat is sliding deliciously over her body and rubbing against mine, when she rises up, returning to offer me a view of her great bouncing

tits, when she grinds herself against me. “Again. More.” She pinches her eyes shut, hands resting on my chest. “Please.” I grasp her hips tight, stopping myself from smacking her round ass, bringing her even higher than she can take herself. “Yes. Oh, God…” She’s screaming now and her cunt is squeezing my shaft in a vise grip. I can’t even touch her anymore, because I’m clenching my fists at my sides, as her G-spot orgasm drenches me with warm arousal, and I’m becoming damn near cross-eyed, unable to ignore my needs any longer. My semen explodes out of me, and I’m bucking and jerking beneath her, roaring out my pleasure. Many minutes go by, while we’re a tangled mess between the sheets. I can’t move. She can’t move. All I smell is sex and sweat. All I feel is her. But the only thing that matters is that my chest is light, my throat is no longer tight, and my demons are silently resting again.

Chapter 14

Allie I’m standing in Holt’s break room the next morning, and nearly jump out of my high heels at Liv’s voice. “Congratulations, girl!” I swing around to her. “Did they call?” Two hours ago I’d shown the Lowes Kevin’s house and I’d been waiting on their call ever since. “Oh, God, please tell me they called.” “Oh, yeah, baby, they called.” Liv gives me a big smile. Relief washes over me as I smack my hand to my heart, nearly sagging against the row of cabinets next to me. “Thank goodness.” Micah told me that Peter wouldn’t allow Jenny to be picky too long and he’d been right. “I knew Peter loved the house, but it’d been 50/50 when it came to Jenny.” “He must’ve convinced her.” Liv pours herself a black coffee and takes a sip before adding, “Which is good, because let me tell you, that woman sends me more emails than anyone I have ever met.” I laugh softly, understanding completely. “Have you—” “Of course I have.” Liv smiles. “The Purchase Agreement, for the full asking price, is being drafted as we speak, and I’ll have it on your desk in a half hour to review.” “You’re the best,” I tell her. “Yes, I am.” She leans in a little closer to me. “But enough about my awesomeness; how are things with Micah? What happened after he showed up at your place yesterday?” I glance at the door, making sure no one is entering. “Well, we’re back on.” My stomach knots a little when I add, “He asked me to go to a gala with him tonight, but I said no.” Her brows shoot up, though in the same second, Anderson enters the break room, moving toward us at the coffee machine. My cheeks warm with my embarrassment, knowing he probably heard what I said. Liv hastily puts on her most professional expression. “Again, a job well done on the Lowe deal, Allie.” “It wouldn’t have happened without you,” I reply, making sure Anderson hears Liv kicked ass, too. “Thanks for the hard work and late nights.” She winks at me and then saunters out of the break room, leaving me alone with Anderson. He grabs a mug from the cabinet and makes himself a piping-hot cup of coffee. “Congratulations on your deal.” “Thanks.” I smile, picking up my mug and carefully taking a sip. Anderson’s not moving away, so I look up at him, finding him watching me. “Why aren’t you going to the gala tonight with Micah?” he asks. “I would like to go with him.” I quickly glance at my coffee cup in my hands, feeling my cheeks become hot at his interrogation. “But we all know that going anywhere as Micah’s date will lead to a big tabloid story tomorrow.” Anderson’s not moving or saying anything, so I peek up at him again, finding genuine surprise on his face. “To be honest, I’m not really ready for that.”

“Hmm,” Anderson says, sipping his coffee. I can tell he’s wondering over my answer. I imagine most women would jump at the chance to be photographed on Micah’s arm. But then I become the surprised one when Anderson asks, “Can I show you something?” “Um…okay.” Coffee cup in hand, I follow him to the hallway and then into the elevator. We whizz down to the bottom floor, and soon I’m heading into one of the offices on the lower level. The second I step through the glass doors, I stop dead, gawking at the sign behind the receptionist. Holt’s Homes. We don’t find houses. We find homes, so you can create memories. While the sign is making me do a double take, something else makes me completely speechless. I recognize the people in this small office, who are waving at me and saying hello as they walk by us. It’s all my old Richardson co-workers, just in a much nicer office, with some new employees, too. I glance sideways at Anderson. “What is this?” “This is the old Richardson and the new Holt’s Homes,” he explains, waving out at the cubicles. “Instead of swallowing Richardson, Micah made a new division of Holt. The sixtieth floor—which includes you and Liv—will handle the upper-class residential sales for Holt. Here, at Holt’s Homes, their focus will be on the middle class, mostly families.” Anderson scans the office from left to right and then smiles at me. “Eventually we hope to see this department grow, but for now we’ll start small and build it up.” I can’t believe he did this is what I want to say. Instead, I say, “Wow.” But I also can’t believe what I’m seeing: We find homes, so you can create memories. I’d told Micah that’s why I loved selling real estate. I’m realizing that he didn’t only keep his word, he took my ideas and somehow folded them into Richardson to make the company more than it was before. Yes, this is his company, but my mark is all over it. Anderson apparently hears the shock rumbling in my voice, since he comments on it. “Yes. What Micah did here…it’s unthinkable for him.” I place my coffee cup on the desk next to me and then turn to face Anderson fully. “What do you mean?” He leans a shoulder against the wall, folding his arms. “When Micah’s team told him that we were all against this happening, since it didn’t make sense for Holt to invest money into Richardson, he invested his personal money into this new venture. Which in itself is a risk, since he won’t see a return for at least a year, considering he’s paying Bennett Inc. to get Richardson up to speed.” So Darius had a hand in this, too? I suppose that explains why he knew I had started working for Holt and how Micah had found out I’m Darius’s half-sister. A lump forms in my throat, but it’s not necessarily a bad lump. It’s one of those life-changing epiphany kind of lumps. Micah risked things for me. Big things. Financial things that I can’t imagine him ever risking, like using his own personal money instead of Holt’s, all because he gave me his word that he would save Richardson. While I know Micah won’t lose money on this venture, because he’s too business smart for that, he’s still taking a risk…for me.

“It’s an amazing thing he did, isn’t it?” Anderson remarks. Now I’m reading Anderson’s expression perfectly. He cares for Micah—a great deal, it seems— and he showed me this for one very good reason: so I’ll see Micah, not how the world paints him, not as the billionaire, not as the playboy, but as the man. The one who risked things for me when he didn’t have to. The man who wants me there with him tonight. The man who deserves a girlfriend who’s proud to be photographed next to him. “It is amazing, yes.” Anderson gives a gentle smile. “It’s such a shame that the tabloids don’t focus on stories such as this one or Holt’s Hope, don’t you think?” Then he strides away, leaving me lost in my thoughts. Yeah, it is a shame. I feel so foolish, so selfish, because I’m doing exactly what I wouldn’t want Micah to do to me. I’m not being there for him when he needs me to be. Determined to correct my error, I reach for my phone from the back pocket of my slacks, scroll my contacts, and then hit Call. One ring later, Micah’s gravelly voice slides across me in its usual warm sensual way. “This is a wonderful surprise.” “Guess where I’m standing?” I ask. “Not naked in front of me; therefore, wherever you are is totally unacceptable.” I snort a laugh. “I’m standing in Holt’s Homes.” “Ah…are you?” He pauses, then curiosity fills his voice. “What do you think of my new venture?” I glance around at the cubicles, seeing Sandy, whose husband died this year, and Jacob, whose daughter has cancer. “Right now, I’m feeling so happy I could damn near explode. It couldn’t be more perfect.” “Good.” His voice softens, tenderly. “That’s good.” “You know, though, as I was standing here, I got to thinking about tonight.” He stays silent, so I add, “I’ve changed my mind about the gala. What time will you be picking me up?” His hesitation is long enough I’m wondering if we’ve been disconnected. Then, “You don’t have to come with me.” “I want to.” Another pause. “Be ready at 6 P.M .” Then his voice became deeper. “Oh, and Allie?” “Yeah?” “Wear something sexy.”

Micah “Mr. Bennett here to see you, sir.” I turn away from the boat gliding down the San Francisco Bay, seeing the butler of the house, Edward. A gentleman of fifty years, he’s standing near the French doors leading to the mansion’s living room. I don’t have the relationship with Edward that I have with Levi’s father, but I trust him. He is a safe—everything stays locked up tight. I remind myself how much I respect that about him, when he finishes, “He’s waiting for you in the sitting room.” “Thank you, Edward.” Allie’s on my mind when I follow him inside the house and watch him scurry off to the kitchen, no doubt to check in on the other staff. The soles of my shoes scuff against the dark hardwood floor as I’m making my way down the long hallway, wishing I could be anywhere but here. I’m not a fan of coming home, which is why I stay at the Phoenix. There are too many memories here. My skin crawls in the way it usually does when I’m here, as I enter the sitting room on the left, my gaze instantly connecting with the photo of my mother, resting on the small table near the bay window. A dark-haired beauty with delicate, fine features and eyes matching the color of mine, my mother was an elegant and lovely woman. In the photo, she’s sitting in the very same antique French chair that Darius is now occupying. He rises from his seat, offering his hand. “Good afternoon, Micah.” I return his handshake. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.” “I’ll admit that I was surprised to receive your phone call,” Darius begins, lowering to his seat. “What’s going on?” There are a hundred things I could say, but I decide not to waste time. “I’ve been dating your sister.” One second, I’m standing in front of Darius. The next, he slams me against the wallpapered wall. Which is precisely why we’re meeting at the house today and not at Holt. His coffee-laced breath brushes across my face; a vein in his forehead is straining against his skin. “You will stop seeing her.” “No.” His face closes in on me, skin mottling. “No?” “No,” I repeat, more firmly now. “I’m telling you out of respect, not to seek your approval.” I groan as his fingers tighten on my throat, allowing him to keep me pinned to the wall. I understand his anger. Christ, I deserve his anger. But I’ll only allow this to go so far. “Let me go, Darius,” I warn. Seconds tick by… He finally drops his hand, steps back, and jabs a finger in my face. “When did this fucking happen?” “We haven’t been together long.” I rub my throbbing neck, urging blood flow. “I also didn’t know she was your sister until you told me the other day.” I move to the wingback chair across from the dark wood antique coffee table and take my seat, putting some much-needed space between us.

“You should have told me then,” he says through gritted teeth. “Yes, I should have,” I agree. “But I also needed Allie to tell me that she was your sister first, and then out of loyalty to her, I wanted to make sure she was okay with you knowing about us.” Clearly not satisfied with my answer, Darius stays by the wall, planting his feet wide. “What the fuck do you want with her?” I answer the deeper question hidden in his: Are you just screwing her? “I want to keep dating her.” A muscle twitches in Darius’s jaw before he turns his back on me, storming toward the bay window. The silence is heavy and thick, becoming daunting as each second passes. I again glance at the photo of my mother, on the table next to me. I think she would approve of Allie. They share similarities, I realize now. The light they exude, the joy for the little things, the love for life; they both have that blinding glow about them that lights up a room and makes others want to be around them. Which is why I can’t back down now. Allie makes me break my own rules. Rules I thought were unbreakable. I’ll fight like hell for her. I hear Darius sighing dejectedly before he faces me again. “You took me off guard. I apologize for —” “Don’t apologize,” I mutter. “I recognize the position this must put you in.” He takes the seat beside me, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Does she know about your…particular tastes?” “No.” Nor do I intend to tell Allie about my dark desires. I’m under control. My demons are calm and quiet, and I learned last night that when they rise up, she can remove them. Christ, maybe I’m past all that now. I want her, and wanting her means I can’t allow any darkness to creep up. A deep frown creases Darius’s mouth. “This is a fucked-up situation, Micah.” “I know.” He finally breaks the staring contest, blows out a deep, loud breath, and shakes his head. “I would never tell Allison who she should date. She would kick my ass from here to Alcatraz if I interfered in your relationship. But I know, and you know, these secrets could hurt her.” “I’m well aware of what I could do to her.” I put a voice to the conclusions I’ve already made about Allie. “But you don’t need to protect her anymore.” “Why is that?” “Because she’s mine to protect now.” I hold his challenging stare. “I don’t need the things you think I do.” The dark, rough sex that tames my demons. “Not with her. Not anymore.” Darius snorts, giving me an incredulous stare. “You honestly think you can walk away from something you have craved—and needed—for over fifteen years?” He does not believe me. I told myself I had to. “For her. Yes.” Darius considers me again, long and hard. He eventually heaves another sigh, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “I implicitly trust you, but Allison”—his expression softens and his voice cracks with emotion—“she is very special to me. I need you to promise me…” “That I’ll be careful with her?” I offer. Darius gives a firm nod. I press my hands to my tired eyes, because we both know I could destroy Allie, so very easily. I

could take all her innocence for my own personal enjoyment and suck it up until she’s bone-dry. That’s why we have the DC—to provide us with willing women capable of handling men like us. But that feeling to own Allie, to claim her soul in every sense of the word, and to ask her to submit to my dark desires is not driving me now. I want her heart. “I know that I only have two choices when it comes to Allie.” I drop my hands, admitting some hard truths. “Leave her alone. Or eliminate my secrets so they can’t hurt her.” With Clara, I’d been an inexperienced kid, unsure what I wanted. I’ve lived in the dark shadows of my dominance, feeding my desire to hide beneath my pain, and that’s not what I want anymore. Allie, she’s what I need. “Which is exactly the point,” Darius responds, sternly, to my statement. “You could leave her alone.” “Sadly, that’s not an option.” I ignore the way his lips press together tight. This isn’t Darius’s choice. “If I could have left her alone, I would’ve. Yet…” I hesitate, pondering how to put this. At first, it seems complicated, but I realize, in fact, it’s so very simple. “I cannot stay away from her.” I need her. Darius scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “But will she even know you? Or will she know the man you want her to see.” He begins tapping his foot; his posture becoming rigid, cords twanging in his neck. “That’s not protecting her, Micah. That’s lying to her.” I can’t disagree with him. I’m tainting the relationship right from the start if I keep all my dirty little secrets from her, because my not telling her is a conscious choice to protect myself, not protect her. “Which brings us to the final thing I will say on the matter.” I’m done easing him into his transition. He doesn’t have to agree. But he needs to accept our relationship. “I believe it’s time for me to start stepping away from the DC. We all know I haven’t been as invested in the DC as I once was. Juliet can continue handling all matters with Lace, since she’s doing that anyway. We’ll simply pull me out as the middleman.” Darius’s eyes widen before he collects himself. “First, you think you don’t need the kink. Now you’re giving up control of a world you’ve held a very tight grip on.” I see no judgment on his expression, only concern as he adds, “Are you sure this is wise?” I rise from my seat. “I said I’ll protect Allie and be what she needs me to be.” I don’t need doubts. I need to stay focused on what Allie needs of me. “Stop questioning me—it’s my decision to make.” Darius snorts and rises from his seat, shaking my hand. “While I appreciate and can respect the changes you’re making for Allison, tread carefully with her.” His eyes become hard, cold and flinty, and he squeezes my hand tight. “Cause her any pain whatsoever—heart, body, or mind—and I’ll fucking lay you out, Micah.” I return the firm grip. He could try. “Warning noted.”

Chapter 15

Allie In my bedroom, I move to the floor mirror in the corner, running my hands down the black lace Atelier Versace gown. I turn slightly, admiring the open back all the way down to above my butt. When I turn again to face the mirror, the light sparkles off the Tiffany’s mixed cluster necklace around my neck, matching cluster earrings, and the bracelet on my left arm. All of which are gifts from Micah that were delivered to my condo minutes after I got home from work today. I heave a long sigh, hearing a scuffle behind me before I see Liv at my shoulder in the mirror. She smiles, admiring her work. “Wow. Just wow.” The second I plucked the dress from the white box wrapped in a red bow, I called in reinforcements for tonight. It’d been so long since I went to a black tie event, and wearing this dress and jewelry needs hair and makeup that matches, or there’s no way in hell I could pull off this look. And, well, Liv is really great at girly things. “You’re going to blow Micah’s mind tonight,” she adds, lifting her twinkling eyes to mine in the mirror. Even I have to admit that the dress, the heavier makeup than I usually wear, and the soft updo make me look ready to walk the red carpet at the Oscars. Still, though…I draw in a heavy breath and exhale it deeply through my nose, as nervous butterflies flutter in my belly. Liv rolls her eyes. “And somehow only you could look so miserable in”—she waves a hand over my body—“this.” “It’s excessive.” I stare in the mirror at the gown, embellished with what I think might be Swarovski crystals. “I don’t even want to know how much Micah spent on all of it.” “Oh, hush.” Liv tucks a couple of loose, fallen curls back into place with bobby pins. “You’re not supposed to think about those things. Besides, it’s not like it’s breaking Micah’s bank account to get you this stuff.” “Just because he can afford it”—I step away from the mirror and move into the hallway, entering my living room—“doesn’t mean I need them. There’s starving children in the world, for cripes’ sake.” Liv follows me into the living room, and when I turn back to her, I find a smile on her face. “There are, yes, and it’s all types of terrible. But let’s not forget that Micah gives a lot of his money to help children, so let him spoil you one day out of the year.” My throat is tightening because with Micah it’s not going to be one day out of the year. It’ll be a lot of days out of the year that we’ll have to attend charity functions and such, where people will only see me as Micah’s girlfriend, not Allie Parker. My heart begins racing, but I exhale a long breath, stopping the panic. Micah enjoyed the carnival and seemed comfortable staying at home with me, too. He’s open to not being in the spotlight all the time, and that’s a compromise we can make. Besides, Liv is right—Micah does give a lot in return. And that’s not something I ever saw a lot of

growing up. Darius was too focused on rebuilding his lost inheritance to give any of his money away to others. I’m wondering now if it would’ve changed my perception of things if he had been more giving with his money. I’m also wondering if those glazed looks and distant stares from others will bug me as much now that I’m older, and now that I have Liv, Taylor, and also a life that I built for myself. I guess, tonight, I’ll find out. Liv steps in closer, studying me from head to toe. “Okay, let’s give you one final look to make sure everything is perfect.” I watch her examine every single part of me, making sure when the world sees me tonight, not a strand of hair is out of place. God, she’s so good to me. Guilt makes my chest feel like a thousandpound weight is pushing against me. Through the entire time Liv applied my makeup, I thought of how to explain that I hadn’t exactly been honest with her about my past. Tomorrow the tabloids would know the truth about me, or at least I assumed they would, and I really want Liv to hear it from me. But how does one explain? Oh, by the way, I’m actually really rich, but I don’t use the money because it feels dirty, so this whole perception that I’m a normal, struggling twenty-five-year-old is actually complete bullshit. Don’t be mad, ’kay? I tried a least a dozen times tonight, but I froze. Every damn time. “Hmm…” she says, dragging me from my thoughts. She’s tapping her lip, staring directly at my face, then quips, “One final thing, then my masterpiece is complete.” I should laugh, but I can’t. My insides are twisting, watching her reach into her makeup bag, taking out a cherry-red shade of lipstick. She carefully applies it to my lips and hands me a tissue. “Blot, and then you’ll be done.” I blot carefully, doing as told, and when she takes the tissue from my hand, she adds, “There. Perfect.” She places the lipstick into my black clutch and then shoves it at me. My heart begins pumping harder. Time is counting down. “Listen, Liv, we need to talk.” I hear the shakiness in my voice. “Oh, yeah, about what?” She moves to the curling iron resting on the coffee table and switches it off. “Well…you see…” I draw in a long deep breath, forcing myself to go on. “I haven’t been entirely —” The loud beep of my cellphone blasts into the air, and Liv waves me off, grabbing the phone. “Hold that thought.” She peeks at the screen, a smile rising to her face. “Whatever it is, you’ll have to tell me later. Micah’s a minute away.” “He can wait.” My skin flushes, face warms. “It’s important.” “Tonight’s important.” She grabs my clutch out of my hand and places my cell inside before handing it back to me. “And there’s nothing you can’t tell me later.” With her classic Liv beaming smile, she pushes me toward my front door and then steps back, giving me an examination, fiddling once more with my hair. “You look absolutely beautiful. The tabloids are going to be all over this, and they’re going to love you.” “Thank you, but—”

“Oh, my God, Allie.” She sighs in exasperation, scowling at me. “It can wait.” She swings open my front door. “Go. No time to waste. Your knight in shining armor awaits you.” “My knight in shining armor?” I raise my brows at her. Liv giggles, giving a little shrug. “Okay, how about your hot, rich boyfriend?” “That’s probably closer to the truth.” Micah’s a lot of things, but a knight in shining armor isn’t exactly one of them. “But let me just—” “Leave?” Liv quips. “Yup, that you can do. Now go and wow the world with your awesomeness.” She shoves me out and slams the door, locking it behind me. I sigh at my closed door. “Fuck.”

Micah The second the Bentley comes to a stop, I’m out the door, enraptured by the vision before me. Allie’s dress is hugging her body as I imagined it would when I selected it for her to wear tonight. “Christ, Allie,” I murmur, closing my body against hers and running my hand across her rosy cheek. “You are breathtaking.” “Thank you…for all of it.” She turns her head slightly, kissing my thumb with her pouty, painted red lips. I’m imagining that lipstick around my dick when she adds, “You clean up nice, too.” I step back, holding her hand, giving her the look over she deserves. A long, slow whistle escapes my mouth as I lift my hand high and she spins, showing me the open back of her dress. Unable to deny myself the available flesh, I trail my finger from her nape all the way down to the dimples above her bottom, relishing in her shiver, and groaning against the blood rushing to my cock. When she turns to face me again, I clench my jaw, desire flicking like flames through my veins. “No one will notice me tonight.” Not with her next to me. “Oh, please.” She scans my tux with its black tie and exaggeratedly rolls her eyes. “In that tux, everyone will notice you.” I still disagree with her, but keep silent, leading her to the car. “Your chariot awaits you.” She gives a soft laugh and slides into the backseat, and once I settle in next to her, she says to Levi, “It’s good to see you again, Levi.” “You as well, Miss Parker.” Her lips part, and Levi adds with a smile, “Right, forgive me, Allie.” “Much better,” she quips. Amused by their interaction, I shut the door and focus on her next to me, while the soft purr of the engine surrounds us. The more I look, the more I’m noticing the tightness around her pretty eyes. “You sure you want to do this? I can tell Levi to turn around.” She gives me a small smile. “No, it’s okay, really. Just a little nerve-racking, I guess.” A sad tone fills her voice, gaze downcast. “I wanted to tell Liv tonight about everything, but it was a lot harder than I thought it’d be. Every time I tried to tell her, my voice froze.” “She’s a good friend to you.” I tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “She’ll forgive you once you tell her why you kept this to yourself.” “Hope so.” I see the tension in her posture, the worry in the depths of her eyes, and it makes me think of how much she’s risking for me. “But this is happening the second I step out of the car with you,” she continues, giving me a sweet, uneasy grin. “Soon I’ll belong to the world for a little while, so I gotta just deal with it.” I’m not sure why her statement affects me so intensely, but it does. Blood rushes to my already hard cock, hardening me to pain. This burn I experience for her flows so deep into my body, I can’t control myself. She’s right—by tomorrow morning, all of San Francisco will know she’s mine, and I’m hers. I will have to share her. Her life will be picked apart, until the tabloids grow tired. We’ll be

all everyone is talking about, including everyone at Holt. But for now, in this quiet moment in the back of the car, I want her all to myself. Her brows begin drawing together when I hit the button on the armrest beside me. The black panel begins to rise, separating us from Levi. Right before the divider closes, I tell Levi, “Drive until I tell you otherwise.” “What are you doing?” Allie gasps, when I yank her onto my lap. I slide my hands over her neck, grasping her nape. “Taking what I want.” Her hands come up to my shoulders, nails digging in through my coat. “Now?” “Stay still.” I grab the neckline of her dress, gently pulling the fabric down, as well as her bra, exposing her puckered nipples. I squeeze each breast in my hands, latching onto the hard bud, sucking her nipple to the roof of my mouth. She gives a soft moan when I twirl my tongue around her areola before licking her other nipple, tasting what’s mine. Fuck, what this woman does to me. I’m growling as I pop my mouth off her nipple, sealing my lips over hers, kissing her firmly. Hard. Passionate. Hungry. Her tongue is twirling with mine and she’s hiding nothing from me. Her transparency—vulnerability—burns within me, freeing me to be myself. She wants me; I feel that in the hard press of her lips against mine. My breath deepens, my muscles flexing, clenching and unclenching with the race of my heart. Claim her. I clasp my hand around her nape, struggling to stay present, not allowing my real desires to rise. The urge to push her face against the blacked-out window and to drive into her until I made her weak overwhelms me, yet with a grunt, I force the thought away. She begins grinding against my erect shaft, and I’m kissing my way over to her neck and nibbling there, relishing her desperate moans. Urgent to feel all of her, I run my hand up her thigh, pushing her dress closer to her hips and inching my way toward her sex. When I touch silky flesh, I break the kiss, looking between her thighs, finding she’s wearing black lingerie, garters and all. “Is this the something sexy I asked you to wear?” I pull on the garter, slapping the band against her leg. “Well, you bought the dress, so I bought the lingerie.” She arches her brows, skin flushed. “Do you like them?” I grasp her hip, shifting her against my hard cock. “What do you think?” Her eyes roll into the back of her head and she moans. She’s wanting to please me…to be the woman she thinks will make me happy…to be the woman I desire, and now I’m reeling. Like she’s always done, she’s stripping me bare, layer by layer. “Is this what you want, Allie?” I squeeze my fingers tightly on her nape, pressing her harder against my cock, feeding her the pleasure she’s craving. “What you need?” “Yes…” She fights against my hand, arching her back, filling my vision with perfect round breasts. She’s offering herself to you. Take her. My vision is blurring, my chest squeezing, when I cup the side of her head, bringing her gaze to mine. “Do you know what I want, Allie? What would please me most?” She nibbles on the end of my thumb, breathless. “What? Tell me.” “I want to watch you.” I gesture to my pants, releasing my hands and resting them at my sides on the leather seat. “Undress me.” Heat is flaring inside of me, clawing to be freed, demanding to be fed.

Her breath becomes shaky—desperate—when she scoots back on my thighs and then removes my belt and opens my fly. I grab my wallet from my pocket and lift my hips, helping her push down my pants to my knees, groaning against the air brushing across my straining cock. I offer her the condom, watching as she opens the wrapper with her teeth. She strokes me from base to tip, sliding the precum over the rounded top. My eyes shut, pleasure sliding like adrenaline through me when she applies the condom. Then I reopen my eyes, finding an angel looking at me. That innocence…the purity…she’s yours to command, to protect, to cherish…it’s all yours to absorb, echoes in my mind. Weight now fills my chest alongside the heat, pulling and pulling at me… She’s nearly lowered onto me when I grasp her bottom, squeezing hard. “No. Turn around.” A small smile curves her mouth before she pulls her legs up and spins around. My thighs are surrounding hers as she places her feet on the floor, and her bottom is resting in my lap. I grasp my latex-covered cock, holding myself up to her when she begins to lower down. I’m fighting the urge to slam her down on me, and instead gather her dress in my hands, holding the fabric to her waist, watching myself disappear inside her warm, wet channel. Her soft moan echoes mine when she takes me all the way to the hilt, and I grit my teeth against the surge of euphoria lacing my veins. The streetlights passing by the tinted windows continue putting her in the light and then darkening her in the shadows. She’s bouncing on top of me, moving up and down, slow and then faster, but it’s not enough. Not for me. Take what’s yours, a dark visitor whispers in my ear. Then I know nothing but the way I want her. The way I’ve always wanted her. The way I deserve to take her, because that’s what I want. Her round bottom is slapping against my pelvis when I yank my tie off from around my neck, and reach for her wrists. I bind them at her back, a smile curving my mouth. Yes, this is what you desire…the darkness purrs. This is what you crave… My cock is throbbing with each of her thrusts, as I see her bound for me, and I’m fighting not to blow inside her. She’s pumping her hips, giving me those soft, sweet moans, and I reach for her waist, assisting her, helping her to send us both flying over the edge. Mine to fuck, to own, to command… Because as much as Allie’s innocence delights me, I want to suck in her light and exhale some dark into her. I don’t want soft moans. I want screams from deep within. I want her coming all over my cock because I’m giving her no other choice. I want her to feel me. Every fucking inch of me. I reach up, grasp her head, not caring if I mess her hair up, and press the side of her face against the divider. She’s shouting out her pleasure now when I slap her bottom…once…twice…three times, demanding she move harder, move faster. Her breath hitches. “I’m going to…” “Give me everything,” I growl, slapping her ass again and again. “You’ll give me that, Allie, won’t you?” “God, yes,” she breathes, pumping her hips, faster and faster, because I’m demanding that of her now.

The darkness smiles. I thrust roughly up inside her before she can slap down against me, shocking her into orgasm. Her scream of total loss of control slides across me and her inner walls clamp around me. I’m gritting my teeth as hot sensations are tingling within me. Heat flows like liquid fire down my spine, burning in my sac before my semen is shooting from my cock, and I’m roaring out my release. The next few minutes are a haze, until I hear, “Micah?” I reopen my eyes, seeing I’m pressing her head against the divider forcibly with my hand, but my gaze immediately zeroes in on her bound wrists. A bitter tang fills my mouth, my skin crawling. I drop my hands like she’s burned me, grab the tie, and with two tugs she’s free. I reach for her wrists, rubbing them, seeing the indents from the tight binding. She leans against me, her back to my heaving chest, and she smells so sweet…so good…so perfect. Darius’s warning is screaming in my mind: You honestly think you can walk away from something you have craved—and needed—for over fifteen years? I’d thought I could. My throat tightens and I bow my head, shutting my eyes. Memories of Clara burn in my mind, through the darkness both behind my eyes and in my soul. I can’t allow history to repeat itself. I fucking won’t let it happen. Warm hands suddenly grasp my face, lifting my head, then I’m staring into innocence. “What’s wrong?” she demands. I wrap my hands around Allie’s, craving that this second lasted a lifetime. That the happiness I see on her face now could remain, because deep down, my stomach is churning. “Nothing,” I manage. “That is not the face of nothing.” Her eyes are searching mine, searching for a truth she’ll never find. “What are you thinking about?” “You.” I squeeze her hands on my face. “Always you.” And if I can protect you from me…

Chapter 16

Allie “Allie Parker: half-sister to billionaire Darius Bennett, and the new woman in Micah Holt’s life. We have all the juicy details!” God, I can only imagine what the headlines will say about me in the morning. I begin coming up with a hundred variations of some killer headlines, as Micah pulls me onto the dance floor. Clicking of cameras and bright flashes threaten to blind me and steal the quiet life I’ve been living. Tomorrow morning, the world will know every single thing about me. It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I want him. I want this. Micah’s holding me close against his strong, warm body, and our hips are swaying to the beat of the music coming from the live band set up beside the dance floor. His fingers tightly hold mine, as his other hand sprawls against my exposed back. All eyes in this room are on us. I haven’t been in the spotlight for so long, and my fingers and toes are tingling. Part of me wants to flee. The other— stronger—part won’t step away from him. But the longer we’re dancing, the more I feel like eyes are following me, looking at every flaw, discovering everything about me, and my racing heart begins pumping blood rapidly through my veins. Micah squeezes my hand then, drawing my gaze to him. His eyes are smiling down at me. “Your attention should be right here. On me.” “I feel like I’m being watched at every angle.” I scrunch my nose, wishing I could cover us in a large blanket, hiding us from the watchful eyes. “It’s kinda creepy.” “It’s annoying, I know.” He spins us away from a few women on their camera phones and moves us behind another couple on the dance floor, far away from the flashing lights. One brow arches. “Better?” “Much, thank you.” I lean in, feeling the hard lines of his body, and surrounding myself with his heat. Especially because tonight he feels cold. Distant. I’m not sure what happened to him in the car, but his guards are up now, his expression showing very little. “Dinner was nice, hmm?” I remark, trying to get him out of his thoughts. He angles his head to me and gives a small smile, squeezing my hand in his. “This is better.” Even now, as I stare into his smoky eyes, I know something is breaking him apart inside. I can see it. I can feel it. I want to ask him but somehow I don’t think it’s my place to. At least not yet. He needs to tell me himself and in his own time. My worry must show on my face because he releases a long-suffering sigh while he’s watching me with assessing eyes. “You surprised me tonight,” he eventually says. “Did I?” He nods. “I wasn’t expecting you to enjoy the gala.” “To be honest, I wasn’t sure how I would feel.” I’d walked away from this high-class life, and I had been wondering if tonight would be different, because Micah gave a lot of his money to charities. I

did feel different, but it’s not content or happy; it’s the exact opposite. My stomach knots, dullness forming in my chest, realizing I had a lot of money and I did nothing with it. Tonight everyone had come to support a good cause. Shame weighs on me that I hadn’t done the same, instead of letting my money sit in the bank, pretending it’s not there. I’m following the smooth sway of Micah’s hips, seeing his expression soften when I finish, “It’s a pretty great feeling watching people helping others.” “Yes, it is, and I never really looked at it that way before.” His hand sprawls on my back, pushing a little harder, bringing me closer to him, like he needs me to warm him. “You see the world in a beautiful way—has anyone ever told you that?” “How do I see the world?” I ask, smiling up at him. “You see good in all things.” He pauses, and a deep line forms between his brows. “Maybe even see it in things that don’t deserve it.” My smile washes right off my face. I stop dancing and cup his face, not caring who’s watching us. “Where have you gone tonight?” Out in the Bentley I saw a different man. One I didn’t know. I still see that man now. I had a glimpse of him when I first met Micah at Richardsons, a side of him that seemed hauntingly dark. Sometimes I see that guy again. But now it’s not just a side of Micah, it’s all I see, and it’s scaring me. “I’m here,” he says, leaning into my touch. “No, Micah, you’re not.” He says nothing in response, but I don’t need him to. I see it in his eyes that he’s so far away from me tonight. I don’t know why he’s gone to this dark place. But I know how to bring him back, because that’s an instinctual thing. I stand on my tiptoes, sealing my mouth over his. He needs my touch—I just know it. I need his touch, too. We stop dancing and his hands slide seductively over my face. His hefty erection presses against my stomach and his soft growl weakens my knees. Then I’m no longer controlling the kiss, I’m following, and each slide of his mouth against mine is growing hotter than the one before it. Sometime later, his slow, deep, and gravelly chuckle slides across my lips, raising goosebumps along my arms before he rests his forehead against mine. “I’m going to do something inappropriate if I don’t let you go.” I laugh and understand completely. I’m wet and hot in places that shouldn’t be wet and hot with this many people around us, especially because they have camera phones in their hands. “How about drinks on the balcony, then?” I ask. He steps back, the smolder in his eyes gone just that easily. “I’ll meet you out there.” My chest feels tight, while I watch him striding away, wondering how he can shut off that quickly. I imagine my cheeks are flushed. It makes me wonder more over the secrets that Micah keeps from me; secrets that I know weigh heavy on his soul. I draw in a long breath, knowing I won’t find those answers tonight, and become more aware of my surroundings now. I hastily move in the opposite direction, passing under the grand crystal chandelier, toward the balcony doors. Once I clear the doorway, I inhale the night air and exhale the fluttering in my belly, releasing all the heat Micah conjures. I’m not alone out here, so I find an empty spot off to the side of the balcony, and stare out at the same view I saw on my first date with Micah. Gosh, how much has changed since then.

The relationship with Micah has kinda been a whirlwind, I admit to myself, resting my arms on the balcony, staring up at the twinkling stars. We’ve been up, down, and all over the place. But this relationship is ours, and I wouldn’t change a thing about it. “You make him happy,” a soft voice beside me says. I glance sideways, finding a beautiful blond woman, who’s much taller than me. “Pardon?” I ask. She also rests her arms on the railing, her wineglass dangling over the edge. “Micah seems very happy and comfortable with you.” She offers her perfectly manicured hand with red nail polish on her long fingernails. “I’m Juliet. You’re Allie, right?” I nod, shaking her hand, wondering if this woman is a past girlfriend of Micah’s, and also how she knows my name. I don’t find ire or jealousy in her eyes, so I don’t get my back up. “Well, he makes me happy, too.” “How wonderful for the both of you.” Her smile is genuine, and damn, does it ever sparkle with perfect white teeth. “Since you two are out in public together, your relationship must be serious now.” The second her mouth shuts, I know exactly who she is: a reporter. Why else would she ask such a question or know so much about me? I stare at her and realize the perfect opportunity has presented itself. I could wait for the tabloids to out me to the world. Or I can take control and tell my own story. “Oh, yes, we’re very serious,” I say, feeling damn good to own my life, not fear it. “But I’m sure the better story is that I’m Darius Bennett’s—” “Darius Bennett?” Juliet cuts me off, eyes slowly widening. “How do you know Darius Bennett?” I force my lips shut, a sickening feeling swirling in my stomach. This woman is not a reporter, and I have the distinct feeling that she’s testing me. If I answer right, there’s a secret about Darius she’ll let me in on. “I know him…personally,” is what I decide to say. I watch the way her expression is changing. One second, curious; the next, probing and interested; so I add, “We’re very close.” Juliet’s brow arches. “Just to be clear. Are we talking about the DC’s Darius Bennett?” The DC? is hanging on my tongue. But my instincts pipe up, telling me to play along with her line of questioning. She knows things about my half-brother. And I want to know them, too. “Yes, that Darius Bennett,” I lie breezily. “Interesting,” Juliet comments, then sips her wine, as the light from the patio shows off the slight narrowing of her eyes. “Where did you meet Darius? At his club? Or at Micah’s club, Lace?” Club? I’m trying desperately to catch up with her. Darius never told me he owned a nightclub. Micah didn’t either. “We met at Darius’s club,” is what I reply. Because I want Juliet to fill in the missing blanks. I want to know who the fuck this woman is to Micah and to my half-brother. “Hmm…” she mutters, nibbling on her painted red lip. “I wonder why Micah never told me you were with the DC?” “Well, we all know that Micah isn’t very good at sharing, don’t we?” Juliet laughs softly. “This is true.” I don’t hesitate, my instincts telling me to push on. “Were you ever with Darius?” “Sadly, no, I’ve never had the pleasure of playing with him. But I do hear that he is a very intense and passionate lover.” She turns to fully face me then, raising both brows now. “Is that true?” I nod, afraid if I open my mouth, I’ll vomit on her. Sex? This is about sex? Laughter from behind us reminds me that we’re not alone on this patio. I glance over my shoulder,

seeing a woman with her hand flirtingly on a young man’s arm. God, who are these people? I’m beginning to feel way out of my element when Juliet asks, “Did Darius introduce you to Micah, then?” I swallow the bile in my throat. “Yes.” “I’m surprised a Dominant like Darius wanted to share you, considering Micah’s so enamored with you.” She winks, examining me harder now. “You must be quite a lovely submissive, Allie.” She’s giving me a compliment, and I truly believe Juliet is a nice lady, but I’m absolutely stuck on what she’s said. Dominant. Submissive. Clubs. She doesn’t need to say more. I understand completely. Feeling the world somersaulting around me, I turn my head to stare out at the skyline, trying to find my center. San Francisco has four sex clubs catering to a kinky consensual lifestyle, not that I’ve ever been to one before. We also have the Folsom Street Fair. Even if my parents tried to keep me away from the annual street fair during my younger years, I knew about the kinkier side of sex by the time I was thirteen years old. Now I know the secret Micah’s been keeping. He’s a Dominant. And so is my half-brother. “Juliet.” The low smooth word sends a shiver down my spine. “Hello, Micah.” I can hear the smile in Juliet’s voice. “I introduced myself to your lovely Allie.” I glance over my shoulder at Micah, and I know with one look at his face that Juliet isn’t lying. He’s keeping his distance from me, being unnaturally still, staring into my eyes, undoubtedly fully understanding now that I know his secret. “Please let me explain…” he says, holding two glasses of wine. “Explain what?” I hear Juliet say. I assume she’s staring at me, because she adds in a high concerned voice, “But you said Darius. I thought—” Micah frowns. “Darius is Allie’s brother.” A hesitation. Then, “Micah, I’m so sorry—” “This isn’t your fault. I did this,” he says to her, even though he’s looking at me. “Please leave us.” In my peripheral vision, Juliet strides away, and her long dress flicks at my bare ankle. “Tell me this isn’t true,” I say, gripping the balcony’s railing. A pause. Then, “Allie…” “Tell me,” I shout. He’s locking up his emotions, tight. “Yes, it’s true.” “All of it?” The club, the submissives, this other life? “Yes” is all he replies. I can’t seem to move or say anything. It’s not the kinky sex he’s into that bothers me, it’s the pretending to be something he’s not that’s dropping the ground out from under me. Sure, I knew Micah had secrets, which is why I took it slow with him, never completely trusting him. But I didn’t think that those secrets could hurt me. I thought they had something do with his past, his demons. “I don’t even know you,” I whisper my pain. Micah flinches, his knuckles going white against the glasses. “You are the only one who knows me.”

I shake my head, needing to cleanse myself of the deceptions. Micah shouts my name, and I hear glass shattering as I turn and run. I ignore the people staring at me, all becoming a blur as I run faster, into the lobby and out the front door. A cab is waiting there, and I lurch into it. “Go,” I yell at the driver, slamming the car ’s door behind me. I glance out the window as the driver takes off, seeing Micah running out of the hotel and after the cab. I shut my teary eyes, realizing this is the second time Micah has made me cry in a cab. Only this one hurt more.

Micah The house is quiet when I arrive home after a near seven-hour flight from Boston. I’m still on edge since receiving the urgent phone call from my father’s secretary to come home right away. The fact that my father arranged for a private jet to bring me home only tells me something is very wrong. The light is spilling out from the sitting room and I follow the warm glow forward, until I enter the room. I take in the three people in there and all the blood rushing through my veins begins to cool. “What’s going on here?” I manage. My father turns around from staring at the fireplace, watching the flames dance about. The iciest black eyes greet mine. “Good. You’re home. Now we can deal with this.” Deal with what? I’m wondering, but instead of asking, I focus on the only woman in the room. Clara’s head is bowed as she sits on the couch, beside her father, who’s glaring at me. “What’s going on here?” I repeat, needing answers, and needing them now. “What’s going on,” my father says, stepping away from the fireplace, turning to face me, “is you’re being blackmailed.” My head is spinning to understand, but then Clara looks at me, and I know exactly why they’re here. The numb expression I see on her face, matched with the vindictiveness I see on her father’s tells me everything. “What have you done?” I ask her. Her voice trembles. “Micah, I’m—” “Not saying a word to him.” Her father shoots to his feet, holding my stare, as if I dare look at her again he’ll take me down with a single punch. “You”—he says the latter like I’m a disease about to poison him—“will only speak to me.” I realize I should’ve expected this. Clara told me not long ago that she thought her father was having financial trouble, and my father once warned me to stay away from Clara. Her father had a reputation of being a shady businessman. But of course that warning didn’t keep me away from her. In fact, my father’s disapproval drew me more to her. I keep the thought to myself, as my father puffs out his chest, being his intimidating self. “There’s nothing more to discuss.” He moves closer to me, pressing his hands against the back of the chair. I see his white knuckles, which tells me the amount of strength it’s taking him to control himself. “Learn this lesson well, son. Your secrets are for sale. I suggest you keep them to yourself.” I glance at Clara, incredulous. Even if I believe her father would do this to me, I can’t believe she would. “You’re blackmailing me?” “You ruined her life,” her father all but spits at me. “You took an innocent girl for your sadistic games and now you’re fucking going to pay for it.” I see Clara flinch, and I’m forcing myself to keep my chin up, because everything inside me wants to cower away in disgrace, that my father is hearing this. That anyone is hearing this. These are my secrets. And it’s my shame. Clara looks at me again, and then it’s almost as if the other two men in the room disappear, and it’s

just her and me. In that split second, I see that no matter how detrimental this is to me, it’s more so for Clara. I don’t see the life in her eyes I once did. It’s been seven days since I’ve seen her, and in that time of telling her parents the truth about me, and clearly having her crook father go after me for money, she’s ruined herself far more than my secrets ever could. Her soulful eyes are empty. She’s not even crying, but I can tell it’s not because she’s not hurting, it’s because she has no more tears to cry. I did this to her. Me. No one else. “Give him the money,” I order. “Micah,” my father warns. “It’s a million dollars.” “Then I will owe you that million dollars.” I turn to my father and state my own demands. “End this. Now.” My father looks at me with such disgust, but his shame rolls right off me. My father has done enough dealings with the Devil that his judgment means shit to me. I see the tremble of his hands as he takes them off the back of the chair. Then again when he moves to the desk and signs a check and hands it to Clara’s father. Clara stays silent as she passes me, her father pulling her by the arm, but I see the damage. She’s gone. She’s lost now. She loved me, and I destroyed her. Clara’s an angel. She’s not meant to dabble in such darkness like blackmailing the person you love. The second I hear the front door slam shut, I blink away my thoughts, hearing my father saying, “Do whatever you have to straighten yourself out, whether it be a therapist, going to rehab, or whatever. You cannot let a scandal like this happen again. Do you understand me, Micah?” “Perfectly,” I say, staring at the door Clara exited. “You will not dishonor the Holt family name again.” I keep silent, my head spinning, and my soul feeling ice cold as walls begin to build up around the only warmth left inside me. My father snaps, “Micah?” I glance over my shoulder, seeing in his eyes this isn’t about me. It’s about him. His name. His reputation is all he cares about. “My secrets will stay secrets.” “Ensure they do,” is all my father replies. The warm breeze drags me from my thoughts, reminding me that I’m in my suite at the Phoenix, standing on the balcony, staring out at the city lights. I vividly remember the way Clara looked the night she left my house with a check for one million dollars. I have a lot of regrets when it comes to Clara, but my biggest is letting her leave that night with her father. “Thought this would help.” I glance sideways, finding Levi offering me a large glass of scotch. “Thank you.” I accept the glass and take a huge gulp. “Call her, Micah,” he says gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Allie only needs to understand.” I’m guessing Juliet told Levi what happened when I requested he drive her home. Levi knows my secrets, as much as Juliet does. I don’t want to talk about this tonight. Not with Allie. Not with Juliet. Not with anyone. “Good night, Levi.”

“Good night” is all he says before leaving me alone. I don’t even want to think about this. Not with the memory of seeing Allie look at me tonight the way Clara once had. Not with knowing that I had repeated mistakes I’d said I never would. Not when I hurt Allie. Deeply. Again. I lift my glass of scotch to my mouth and down the entire drink, numbing my mind and warming the chill out of my bones. My darkness stole Clara’s light. I can’t let it steal Allie’s, too.

Chapter 17

Allie The next morning, I’m blinded by the bright sun when I reach the newsstand in front of Holt. On the cover of the tabloid magazine Gotcha! is a photo of Micah and me arriving at the charity event last night. He’s not looking at the camera like I am. His focus is me. Regardless of what’s going on between us, his beaming smile makes me melt a little right here on the damn street. But then I look into his smoky blue-gray eyes and his pain is evident and I’m now guessing that has something to do with what Juliet told me last night. My chest feels heavy when I pay the vendor for the magazine and begin flipping through the pages, quickly finding the article about us. Look out, ladies, Micah Holt is madly in love. Our sources tell us that the billionaire and his new girlfriend, Allison Parker, were giving major PDA last night! Warmth floods my face as I note the photo of us kissing on the dance floor. God, Micah looks as hot as he felt. My heart clenches a little seeing the way he’s holding me. His posture is protective— dominating even. Which I guess makes a whole lot of sense now. But then I read what’s written next, and a wave of coldness steals the heat on my face. But could this fairy tale end in disaster? Our sources tells us that the real estate mogul has got himself a forbidden treasure. I read a little more, seeing nothing further written about us, and even flip the page, finding a lipstick advertisement. First, relief settles in, and I’m thanking my lucky stars the tabloids haven’t figured out I’m Darius’s half-sister. That gives me more time to talk to Liv. But then a shiver of worry follows, descending on my spine, and I can’t stop looking at forbidden treasure, written in black ink against the shiny white page. Questions beginning rushing through my mind…Why would the tabloids assume that I’m a forbidden treasure? And what makes me forbidden to Micah? The fact that I’m Darius’s half-sister? I shake the questions from my mind. They don’t even know I’m Darius’s half-sister, so what in the world could that headline be about? The hair on my neck stands up, a warning going off inside me, telling me there’s something off about this. It’s an odd tidbit for them to concentrate on. The beeping of my phone snaps me into the present, reminding me I’m standing on the street, and the vendor is looking at me. I smile quickly at her, grab my cell from my purse, and now my heart leaps into my throat for another reason. Micah’s text. Come see me. I don’t bother firing off a text back to him. I’m beyond ready to see him today. He hadn’t called or texted me last night, or come to see me, which still surprises me a little. But at the same time, I

guessed that meant he needed time to think, like I did, or maybe he was giving me the space he knew I required. And the distance helped. A lot. After I got home, I Googled Lace, but couldn’t find any mention of Micah, confirming the public doesn’t know he owns the club. I can only take that to mean there’s a good reason he keeps this part of himself a secret. A secret that I want to know. Now. Then I spent the next couple hours researching kink, which left my mind working overtime. I realized sometime between when my head hit the pillow and sleep overtook me, I couldn’t make assumptions about Micah. The kink world is huge, and it really depended where he fit into it if we could make this work. Because there wasn’t a hope in hell I’d ever do pony play, or let a guy whip me until bloody or bruised, or humiliate me. I’d run from him last night, too overwhelmed by emotion. Today, after a good sleep and my realizations, I’m ready to get an explanation from Micah. Or I’m hoping to, I acknowledge, as I turn away from the newsstand and enter Holt’s main doors, feeling every pair of eyes turn in my direction. I force my chin up, looking straight ahead, thinking only of Micah. I show my badge to the security guard, then quickly move into the elevator. Using my keycard, I hit the 61 button and then settle into the back, staying out of everyone’s way. I notice the two women in the corner whispering about me like I’m the luckiest woman in the world. I don’t feel like the luckiest woman. I feel like I’m barely treading the rough water, and soon, with very little effort from Micah, I’ll drown. Because now I don’t know my next steps. And even if I take a step, the ground feels unstable. Before, I never would’ve given any man so many chances. Now things are different. Maybe I’ve changed a little, or maybe’s it’s that I care about Micah now. It’s not so easy to walk away. I heave a long sigh to myself, sick of being in my damn head, when it’s only me left in the elevator and I’m nearly at the top floor. The elevator doors open, and my heart is hammering…thump, thump, thump is all I can hear with each step I take. I pass the receptionists at the main desk, taking a right toward Neil at the end of hallway. When I reach him, he smiles at me from behind his desk. “Mr. Holt is waiting for you. Go right in.” I turn to face Micah’s office door, seeing the blinds in his office are drawn, when Neil adds, “Oh, and Allie?” I glance over my shoulder, finding him grinning from ear to ear. “You looked absolutely stunning last night.” “Thanks.” I give him a small smile of gratitude then I face the open door again, forcing my racing heart to slow to a normal beat. I hold the magazine tight in my hands, entering Micah’s office, finding him sitting behind his desk, reading a document set out in front of him. “Before we talk,” I say, raising the magazine, hoping to ease us into the tense conversation ahead of us, “I think you need to look at this—” “Close the door,” he orders. And yes, it’s that, an ice-cold order. I do as he asks, shutting the door tight, fighting against the shake in my hand. “Okay, the door ’s closed,” I say, turning to him. He’s reading the document for a few seconds more, and I know his intention. He’s showing me my place right now. I don’t come first, not anymore. My back stiffens straight as a pencil, when he lifts his

head and leans back in his seat, looking the ever-so-powerful billionaire that he is. Those smoky eyes aren’t smoldering anymore, they’re cold and flinty. “I need your promise that what Juliet told you last night will never be spoken in public.” My chest squeezes, breath all but gone. “Pardon me?” I wait for him to correct himself, but he doesn’t. So I do it for him. “I think what you meant to say is, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything about me. Here’s the explanation that you deserve.” A heavy and thick few seconds of silence slide between us. That’s when I realize I’m looking at a different Micah today. It’s not the Micah I know. It’s not even the Micah I’d seen last night—the man running from his demons. This man is someone I’ve never met before. I decide he’s the Micah the world knows. The billionaire. The playboy. This is the man when Micah’s shields are locked up tight. Then he breaks the silence, arching a brow at me. “That’s what you want me to say?” “Of course it is,” I continue. “What I don’t want is for you to imply you can’t trust me.” I move closer to the chair in front of his desk, grasping the back, steadying myself. “So, yes, I want you to apologize for not telling me the truth, because that’s a really shitty thing to do to someone, then I want you to explain all this so I understand.” “I will never apologize for being myself,” he says, calm and collected. “And there’s nothing to explain. You learned who I truly am last night. There’s nothing else to add.” I blink, shell-shocked by his coldness. “You don’t think I deserve to be told about this other side of your life?” “No.” He draws in a deep breath before he finishes, “I think you deserve to be protected from it.” My hand tightens around the chair, digging into the leather. “You don’t need to protect me from anything.” “You’re wrong.” His eyes ablaze, his voice lowers. “I need to protect you from me.” “Because you like kinky sex,” I fire back, the world spinning a little around me, as I’m trying to find solid ground. “This isn’t making any sense, Micah.” Which is now scaring me, because it’s making me think the kinky sex he’s into is really sadistic stuff. But deep down, I know that can’t be true. I know Micah. The real Micah. He’s not that guy. “Sadly, this doesn’t have to make sense to you,” he says, coldly. “This is my decision. I refuse to take you down this dark path. It won’t end well for you.” “Sir.” I jump at Neil’s voice sounding through the intercom on Micah’s desk. “Mr. Bennett is on line one.” Micah clicks a button on the intercom. “Tell him I’ll be only a moment.” When his finger releases the button, his eyes lift to me again, fingers clasping together loosely on his desk. “I need to take this call.” My lungs are constricting, fighting to find air. I’m realizing, at the worst possible moment, how much I care for Micah. How much I don’t want him to end this between us. How much I want to forgive him for keeping such a big thing about himself a secret, and how much I want to understand why he never told me this. “It’s my brother,” I state, harshly. “Darius can wait.” One deliberate brow slowly arches. “Weren’t you the one who was adamant that you didn’t like when personal life interferes with professional life?”

God, his voice is so cold it shatters me. “Micah, why are you doing this?” His expression is unreadable. There’s nothing there, no emotion at all. “We had a moment and enjoyed it. But that moment ended last night.” “But it didn’t—” “It didn’t what?” “It didn’t end last night, not for me.” He draws in a long-suffering deep breath before addressing me. “I’m not the man you think I am. I forced myself to be this other guy you wanted, to give us a shot, but the charade has to end.” He hesitates, then frowns. “Now I need to take my call. You’re dismissed.” “You’re dismissing me?” I ask in pure disbelief. Everything he’s hurting inside suddenly swells into something different, something raw. This is the guy my mother told me about. This is the guy who doesn’t give a shit about who he hurts and only cares about his own agenda. This is the guy I won’t ever let railroad me. No one—man or otherwise —can make me believe my reality is different than it is, because he doesn’t want to face his issues. Like wildfire attacking air, all of my heavy emotions get sucked away, leaving only fury burning in my chest. “Don’t you dare try to make me believe that what we had was some fairy tale only I imagined and you weren’t the guy I thought you were.” Emotion blazes in his eyes, but coldness sweeps over his face so fast I wonder now if I’m imagining things. “What we had was real. I was there for every second. I felt you, and I know you felt me, too.” He’s staring at me so hard, I’m wondering if I’m breaking through his barriers. But his shields are indestructible today. I realize, as he leans forward and clicks the intercom, he’s completely shut me out. “Miss Parker needs to be shown from my office.” The ground all but drops under me, and the magazine falls from of my hand, landing on the floor. I’m searching my mind to understand why he’s so quick to stop fighting for us, when Neil opens the office door. Micah picks up his phone and turns his back to me. “Darius. What’s up?” I can’t recall leaving Micah’s office or if Neil said anything to me. I can’t even remember returning to the elevator. And I certainly don’t know how I ended up in my office. But then I’m walking through the door, feeling like a ghost floating through time. Liv’s sitting behind her desk. “Good news,” she says. “James sent us some new clients.” She looks away from her monitor to me and her eyes go wide. “Whoa. Are you okay?” “I’m…” I pause, inhale deeply, and then I refuse to let emotion cloud me. “I’m fine.” I want answers. Now. “Can you give me a few minutes?” “Yeah, okay, sure.” She hurries out of our office, shutting the door behind her. I move to my desk, picking up the phone, dialing Darius’s cellphone, hoping he’s ended his call with Micah. Thankfully, he answers on the second ring. “What is the DC?” I bark at him. “How is Micah involved in it? And what the hell are you doing owning a sex club?” A pause. A long pause. Then my half-brother ’s voice turns ice cold. “Take this as the warning it is, little sister. Stay away from things you don’t want to know.” The phone line goes dead.

“Fuck.” I slam my phone down on my desk. Some women might hide under the blankets and cry over their broken hearts. Others might run to the tabloids and burn Micah, spilling the secrets he’s kept hidden. Maybe some women might even tuck their tail beneath their legs, hoping Micah eventually misses them so much, he finally opens his heart to them. Micah should already know better. I’m not that girl. I want answers. And I’m going to get them. — The full moon is glowing in the night sky when I exit the cab with Liv, staring at the sign, O’Keefe’s. When Liv told me what I needed was a girls’ night out to fix my mood, I set the beginnings of my plan in motion, saying we should go to the the popular Irish pub. Micah’s friend Gabe owns this pub, and I’m hoping meeting him will help me understand Micah better. “Come on, girl. Hot Irish men await us.” Liv laughs, grabbing my arm, tugging me forward. I’m not laughing. My head hurts. My thoughts are spiraling out of control. I want to hate Micah. I should hate him for how he treated me today. But I can’t turn off my heart like that. And apparently, my heart wants Micah, even more than I knew. I can’t really recall when I became so sure about him, but clearly I did. Now I can’t look back. Liv keeps her arm linked with mine, leading me into the pub. The second the upbeat folk music flows over me, I exhale deeply. The wave of loud chatter from the crowd around the bar engulfs me. Here, everyone is carefree and happily drunk, and I discover that’s a blissful relief. I give in to the moment when Liv stops by an open space at the bar. I notice a pretty brunette tending to the customers, as well as a drop-dead gorgeous guy, complete with hazel bedroom eyes. Tall and fit, around Micah’s age. I’m wondering if this could be Gabe. I bite my lip, sorting through the thousand questions I want to ask him, and stay behind Liv as she orders us drinks. People are everywhere, either dancing at the back with the band, or standing around the bar, drinking their night away. The folk band is playing a catchy beat and my foot begins to tap along with the drums. “Hello.” I turn toward the deep, smooth voice, spotting an athletic man in his late twenties. His emerald green eyes have a slight angle and his smile holds charm. But he’s not Micah, my heart reminds me. “Hi,” I say. “I’m Brock.” He offers his hand. “And you are?” I return his handshake. “Allie.” “Hi there, Allie.” He’s still smiling at me when Liv sidles up and offers the crisp pint of beer. She glances at me and then spies Brock, a gleam in her eyes. She finishes with a totally fake serious look. “I should not have had those two glasses of water before we came. I’ll be right back.” I chuckle at her. Such lies she tells.

Even Brock grins at Liv as she scurries off. When she fades into the crowd, he asks me, “So, Allie, what do you do?” I move toward the small table in front of me and place my beer on top. Talking to Brock will give me time to wait for Gabe to take a break, and then I can introduce myself and ask what I need to—or at least that’s my plan. “I’m a real estate agent,” I say to Brock as he settles in close beside me. “How about you?” “Corporate lawyer.” He gives a playful wink. “Totally boring stuff and not worth talking about.” I laugh, not blind to his charming personality. He’s got the looks too, seemingly cut right out of a GQ advertisement. I begin listening to him as he’s easily talking, and I’m answering his questions whenever he asks. I smile a lot, and I’m noticing how he likes to touch my arm when I laugh at something he says. He seems like a nice guy, exactly someone I would’ve dated before. A pang hits my chest hard, while the subject switches to sports. As cute as Brock is, he’s not the guy I want to flirt with. Which I guess is kinda surprising, because the guy I want can’t be more wrong for me. Isn’t this the lesson my mother taught me: don’t date that guy, the one every girl knows will hurt you in the end. Micah has hurt me more than once, and yet it feels entirely wrong to give up on him. It’s like we’re magnets, and I’m drawn to him so intensely that I can’t turn away. Brock obviously notes my mood change, stroking my arm. “Is everything okay?” “Yes. Sorry.” I smile, trying to enjoy the moment and get to know a guy who doesn’t seem to carry a whole suitcase of baggage. But somehow this guy cannot possibly compete with Micah. Logically, I know I shouldn’t want Micah. But he stirs something inside me, a need for him that no other man ever has before. I realize that I can’t refuse his grip on me, because, from day one, it’s never been a choice. It’s an irrefutable fact. I blink out of my thoughts, hearing the loud music again, when Liv suddenly catches my eye. She’s standing a few feet away, near the washrooms, yelling something at me I can’t hear over the music. But then I do understand, because I see Micah storming by Liv and shoving himself into the small space between Brock and me. “Do not touch her again,” Micah slurs, lurching into Brock’s face. “Whoa, buddy.” Brock’s forced to take a step back, raising his hands in surrender. “Take it easy.” Everything seems to be moving in slow motion, when I hear someone shout, “Shit,” behind me. I glance over my shoulder, just as the bartender jumps over the bar, charging toward us, and shoving his way in between Micah and Brock. He grins over Micah’s shoulder at me. “Allie, I presume?” I nod. “Gabe?” He mirrors my nod, then gently pushes on Micah’s chest, moving me out of the way. “You’ll regret this tomorrow. Let’s go.” “Get your fucking hands off me, Gabe.” Micah’s shaking off his friend, practically snarling at Brock. “He touched her. No one touches her.” Why not? screams in my mind. You pushed me away! my heart roars. Gabe grabs Micah’s arms, pushing harder now, and the vein protruding from his forehead tells me Gabe’s struggling to keep Micah back. For whatever reason, that snaps me into focus. Micah’s not some random guy in a bar fight. He’d end up on TMZ, and if he hit Brock, this would end badly, with a lawsuit.

Emotions are spiraling through me when I place my hand on Micah’s back, smelling the whisky reeking from him, and feeling him quivering with an intensity I hadn’t before experienced. All of his coiled power is dangerously unleashed. “Micah,” I say, softly. He turns to me and I gasp at the flatness in his eyes. I don’t know this guy. He’s never been so out of control or so reckless. He’s never looked so dead inside or so lost. “You need to go,” I tell him gently, bringing him back to reason. His eyes glaze over, and I realize he’s not even seeing me. His demons aren’t showing themselves. They’ve overpowered him. My heart is reaching for his, no matter that he’s the reason it’s hurting. “We’re leaving. Right now.” I grab the hem of his T-shirt, tugging him forward. I’m surprised that he doesn’t fight me, following easily. But that tells me a lot. It shows me that even when he’s lost, I can bring him back to me. The moment we reach outside, and the cooler air brushes across my heated face, I notice the Bentley squealing to a stop in front of us. Levi jumps out of the car, takes one look at Micah, and snorts, “In fine form tonight, I see.” Micah stumbles, weaving from side to side. “Fucking kill him…” I’m reeling as Gabe and Levi deposit Micah into the backseat of the Bentley. My heart is clenching as I take one last look at him, slumped over. God, he looks so broken that it breaks me too. Seeing him now, like this, and his jealousy, I know there’s something deeper he’s burying inside of him. Something that should scare me. But something that doesn’t. When I go to shut the door, Gabe squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t give up on him,” he says. “You know what?” I drawl in exasperation. “Today, Micah ended things with me. Now he’s acting like this.” I turn to face Gabe, folding my arms. “I’m so damn sick of all the things I don’t know, so how about you tell me what the hell is going on with him?” Gabe pauses, his eyes searching mine. “He never told you.” “He never told me what?” Gabe thrusts a hand through his hair, shifting from foot to foot repeatedly, until he curses. “I can’t keep watching him punish himself.” He places both hands on my shoulders, turning me to face him, looking me directly in the eye. “Tonight I gave him a bottle of whisky. I left him alone for fifteen minutes and I came back to an empty bottle. Then I endured listening to him talking of how he doesn’t deserve you.” Gabe leans in closer, and I get a whiff of his woodsy cologne when he adds, “What Juliet told you the other night he thinks will ruin you. That he will ruin you. It happened to him before. He fears it will happen again.” First, I can’t believe what Gabe is admitting. Clearly this DC, or whatever it is, is something Gabe is also involved in, because how in the hell would he know about Juliet? Second, I feel like I’m grasping at thin air, trying to understand what he’s talking about. “Ruin me how? What happened before?” “There’s more to his past than I’m sure he’s told you. And I know that because he never tells anyone about it.” He glances at Micah in the backseat, who’s now completely passed out and snoring softly. “Did Micah tell you why he and Clara broke up?” “He said things just didn’t work out.” Gabe glances from left to right, and even I notice the busy street around us before he adds, “What

Juliet told you about Micah. That thing he is drawn to. Clara found that out about him too, and ended the relationship.” I’m staring at Gabe, waiting for him to say something more, but he doesn’t comment further, telling me that is the reason they broke up. I’m admitting to myself now that maybe Micah is really sadistic, when Gabe continues, “In her pain and sadness over the breakup, and maybe even to get back at Micah, Clara told her father about Micah’s…preferences. Her corrupt father went to Micah’s dad and blackmailed them.” My stomach begins churning. “What did Micah do?” “Asked his father to pay the money.” The distaste toward Micah’s dad burns in Gabe’s eyes, as does the affection he has for Micah. “The first million Micah made he gave to his father to pay back his debt.” I swallow, disbelieving what I’m hearing. “And his father took it?” Gabe nods. I grasp my middle, trying to absorb all this. Micah’s father took his son’s money instead of simply protecting him. Bile rises in my throat. Though I’m now understanding why when Micah thought he’d become his dad it bothered him so much. His father did some really terrible things. But Micah’s nothing like him, I don’t doubt that at all. And as much as I’m led to believe that Micah is this sadistic, twisted guy, I don’t see it. I shut my eyes, fighting off the chill inside. I’m beginning to see that Micah’s secrets aren’t to hide, but to protect himself, because those he loved cut him deeply. That perception is changing how I see him, opening my eyes in a way they weren’t open before. He’s not keeping secrets from me to hurt me. He fears his secrets. He’s protecting me from them. “I’ve never seen him like I saw him tonight,” Gabe says, returning my attention to him. “He’s broken. And Micah never breaks.” His head tilts, and he’s regarding me deeply. “So, Allie, tell me, what do you think that means?” I glance at Micah, passed out in the backseat, knowing exactly what that means. I have the power to destroy his demons, because with me, they come out fighting strong, knowing I can banish them. But I also know I can’t allow him to hurt me in the process, which he can so very easily do. He has to choose us. I can’t do that for him. I heave a long sigh, shutting the door, knowing I won’t figure this out right now. The Bentley’s lights fade into the night and I feel every brush of air against my skin. I hear every loud bang of my heart. I feel like I’m floating, lost in a reality that’s mine, yet isn’t. “You never answered me.” I turn to Gabe, finding tight concern around the corners of his eyes. “Yes, I know exactly what that means. He needs me,” is the only reply I’m prepared to give now. I see Micah’s demons. I’m beginning to understand why they’re there. The only question that remains: Am I strong enough to fight them?

Chapter 18

Micah The next morning, I exit the en suite bathroom, wrapping a towel around my waist. Cold water drips from my hair down the side of my cheek, but the coolness is easing the heat of my flesh. Everything’s foggy this morning and my stomach’s weak. I’m struggling to remember what happened last night. So far I’ve only gotten quick flashes of being at the pub and of Allie showing up, but the rest seems stuck behind a haze I can’t break through. My mouth is pasty and my feet are dragging against the hardwood floor as I move into the walk-in closet. I dry my hair, hanging the towel over the door, torn between what I want and what I thought I had to do to protect Allie. I realize, as I grab a pair of black workout pants, I don’t know how to live with her. But as I step into my pants, I acknowledge that I’m crashing without her. I reach for a gray T-shirt in the drawer, and after dressing, a sudden flash of Allie’s smile reminds me of the fight I nearly got into last night. Her smile that can never lose its warmth, and altered my life the moment I set eyes on her, feels like it belongs to me. When she unleashed it on someone else, and that guy touched her arm, the final strands of my control vanished. My skin burns red-hot as I exit the closet to fetch a drink of water, when I find Levi standing in the doorway, holding a mug in one hand and painkillers in the other. “I called Holt to let Neil know you were taking a sick day,” he says. “Thank you,” I say, accepting the pills. “That should help the headache.” He hands me the mug. “This will kill your hangover altogether. It’s a family recipe.” I sniff the brown, thick liquid. “What is it?” “Better that you don’t know.” Levi smiles, mischievously. “Just drink.” I toss the pills into my mouth and chase them back with the hot drink. The thick-as-molasses liquid makes it to my stomach before I’m coughing. “Cures a hangover by killing the person, right?” Levi chuckles. “There will always be a punishment for getting completely shit-faced.” I force back another sip, recalling Levi depositing me into my bed last night. Which explains why I woke up this morning fully clothed. I lower the mug from my mouth, when Levi’s eyes, wise as always, zero on me. “Do you remember seeing Allie?” “Vaguely.” I move to the four-poster bed, leaning against the dark wood column. “Did I…” “Make an ass of yourself?” I nod. “Totally,” Levi states, dryly, then he gives a half shrug. “Luckily for you, she seemed more concerned than annoyed with you.” “I would expect nothing less from her.” That’s how Allie cares for people. I’m seeing it more and more now. She gives second, third, and fourth chances, yet somehow holds her strength when she does. Her loving someone right isn’t her weakness; it’s her gift.

An ache begins to thump behind my eyes. No doubt the pains from my hangover. Confusion squeezes my mind. Her gift is blurring the lines I’ve drawn. I want to go to her. Fuck, I want to hold her tight, never allowing anyone else to touch something so pure and beautiful. But the truth is, the person most capable of harming her is me. It’s a charade that has to end. I want to be someone different with her. I wish I could be. But the darkness clawing inside me reminds me that I’ll never be the gentle, sweet, loving guy she deserves. It’s not in my DNA. I force myself to take bigger sips of the drink to survive it, doing my best to ignore the bitter aftertaste. A bead of sweat slides down my cheek and my chest is tingling, but I’m not sure if that’s from the booze leaving my body, the concoction Levi is feeding me, or my shame over Allie. Now I remember her helping me exit the bar. She stood by me. Even after how cold I’d been to her, she’d been there when I needed her. I don’t know this kind of love. It’s supportive. It’s unconditional. It’s kind. But I also know that it does have a limit, and once Allie’s affection is gone, it will be gone forever. My flesh itches and crawls. Last night, the booze made everything quiet. Now a loud roar of uncertainty is screaming in my mind. “Looks like you’ve got some more color now,” says Levi, breaking into my thoughts. “Which is good, since there’s someone waiting for you in the library.” “Who?” I push off the end of the bed, approaching Levi. “Darius Bennett.” I stretch my neck, releasing the tension filling my muscles. Darius is the last person I want to see, but he’s the exact man I knew I’d wake to this morning. I hurt Allie. I have to answer for it. I down the remainder of the liquid in one painful gulp, realizing the world is a little straighter and my head is clearer. “You should bottle that stuff and sell it,” I tell Levi, handing him the mug. “Nah, it’d never be FDA approved.” His eyebrows pinch together, lips press tight, and I can tell he has more to say that isn’t about his hangover remedy. I simply don’t want to hear it, moving to the mirror on the wall, a thousand-pound weight on my chest. The air is heavy and thick as I give my hair a quick style, hearing no sounds around me. I’ve always handled the silence before. Now it unnerves me. Ghosts are haunting me, and I’m alone in this house I can’t stand. “Don’t fuck it up.” I glance over my shoulder, finding Levi’s gaze unfocused. My lips part, but he raises his hands, stopping me. “You’re going to listen to what I have to say.” The glare he’s giving me leaves no room for argument, and I begrudgingly shut my mouth as he goes on. “In the time I’ve seen you with Allie, for even the fleeting moment you had together, I thought…” His voice cracks, eyes warm. “I thought I had seen the man you might have been if your mother never passed away. You were happy. Truly content. Allie is the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” The warmth leaves his eyes; the strength returning just that easily. “It’s time to start living in the shadow of your mother, not in what your father tried to make you.” He slaps his hand against the doorframe before addressing me again. “Stop working all the time. You’re rich enough. Get married. Have a couple of kids. Make some goddamn memories to warm up this fucking cold and empty house. Hear what I’m saying, because you won’t recover from her.” He points his finger at me, glaring. “Don’t fuck it up.” A wave of heat storms against me and I blink, finding Levi gone. My spinning head is now

somersaulting around me and I’ve never wanted out of my skin so badly. Levi’s words touch something inside of me that I don’t know. I can’t even sort through how they’ve affected me. Each step I take from the bedroom sends me spiraling deeper into the unknown. I’m not sure what to do next, or how I should act, all I know is I need to face the man waiting for me downstairs. My throat is so damn tight as I’m heading down the curved staircase, making my way to the library. The only sound is of my bare feet tapping against the floor as I enter the rectangular room, discovering Darius standing near the bay window. Books, which all had belonged to my mother, line the walls. She’d been a faithful reader during her life, and my father never changed this room after she died. I hadn’t either. She picked the furniture and she touched every book, only reminding me how even if the room never changed, my life had taken a 360-degree turn. Once, the house had been full of love, happiness, and laughter. Then the ghosts moved in and so did the chill in the air. The floorboards creak beneath my foot, and Darius turns to me. His gaze rakes me from head to toe before his eyebrows lift. “You look a step away from walking into your grave.” “I feel like I’ve already taken the final step in.” I move to the faded leather wingback chair and drop into it, preparing myself for Darius’s lashing. He leaves the window and sits in the seat opposite me, near the black leather chaise my mother used to read on. “Allison stopped by my house this morning.” I can only imagine what she told him. I have to force my shoulders not to hunch when he adds, “Explain to me what happened between you.” “She knows the truth” is all I have to say. He frowns. “You told her everything?” “I didn’t tell her anything. Juliet mistakenly told her”—I pause, gritting my teeth—“what we do.” Darius holds my stare for a few seconds then his expression softens. “When Allison spoke to me this morning, I didn’t get the feeling that she’s upset with you. Sad, yes. Angry, no.” “It’s a moot point,” I shoot back at him, thrusting a hand through my damp hair. “This is better for her in the long run. And you know it.” Silence stretches between us, Darius’s stern eyes on mine. Until he shakes his head with a dry laugh. “I told you if you hurt her I would lay you out.” I bow my head, staring at my bare feet, listening to Darius continue. “But I think you’re beating yourself up enough already.” He rises, moving to my side, cupping my shoulder. “Some advice on my sister.” I raise my head, stunned by his warm regard. “She loves in a way that exceeds reason. Her heart has room for so much. But she deserves a man who honors that about her, not fears it.” I freeze at his words, wondering why he’s not pounding me into the ground, when he adds, “One chance. That’s all you get to love someone in the best way you can. And who knows for how long you’ll be given that right.” The strain on his face and the tight nature of his mouth leave me with the feeling he’s speaking from experience. “You think that you’re protecting her from you, because you’re afraid she can’t accept you and you’ll hurt her, but you can choose another way. You can choose to make her happy.” He squeezes my shoulder again, and warmth seeps from his touch. “I have walked the path you walk now. I have met this exact crossroad.” His sigh speaks of a pain I understand on a deep level, and I see that darkness in the depth of his eyes, too. “Believe me, the torment you feel now will be incomparable to the torment you’ll feel when you regret her.” He steps back and pulls two pieces of paper from his pocket, handing them to me.

I’m fighting the tremble of my hand when I watch him leave, and when I look down at the papers in my hands, I lose that battle. The name in the corner of the check gets my attention first: Allison Parker. The million-dollar amount gifted to Holt’s Hope also isn’t lost to me. I open the folded sticky note around the check, and with Levi’s and Darius’s advice on my mind, everything I know—everything I am—shatters, breaking apart, until my eyes grow wet as I read Allie’s handwriting. This is who you are. Choose us. Don’t make me wait too long. Love, Allie

Allie Under the starry sky, I’m staring at the glowing sign, Lace, above the doorway at the local historic armory in the Mission District. From what I learned on Lace’s website, the location is also rented by a porn company that shoots its films here. So not only is the public allowed to come in and have tours of the sets, but at night the decorated theme rooms are used by the members of Lace, who partake in all types of sexual fantasies. I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing here, I only know there’s still something I don’t know about Micah, and it feels like I’ll find those answers here. Done with sitting around and waiting for him to come to his senses, I approach the bouncer, standing in front of the wrought-iron door. His tailored suit tells me this club is upper-class and not some shady place tucked away in a back alley. When I reach the wide-shouldered, dark-haired bouncer, he gives me a very thorough once-over before his amused eyes lift to mine. “I take it you want a tour?” Part of me wants to be insulted that I look so innocent I couldn’t possibly be a member. The other part of me knows that within these walls, surrounded by these uninhibited people, I imagine I’m nearly virgin-like in their eyes. “I’ll start with a tour,” I tell him. He smirks, dark eyes roaming me again from head to toe. “You’re interested in possibly gaining membership, then?” “Possibly.” I smile back, not letting this tough, confident guy knock me off my game. If I need to become a member to get a view of the kinky sex that Micah enjoys, then that’s what I’m going to do. Eyes on me, the bouncer taps a button on his earbud then says, “Code 120.” I assume Code 120 is short form for single girl who shouldn’t be here. We begin having a staring contest as the seconds draw on, and I’m feeling the rising heat in my face, because this guy knows, and I know, I’m in way over my head here, but then I notice something odd. The camera lens over the guy’s shoulder is zooming in on me. “Copy,” the bouncer says, snapping my focus to his scruffy face. He steps back, folding his arms, being quite the commanding presence. “Wait right here a moment.” “Okay.” I force myself not to gulp. Awkward seconds tick by, while I refuse to lose the staring contest. Then the main door swings open, and I cannot stop the widening of my eyes as Juliet comes rushing out, the door slamming shut behind her. “You should not be here.” She grasps my arm, yanking me away from main entrance. Once we’re past the corner, she swings around to face me and her glare is as fierce as her voice is firm. “What were you thinking? What if you were photographed?” She’s glancing around, looking for flashes of lights, I assume, before her glare returns to me. “You must leave. Now.” “I wasn’t followed. Believe me, I checked.” I cross my arms, forcing my mind quiet and standing strong. “And well, you shouldn’t have told me what you did the other night, so we both don’t seem to listen to Micah very well, do we?” She’s studying me hard before she slowly begins to smile. “Micah was right. I do like you.” The

tightness leaves the corners of her eyes with her long exhale, and she places one hand on her tiny waist. “Fine. What do you want? And be quick about it.” The streetlight is giving her skin a warm glow, and I guess I’m a little surprised to see her dressed in a modest cherry-red blouse and black A-line skirt, considering the place she came out of. “I want a tour of the club.” “Why?” I stay quiet while a couple passes us on the street and enters the club before shrugging at her. “Because I have a thousand things running through my mind about what all this is”—I wave at the club—“all about. I, for one, want to sleep tonight, and until I know that Micah doesn’t want to jab me with some cattle prod, that will never happen.” Her mouth twitches. “A cattle prod?” “It does fall under the kinky sex umbrella.” “It does,” she agrees, “but that’s not Micah’s particular brand of kink.” I give a firm nod. “Which is exactly why I’m here.” She pauses, watching me closely again. “You want to understand him?” “I do.” She visibly exhales, lowering her hand from her hip. “I cannot let you go inside the club. Micah would never forgive me.” I sigh in frustration, but can’t fault her. In fact, I kinda like her showing loyalty to Micah. It makes me like her, regardless that I know she’s slept with him. “Okay, then you can do one better. Tell me what you do for him.” Her brows shoot up. “You want to hear about my experiences of having sex with Micah?” “Not in detail, of course,” I correct her, nearly gagging on her pretty shoes. Micah’s not the only one who can be a top-notch professional. Tonight I have on my get-the-job-done hat. “But I want to understand the man he’s been with you.” I don’t even know why, not truly. I only know I need these answers. A long second of silence passes before she addresses me again. “We’re not doing this standing on the street.” She spins on her heels, heading in the opposite direction. “Come on, let’s grab a coffee.” I blink in surprise that she’s actually going to talk to me, and follow her as she moves toward the Starbucks down the street. But as we get closer to the coffee shop, I realize, thinking all this over now, that Juliet’s another person in the short list of people who love Micah and want him to be happy. It’s funny in a way that everyone is doing all they can to keep me in Micah’s life, but he’s pushing me away. I’m not even pretending to understand the why’s of Micah’s mind. Right now I’m trying to figure out what I don’t know first. Baby steps, I remind myself as we enter the small Starbucks, a handful of people sitting at the tables. Within only a few short minutes, Juliet has a cappuccino and I have a strawberry smoothie, and we’re sitting at the corner table by the big window, away from listening ears. The folk song playing through the speakers above us reminds me of the one that band was playing at O’Keefe’s that night. While I stir the straw in my drink, Juliet takes a sip of her coffee. “All right,” she finally says, wiping the foam off her top lip. “What do you want to know?” A thousand questions rush through my mind. I stick to the most important. The ones I need to know,

letting go of the questions that don’t really matter in the long run. “Does Micah go to his club?” Because if he’d been sleeping with other women while with me, then that’s a done deal. I’d leave this seat right now and never look back. “No,” she replies, softly, and I sigh in relief as she lowers the mug to the saucer. “He never has, and that’s not who he is.” “Then who is he?” She pauses to really consider my question. “He’s a complicated man, one I haven’t completely figured out yet. He’s not a Dominant in the sense where he needs a submissive woman to fulfill him. He likes to hold the power but it’s a natural thing for him, more than it’s something he practices for a sexual fantasy.” She waits for the employee cleaning the table across from ours to leave before adding, “In regard to kink, I’d say he lingers on the lighter side. So, no, you don’t have to worry about cattle prods.” “Dog cages?” I inquire. “No.” “Beatings?” “No.” “Blood?” She laughs, shaking her head at me. “You’re safe. He’s what we like to call a Gentleman Dom.” “Which is?” “Exactly what it sounds like. A perfect gentleman who has dominant traits, which is what Micah is. He’s gentle when you need that from him, but he’s rough, more controlling, more dominant, when he needs that for himself.” I consider what she’s told me, stirring my straw in a large circle within the plastic cup. Something doesn’t add up. “Explain this to me, then: if he’s not into something more extreme, then why is he so worried about this getting out?” “That’s been something I’ve wondered myself,” Juliet explains, her hands hugging her mug. “His desires aren’t as dark as he believes them to be. I think that somewhere along the line things got confused for him. His desires are something he runs from and something he fights. The only time we were together was when it became too much to bear and he needed to calm this thing he fights inside of him.” “You’re saying that kinky sex isn’t fun for him?” I ask, confused. “Like, he hates it?” She nods slowly. “I’ve seen the look in his eyes after. It’s not something he’s proud of. It’s not something he enjoys, but it’s definitely something he needs, and that’s what he is aware of.” I frown. “If he doesn’t like kink, then why would he need to keep doing it?” “Why does anyone need anything?” she asks with a soft laugh. “It’s simply a part of who he is, what his body wants, and what his soul craves.” I’m not sure why that registers so intensely with me, but it does. Maybe it’s a new way of seeing Micah or maybe I’m simply accepting him now. But Juliet’s words make me realize that this is yet another thing that Micah hasn’t been able to accept about himself, because people he loved told him he couldn’t. “What else do you think his soul craves?” “You.” She gives me a soft smile, and her affection for Micah warms her expression. “But I don’t think his soul simply craves you, I think you’re precisely what his soul needs, Allie.”

Chapter 19

Allie Please come to the carnival. No emails. No texts. Micah didn’t call all day yesterday…until now, the following evening, nearly thirty-three hours after Darius gave him my donation to Holt’s Hope. God, I wanted to call him or go see him in his office all day today. But I couldn’t do this for him. I wouldn’t. He had to pick us. I park my car in the open spot next to rows of cars near the entrance, trying to decrypt his message. Yes, I expected my note would affect him, especially the don’t make me wait too long, because that’s what his note once said to me. He fought for me. Now I was fighting for him. I hoped that sparked something inside of him, showing him I’m not the same person as Clara. But the carnival is the last place I thought he’d request my attendance. My heart begins banging against the walls of my chest when I exit the car and hurry through the main gate, noticing an empty ticket booth. I need to get to him. It’s an energy pulling me forward. Almost like a part of myself is missing and I’ve got to find it or I’m going to fall down the rabbit hole and be lost forever. The sun is beginning to set, the sky turning beautiful pinks, purples, and oranges, and I’m searching for the man on my mind, heading down the pathway toward the carnival. Loud young voices and laughter carry across the night air. The carnival is bustling and the crowd of children and grown-ups are rushing by me in a blur, until I finally recognize someone. Liv’s standing near the ring toss, with a huge grin on her face. “Well, look at who’s finally arrived,” she drawls when I reach her. “What’s going on?” I scan the crowd, recognizing other people now, too. Employees from Holt are here, as well as some of the children I’d met at Holt’s Day. Nose scrunching, I turn to her. “What is this?” “This,” says Liv, waving out at the carnival, “is what your donation to Holt’s Hope did. Micah bought out the carnival for the night, and in your honor opened it to Holt employees and their families, as well as the kids in his charity.” She gestures toward the photographers moving around the crowd and taking shots. “Expect to be mentioned in every magazine tomorrow.” “A good reason to be in the tabloids,” I decide, instantly realizing what Micah’s done. My secret is exposed, yes. But it’s exposed in the best possible light. He’s showing the world something I love, and somehow that makes me love it more. “A perfect reason, actually,” I finish. Liv agrees with a nod. “Yup, and then there’s this little thing we also need to discuss.” She holds up the tabloid magazine Gotcha!, which shows a picture of Micah and me dancing together, with the headline: Billionaires unite. Micah Holt’s mystery woman is none other than Darius Bennett’s halfsister. I cringe and glance into her eyes, watching them narrow. “So, your half-brother is Darius Bennett, huh?” I nod. “And you’re rich?” I expect a clench of my chest or my palms to grow sweaty, but that’s not what happens. I breathe a

sigh of relief that the truth is finally out there. It’s like a million-pound weight is off my shoulders. The tabloids, the public eye, the scrutiny, I realize now I’m okay with all of this. Heck, I love my life and I’m proud of it, because it’s mine. I half shrug and grin. “Maybe a little rich.” “A little?” Liv scoffs, smacking my arm with the magazine. “Giving a million dollars away to a charity makes you a helluva rich woman.” “Ouch. Okay.” I rub my arm, soothing away the sting. “I’m a lot rich.” Her hands go to her hips, glare very much there, as the blue and green lights from the ring toss dance across her face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I…” I take a deep breath and then I let the truth out. “Please don’t be mad. It’s not because I don’t love or trust you. It’s my insecurity. I wanted you to see me, not the money.” Liv frowns. “You thought I would be after your money?” “No. No, of course not.” Sometimes our biggest fears are self-made—I’m beginning to realize by Liv’s scowl, instead of glassy, money-hungry eyes, that I made a big mistake. “But people change when they know about the money. They don’t see me anymore; it overshadows who I am. And, well, when we became friends, and you didn’t know about Darius and everything, it was nice, you know. You were the first new friend I had in a long time that actually saw me and wanted nothing from me but my time.” Liv glares for a few seconds longer before she throws herself at me, wrapping me in a tight hug. “You know I adore you to pieces and love everything about you.” She pauses, stepping back, then laughs softly. “Well, maybe I would’ve expected a seriously nice Christmas present for being the best assistant ever.” “Santa will do better. Promise,” I reply, even though I know she’s joking. But maybe it’s time to spoil Liv with some new Louis Vuitton high heels. Because if I’ve learned anything from all this, it’s that living in the past gets you nowhere but remaining in the shadows of pain, instead of seeing things standing right in front of you. I can’t live like that anymore. I won’t. Loud, squealing children catch my attention and I glance up at the Ferris wheel. Hands are waving in excitement and smiling faces is all that I see. My heart warms, feeling good about this. Hell, feeling good about me. I refuse to regret not having done this sooner. But I’m going to make sure I do it again…and again…until the money runs out. “Oh, shit, I almost forgot,” Liv quips, snapping my attention to her. “There is a reason that I’m standing here waiting for you. It’s not only to interrogate you.” She gives me her classic Liv smirk, waggling her eyebrows at me. “Micah asked me to tell you to meet him where you were before.” “Did he?” “Oh, yeah, he surely did, and he’s all focused and serious, with a special little twinkle in his eye.” She steps in behind me and pushes me forward. “Go. A hunky billionaire is waiting for you, so get that fine ass of yours over there.” I chuckle, striding off and wiggling my hips, sending Liv into a fit of laughter. I absorb the happiness in the air, and it feels tangible as I pass the ringing of the Tilt-a-Whirl. I feel that pull again with each step, needing to get toward only one place, toward one person, as I’m heading down the same path Micah and I walked before. It feels like a lifetime has passed since that first night out

together. And maybe, in a way, a lifetime has gone by, because I know I’m not the same women I was when I first walked this path with Micah. I round the corner, seeing the sparkling lights of the Golden Gate Bridge. Then I find him. The strongest, most broken man I’ve ever known. But I realize he’s not the only broken one. We’ve both come from pasts that could’ve broken us completely, and yet I can’t help but feel that they somehow had to happen, to make us. That without the one side, the other wouldn’t have been fulfilled. It makes me think that life is this big circle that’s been spinning in the wrong direction for a while, and right now, in this moment, our lives are going to correct themselves. I stop a few feet away from him sitting on the bench we sat at on our date, staring out at the bay. My entire being narrows on him. The sounds, the smell, the view, it’s all gone, as he becomes everything. I’ll never know what it is about this guy that makes my heart race, body burn, chest nearly explode, but it’s one of those things that’s unexplainable in this crazy, big world. “Micah,” I call out. He glances over his shoulder and my mouth hastily shuts as my body suddenly becomes his with a single look. That’s when I realize my life is going to be defined in only two ways. The time before Micah. And the time after this conversation.

Micah Neither the carnival nor the crowd can distract me from the beauty standing before me. I rise from the bench, moving to Allie, pulled by something I’ve never been able to control. I need her. I need to be closer to her. I need to have her in my arms. It’s more than a yearning; it’s a necessity, like that air I need to breathe. There’s no noise around me. There are no people holding my attention. She’s all I see. That smile of hers is all I can pay attention to when I reach her. The same smile I saw the first day I met her, as well as the smile that changed me as a man and altered my priorities. I reach up, cupping her face, embracing the way my muscles tighten to protect her. “You still want me, even after everything I’ve done.” I ask her the one question I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. “Why?” “Because you fought to have me, Micah. You fought for me to see you. Then when I did, you were all I wanted, too.” She leans sweetly into my hand, her voice softening, easing the chill within my chest. “You’re all I see. All I feel. All I crave. All I need.” I am lost in her those soulful eyes of hers, the thundering of my heart banging in my ears. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand why you care for me like you do, or how you can look past all the broken pieces to find something to love.” “There’s nothing to understand.” She reaches up, placing her hands on top of mine. “I care for you in the way I do only because you care for me in the way you do. Passionately. Intensely. Wildly. It’s all that I need, Micah.” Emotion swells deep inside me, and I do nothing to stop it. “I’m glad it is.” She begins laughing softly, lowering her hands to grip my forearms. “Would you stop looking at me like I’m this angel who saved you?” “You are an angel who saved me.” I hold her face tight in my hands, feeling the power of the energy between us. “You find goodness in others and when it’s not there you create it.” Even now, she somehow can’t accept that all of this, us, is because of her. But Darius is right, I can’t fear that about her. What I can do is cherish her. Protect her. Give her everything I can to show her what a rare gift she is to this world. “Come. There are things I need to say.” I drop my hand from her face, wrap my fingers around the warmth of hers, and lead her toward the bench. I wait until she sits down and then I sit next to her, taking her hand in both of mine. “There’s secrets, Allie, that I’ve never told anyone.” “Well, I know some of them already,” she says softly. I glance sideways at her and nod. “Somehow I can’t keep much from you, and even when I try to, you find out anyway.” I glance at our held hands and push back the emotion rising in my throat. “And I’m realizing now that’s because I shouldn’t keep secrets from you, no matter how dark they are.” “I can handle the dark, Micah.” I squeeze her hands, loving how my two fit so perfectly around hers. “For some reason, you can.” I

know I have to let her in. I can’t have this between us. She deserves to understand me in a way no one does. She deserves for me to tell her what I’ve never told anyone, and what only Gabe knows because he was there. Allie deserves to see my demons for what they are, because she is the one woman willing to fight them. I squeeze her fingers in mine, shutting my eyes, parting my lips, and returning to the darkest place in my past. “Clara.” I storm into my bedroom, unable to process what I’m seeing. There’s no sound. There’s no time. It’s like the world has decided to stop for this very second, and all I see is her. Clara. Blood. So much blood that the scent of copper is slicing through the air. She’s lying on her back on my bed, dark crimson liquid soaking the sheets beneath her. I’m moving to her, a second feeling like a minute, as I take in the open prescription bottle next to her on the mattress, along with the knife and the piece of paper that reads Forgive me. Those things I can process. What I can’t are the slits from her wrists to elbow and her ghostly pale skin. I lurch onto the bed, grabbing up her lifeless body, feeling the warm, sticky wetness beneath me, soaking my bedsheets. “What have you done?” I scream at her. She’s cold. So damn cold. “No. No. No.” I shake her, but she falls limp in my arms. “No. You can’t do this.” The bleeding isn’t stopping. I jump from the bed, grabbing my T-shirt off the floor, tying it around her forearm. My hands are shaking, with shiny crimson stickiness soaking my skin, when I grab the pants on the floor and hurry to stop the bleeding on her other wrist. “No. Dammit. No.” Once I finish the knot, I grasp her face with my blood-soaked hands, placing my fingers against her pulse, searching…praying to a God I’ve never prayed to before. There’s no pulse beneath my fingers, not even a dull one. “Gabe,” I scream. “Help me.” I place her head back down on the pillow and begin compressions, counting each time my hands press down into her chest. I vaguely hear Gabe rushing into the room, trying to get me off Clara, but I can’t let her go. I won’t. I refuse to give up on her. Straddling her waist, I press harder, trying desperately to fight for the life she gave up on way too easily. She had texted me only a half hour ago, telling me to come home to talk to her. I want to talk to her. Christ, I’ve been trying to find whatever hospital her piss-poor excuse of a father admitted her to, to help her with her depression. She gave up on herself. I won’t give up on her. “I need an ambulance to come to…” Gabe’s voice fades against the popping and cracking sound echoing around me. I don’t care if I break Clara’s ribs. I need her alive. Her cloudy eyes are wide open, staring up at the ceiling. But they’re as lifeless as they were when she left my house with her father, the last time I’d seen her. I press my mouth on hers, breathing air into her lungs. Her lips are so cold beneath mine. Again and again. I don’t stop trying to resuscitate her. She cannot die. She’s too young, too precious, too innocent…too pure. I did this to her. I made her soul go to a dark place where she couldn’t survive. Firm hands suddenly grip me, yanking me backwards off the bed. Gabe’s arms are holding me tight, not allowing me back on the bed with her, no matter how hard I fight. And soon, I’m watching the paramedics rushing in with equipment to save her life. But I know, as I stare into her eyes, that it’s far too late. She’s gone.

“I killed Clara,” I hear myself saying, still fighting to find my way back from the one memory I can never forget. “Regardless that I’m not the one who dragged the knife down her arms, I did that to her.” I can’t remember all the words I said, to tell Allie about my past, of my first love, blackmail and suicide, but I become more present when I add, “At the time, Clara thought I craved to beat and rape women. You have to understand times were different then. Kinky sex had a stigma. It’s not accepted like it is today.” I draw in a long breath, running my thumbs across Allie’s hands, before continuing. “Had I been more sure of myself back then, I could have explained that I liked kinky, sometimes rough sex, but I was a different man then. I didn’t understand myself what I wanted, let alone help someone else try to understand me.” The sky at some point darkened around us, but I’m not sure exactly when. I glance sideways at Allie, and the lights from the carnival are glowing into the night, illuminating her. Tears rush down her face, instantly crippling me. I can’t handle seeing her hurting. I shut my eyes, knowing I can’t get lost now. I have to push on. “Clara was a very sweet, innocent, sheltered girl. She wasn’t equipped to handle me. Nor was she the type of girl who could blackmail someone and not let the guilt of that overwhelm her, which it so clearly did in the end.” My voice cracks and I allow it to. I can’t hide anymore. I won’t. Not with Allie. “After I learned that Clara hadn’t returned to school, I tried to find her. I searched for weeks and hired a private investigator to locate her, but what I learned later is that when Clara became depressed, her father let her rot in a mental hospital. She shouldn’t have been there…” I shut my mouth, unable to finish, feeling my eyes growing sticky. “Micah…” Allie says softly. I can’t raise my head. I can’t even move. She cups my face, forcing my head up. Her eyes are firm, as is her voice. “You need to forgive yourself for all of this.” I blow out the breath stuck in my throat. Somehow she’s saying exactly what I need to hear, and that doesn’t surprise me. That’s what she does; she gets me in a way no one else does. She is everything I need and more. She can handle me. I don’t want to hear that Clara’s death isn’t my fault. I don’t want to hear that we were young and foolish. I don’t want to hear that there’s nothing I could’ve done or that Clara made her own choices. Because all I think of when I think of Clara is that my selfish sexual desires are what led to her death and that I wish I could’ve saved her. The breeze brushes by, and I run my hand over the silky strands of Allie’s hair, tucking them behind her ear, not allowing those eyes to be hidden from me. “I kept trying to protect you,” I continue. “But I realize now that it’s something I shouldn’t fight. You’ve never once punished me for the darkness, and I’ll always adore the lightness in you; therefore, together, somehow this just works.” I inhale deeply before continuing. “The moment you walked into my life, you showed me another way to live. Now I can’t look back. No more hiding, Allie. No more running.” “We’re in this together.” She smiles. A smile that hastily ends the conversation. There’s nothing else but my lips on hers and my arms tightly wrapped around her. I have her. She has me. And the darkness slithering inside is no longer restless. It’s still there, and I know that pain won’t ever leave me completely, only now I don’t have shields up against Allie, she holds the sword to fight my demons.

Chapter 20

Allie I enter my bedroom a couple hours later after telling Micah to stay put in my living room. I grab the plastic bag next to my bed on the hardwood floor, and begin emptying the contents onto the mattress. While I take the time to lay out each item perfectly, I’m thinking about how Micah had his chance to make things right between us. Now it’s my turn. I finish up with the items in front of me and smooth out the bedsheet, drawing in a big deep breath for bravery. Then I call out, “Okay, come in.” “I’m expecting you to be naked.” I chuckle at his hard voice, but I stop laughing when he enters the room. His expression, as always, is completely unreadable. He slowly examines each item on the bed before he looks at me. “You’re not naked.” Hardness fills those gorgeous smoky eyes. “We’re also not doing this.” I raise my brows at him. “No?” “No.” I can’t let him stop me. Those demons are still there. I see them, quiet for now, but still pulsating beneath the surface. There’s not room in this relationship for all of us. And those demons need to be gone. For good. “I’m sorry to tell you this…” I unhook each button of my blouse, watching him studying me with all his intensity being expertly controlled. Once I ditch my shirt, I unbutton my pants, pushing them down. “But this choice is mine to make.” I toss my pants aside, remaining in delicate black lingerie. He needs this. We need this. I am strong enough to fight his demons. But I want to rid him of those fuckers forever. Deep within me, I don’t doubt myself now. No matter the butterflies in my stomach and the tremble of my hands making me feel very inexperienced, I push on, because I see the flare in his eyes, telling me these items on the bed make him hot. Clara, and her tragic death, made him ashamed of his desires. I want him to embrace them. I need him to embrace them. Because by doing so, I’m getting the Micah that no one ever has and is all mine. I’m getting Micah in his powerful entirety, and it’s what my heart craves and my body desires. Those smoky eyes narrow, his jaw clenching. “Allison,” he warns. It’s a weak warning. I hear the waver in his voice. “Oooh, calling me by my full name. I must be a very bad girl. You better punish me.” I smile sassily at him, sensing the air shifting in the room, becoming thicker as he remains unnaturally still. Meeting his intoxicating stare straight on, I reach back, unhooking my bra, and his glare is there, burning fiercely, as it flutters to the ground. The air brushes against the pucker of my nipples, and my tummy fills with heat when I slide out of my panties and then toss them at him. He catches the thin fabric in one hand, raises them to his nose, and inhales my scent.

God, I melt right there. The intensity and power oozing from him, those eyes…there’s no hope in hell I’m going to control him. But I can’t give up and succumb to him yet. Tonight I’m having all of Micah. The real Micah, not the man he created in the shadows of pain. And I haven’t reached that Micah yet. “So…” I move to the bed and pick up the bundle of black rope. “Tell me, what would you do with this?” He pinches his mouth shut. Stubborn man! But I’m ready to battle tonight. Hell, I’ll fight with everything I have, because Micah wakes me up and makes me feel alive. I want to do the same for him. For always. Watching the way his shoulders tense up, I set to make it impossible to ignore me, and playfully drag the rope across my breasts, spotting his glare vanish, and his lips part. “Would you rub me like this?” I practically purr. He gives me a slow nod, those deep eyes following my every move. I unwind the bundle of rope and then wrap the binding around my wrist. “Is this how you would tie me up?” “Yes.” I note the slight tremble of his hands, when I gather the rope and circle the bundle around my taut nipple, giving him a moan to tempt him. “Why do you want to bind me?” “To force you under my command so that your mind goes quiet.” He scrapes his teeth against his plump bottom lip, and I notice his visible deep swallow. One look a little lower and I see the bulge of his erection through his pants. “To make you not think of pleasing me, only of what you feel.” All that power is flowing out of him, nearly in my reach and freed from years of being hidden by shame. Warm wetness spreads out between my thighs as his murmur slides across me. “To own your pleasure.” My insides are quivering in anticipation. I release the rope and pick up the nipple clamps. “What about these little things…” I hang the ball chain off my finger, feeling the cooler air brush across my puckered nipples. “What would these do to me?” “Those give me four hands, instead of two.” “Really?” I raise my brows, intent on making this moment more playful, and to cut through the tension filling the air. “Now, that sounds interesting.” I turn to the mattress again, leaning down, giving Micah a good look at my naturally hanging breasts. His low, throaty groan encourages me. “And this?” I pick up the black leather flogger and slap the tails across my palm. “What will this do to me?” “Heat your skin, sensitize it.” I slap my thigh with the leather tails. “And this?” I slap again, harder this time, leaving red marks, showing the force I can handle, demanding he see that he can’t break me. “What would this do?” “Draw heat to where I want it.” The deepness in his voice, the power there, and the way he’s visibly trembling for me sends the flogger falling out of my hand, onto the bed. My agreement seeps into the air between us, a thick heavy wave of reassurance he needs from me. “I’m yours, Micah. Let me give you everything.” I see the exact second he accepts a small amount of his desires. He’s standing a little taller, chest puffed out, chin high, eyes directly on his target…me. He takes one step…then two…closing the distance. Then my naked skin is against his hard, clothed

body and his finger is tucked under my chin. “Why do you want this?” he asks firmly. “I don’t want half of you,” I reply, breathless. “I need all of you.” One brow arches while he keeps my chin in his grip, but uses the other hand to glide up my inner thigh. When his finger slides against wet flesh, a slow, dangerous smile arches his mouth, telling me he’s realized I’m not lying and that I want this. Badly. “All of me, hmm?” He takes my hand, tugging me away from the bed to the center of the room and begins to circle me. Slowly. Like a hunter sizing up his prey. In that second, I feel a shift come over him, as if the final unbreakable wall is crashing down. The change from a man who fears his dominance to one who allows it to overtake him, a wolf finally accepting his place as alpha in the pack. I sense the difference all over my skin and throughout my tingling body. The hairs on my arms rise up, and I’m taking notice of his every move, hearing my heartbeat bang in my chest, as he drags his finger slowly down my spine. “Tell me, when did you buy all this?” “Last night.” A low rumble hums from his chest and he moves to my front, running a finger from my chin all the way down my chest to the top of my pubic line. “How did you know about what to buy? Experience?” “No, a friend helped me.” “And who is this friend?” he asks, dragging his touch back up again to trace over my jawline. I nip at his finger. “That’s not for you to know.” I really don’t want him to know that after Juliet and I talked, she took me to a sex store and explained everything there, showing me how things felt by using them on either my hand or arm. There are some things Micah doesn’t need to know, that will forever be my dirty little secret. “Hmm…I see,” he murmurs, grasping my chin. His eyes zero in on me the way he does, making me feel like he is seeing me fully, completely. “I need to know you have no doubts about this. None at all.” I shiver, understanding his hesitation. If I do this and hate it, I will only worsen his shame. I need to be sure. I see those demons staring me in the face, nearly smiling in hope that my strength falters. “I want this. No doubts. Not a single one.” He drops his hand, steps back. “For tonight, ‘Stop’ is your safe word, because it’ll be a natural thing for you to say and remember. If anything is too much, I want to know, and I want you to be honest with me.” He grins. It’s a sexy thing to behold. “When we’re more comfortable together, and we play a little harder, you can pick a word that keeps you safe. Understand?” I swallow against the sudden rise of nerves in my belly. The power exuding from him makes me feel new, inexperienced. “Yes,” I tell him. Then he’s behind me, his fingers tangling in my hair while he’s kissing my neck, slowly dragging his tongue up along the side, until he’s nibbling my ear. The strength of his body presses tight against my back, and each kiss, each lick he offers comes with a firm squeeze of his hand on my shoulder, on my arm, on my breast, I feel him everywhere. My breath deepens naturally as his fingers close in my hair, while he moves my head to exactly where he wants it, so he can get the perfect angle to kiss my skin, sometimes giving me openmouthed kisses, other times nipping at the flesh with his teeth.

I never want him to stop. But then he does. My eyes open to him when I feel his breath across my face, and then I’m staring into so much confidence and desire, my breath catches in my throat. “You ready to play, love?” he asks. “Yes,” I whisper, irrevocably owned by him now. My lower body fills with heat and weight as he flicks open the button on his slacks and thrusts those, as well as his boxer briefs, down to his ankles. His big, beautiful cock springs free, standing straight up, with veins protruding along the sides, as he steps out of his pants, kicking them aside. “You want all of me?” he murmurs, dragging his thumb across my bottom lip. “Then take all of me.” I’m staring at him as I lower to my knees, gliding my hands down his thighs. He fists his cock, angling himself out to me, and I slowly lick my way up to the round tip. I trace around the curve of smooth skin, watching his head drop back and hearing masculine moans spilling from his mouth. Then I take him in deep, pressing my lips around him. I suck, long and hard, with strokes of my hand following. His low groans slide over me, making me wet, achy, and hot, when he removes his shirt. Ripped abs, the V at the waist, smooth tanned skin, his dark, smoky stare holding mine; I’m sucking harder now. God, he tastes so good. I relax my throat, stretching my mouth, taking him deeper. He smells of musk, of man, of mine. I memorize him. I listen to his moans, finding what he likes most and doing just that until he’s trembling. He begins thrusting into my mouth while I’m sucking my cheeks in around him and pumping my hand. I close my lips tight and then he’s moving his hips faster, more urgently. Precum saltiness slides across my tongue, when he suddenly shouts, “Enough.” He steps back, panting, sweat slicking his squared chest and abs. His commanding eyes hold mine. I watch the shame leave his face, the tension always lingering near the corner of his eyes slowly vanish. While the dark power in him once drew me to him, this man is who I want. I see a happy forever in his eyes. The side of his mouth arches as he drags his thumb across my damp lips again. “What’s on that pretty little mind of yours?” “You,” I whisper the same thing he once said to me. “Always you.” His low chuckle brushes across me. “No, love, it’s always about you.” He reaches for my hand, and as I rise I see something new in his eyes. “It will never not be about you.” Something that’s truly unleashed and raw. Something I don’t know. Something that’s beyond power and intensity. Now I’m the one who’s shaking.

Micah The soft light coming from the bedside table illuminates Allie, casting her body in a mesmerizing glow, and she belongs to me. The silky strands of her hair hang near the sides of her breasts, tightening my groin against the surge of desire encasing me. Her taut nipples tempt me to devour her until I get my fix. I grasp her chin; her baby blues to my gray. “When you look at me with all that sweet innocence”— the long, unsaid truth rushes from my lips—“it tempts me to steal it away.” She holds my stare intently. “You can’t steal something when it’s freely given.” I don’t fight the emotion rising in my throat, when her naked skin presses against mine. I know I’m right where I need to be. My greedy cock jerks against her belly, desperation to take her overwhelms me. I need to get inside her, possess her, control her pleasure. But I force myself to step back and reach for the black hemp rope. She wants to play. Maybe she hopes this will save me. Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t. But there isn’t a chance in hell I’ll refuse her. The power inside me purrs, relishing her allowing me this right. I drag the soft strands through my fingers, making a cuff, encouraged by the dilation of her pupils. “Offer your wrists to me, love,” I order. “Like this?” She lifts her hands. “More like this.” I bring them closer and a little higher, placing them together, teaching her how I like things. She’s holding her breath when I place the cuff over her wrist, but she shivers nicely when I pull the rope tight. I add the next cuff to her other wrist, and she gives me a delicious hard shudder. I can’t hide my grin, knowing she’s likely never seen it, not this unleashed. “Your reaction is unexpected.” “For me, too,” she breathes. “You look…God, you look so hot doing that.” “Why?” I ask in honest curiosity, dragging a finger along the sensitive skin inside her wrist. I feel her tense beneath my hands. Being bold is hard for a sweet girl like Allie, and I see the deep flush of her cheeks. But blood rushes to my cock, making me achy when she takes the dare and answers me: “It’s the way you touch the rope, almost like you’re touching me. It’s gentle, yet rough and determined, confident.” “It excites you?” I ask. She swallows deeply. “Yes.” “Why?” I push her a little now. “I want you to touch me like that.” I tug on the rope around her wrist and promise, “Soon my touch is all you’ll know.” I realize now that my eyes were sealed shut, and if they’d been wide open, I would’ve seen that Allie liked a dominant touch. If I’d seen past my shame, I would’ve known that when I pinned her beneath me, she’d get off. If I had seen through my pain, I would’ve noticed that she reacted to my slaps against her ass. If my eyes had been truly open, I would’ve seen how responsive she is to me, being exactly

what I need. My eyes aren’t shut anymore. With both wrists now secure, I take hold of the rope hanging down, leading her to the bed. Many times I’ve dreamed of seeing Allie wearing my ropes. I’ve gotten off with those images in my mind. But the dreams don’t compare to what I see when I lay her down for me in the middle of the mattress. She’s everything I never knew I needed to look upon. It’s not the kink getting me off now, it’s her. It’s the pure energy she emits. It’s the nervous and excited way she’s looking at me. It’s the arousal I see in her puckered nipples and flushing cheeks. It’s her in the bindings that makes my cock twitch. To not lose myself completely, I look away from her when I bind her to the headboard, focusing on the task at hand. Once I finish securing her, I slide off the bed, studying my beauty. Arms bound above her, Allie bends one knee, hiding herself from me. I nudge her calf, giving a gentle correction, until she widens her legs, showing me what I want—a good view of her pretty, wet pink folds. “When we play like this, I want to see you, never hide from me.” I lift my eyes to hers. “Do you understand?” “Yes,” she rasps. Her teeth are working her bottom lip as I grab the nipple clamps in my hand and lean forward, sucking on her nipple until I’m licking the hard bud. I lean away, add the clamp, closing the screw until her expression pinches. Then in the same manner, I lick and swirl my tongue over her other nipple, and add the next clamp. My cock is straining, sweat beginning to form over my flesh as her chest is rising and falling with her deep breaths. A mix of pain and pleasure shows on her face, being precisely what I want. Adrenaline slides beneath my control, slowly swirling to unleash itself at the perfect moment. “That’s my girl,” I murmur, sliding between her warm thighs, looking from her face to the clamps, over and over again. I realize looking at her now that for so long I’ve fucked my pain away to avoid feeling anything. Somehow she made me feel everything and didn’t let me crash and burn. I tell myself I won’t ever forget that, ever, as I place her thighs on my shoulders, lowering my mouth to her hot slit. She arches against me, moaning loudly when I slowly lick her, and taste the sweetness that belongs only to me. I glance up at her, and she’s watching me devour her. The discomfort from the clamps, now removed from her face, is morphing into pleasure. I groan against her arousal slicking my tongue, my focus shifting from her eyes to the clamps squeezing her nipples. I place my finger beneath my chin, and at her entrance, tickling the tender skin until her chin angles up, then I push two fingers deep inside of her with little warning. The clamps, the binding, me…she comes into orgasm so fast, she’s leaving me smiling in masculine pride against her sex. Her inner walls clamp against my finger, and her squeal of disagreement fills the air when I back away, refusing to let her soar over the edge. “Shhh…” I place a soft kiss on her hard clit, feeling her quivering beneath my lips. “Let me play.” Determined to draw this moment out as long as I can, I kneel between her spread thighs, staring at her pink folds, stroking my rock-hard cock. Hunger spikes into my muscles and the rich desires inside take pleasure in this sight. Flushed cheeks. Bright, shiny eyes. Skin squeezed by rope. A helpless woman bound for my pleasure. Each stroke of my cock sends my hips forward, and I grunt against my pleasure, gritting my teeth. She gives a soft squeak, wiggling against the bed. “Micah.”

The desperation in her voice snaps me into focus, and I see what I’m doing to her. Because as much as her vulnerability is driving me crazy, my dominance is doing the same to her. Her body is quivering with the force of emotion riding her. I grab her hips, flipping her over onto her stomach. I slap her bottom with an unforgiving hit, and her cute squeal makes me grin. I love her noises. I intend to make them louder. My cock hardens to steel, painfully tight as I glance at her bindings and slide off the bed, seeing the rope is pressing into her skin. But the flesh is red, not blue, and she is just fine when I grab the suede flogger, twirling it in my hand. Her smooth, creamy flesh lays out before me—my personal playground—and in my line of vision I see the veins straining on the side of my dick. I gather her hair, moving her soft strands off her back then trail my fingers down her smooth spine. I squeeze her bottom, loving how she’s a squirmy little thing when she’s this aroused. It’s sexy. It’s mine to enjoy. I twirl the flogger in my hand once more, relishing the power and the control that comes with holding one, and allowing her to hear the swoosh in the air. Then I send the leather tails onto her bottom. “Oh, my God.” She giggles. I flick the tails again, a little harder this time. She gasps. “Okay. Wow. That’s…” I send the tails along the other butt cheek, harder now, stopping all conversation. Her breathing, her body language, non-verbal communication, I pay attention only to her. I don’t give her time to think. Nor do I give her time to feel nervous or unsure. I flick the flogger faster, not missing a spot on her shoulders or her bottom, and not relenting for a second to allow the sensations to fade. Her hands tighten into fists, and I feed on her intensity, driving her higher, increasing the force, sending her into the place where her endorphins go on a fantastic ride. Her head drops onto the pillow beneath her, her toes point against the mattress, her moans spilling out into the room. And I’m pretty damn sure I can make her come from a flogging alone. But not tonight. The leather tails tap against her shoulders once more, leaving them beet red before I focus on her bottom, bringing all that delicious heat there—to where I want her sensation to go. My cock is suffering, so desperate for her touch, as I endure hearing her soft, sensual moans. Each swipe of the flogger floods me with my own sense of pleasure, and I want to keep going, never stopping until I reach her limits, but I spot her hard quivers before I hear the cracks in her moans. I won’t push her, not tonight. This is a taste. I want her to want more. I toss the flogger to the ground and grab her hips, flipping her onto her back. Those eyes…I have to see them. The moment I do, I need to be deep inside her, owning her. The way she’s staring at me now is something different—something so pure and beautiful it should be untouchable. Yet somehow it’s mine. I reach back for the condom she’s left on the bed and my hands are shaking as I sheath my rock-hard dick. I don’t wait. I can’t. I nudge her thighs open for me and enter her in one swift stroke. Her shout of ecstasy slides over me in a sizzling embrace, and I grind my hips, pressing my weight on her, holding her pinned beneath

me. Hot pleasure seeps into my body as I ride her hard—harder than ever before, to bring us both to orgasm. I don’t need hours to fuck her. I simply crave to fuck her right. I want to possess her body. I need to mark her soul as mine. My cock hardens with my thrusts and those pretty eyes are huge and glassy, not even seeing me. Her chin angles up, her inner walls become a vise grip around my shaft. I’m staring at her, knowing the battle is lost to us both. We fought the end, not wanting the moment to vanish, hoping this feeling could go on and on. But I needed her, and she loved me. With one final thrust, her eyes clear and she’s all I see—all I know—as we both give in and crash over the edge together, leaving me bucking and jerking, roaring out my release. Then it’s just us, sweaty skin, fulfilled promises, and healed hearts. Many more moments pass, while I’m breathless, resting my forehead on hers. “I get it now,” I eventually say. “Get what?” she whispers, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath mine. “Your secret.” I move away, looking into those soulful eyes that somehow shredded me to pieces and rebuilt something better in its place. “Love, that was the secret you seemed to keep hiding from me, and that I so desperately wanted to find out. That’s what you knew all along, isn’t it? This, us, it’s love, and all I had to do was see it.” She gives me the only answer she needs to. Her smile.

Epilogue

Allie One month later, I’m staring at Micah and Darius from my kitchen, watching them chat away as I fill my wineglass to the rim. Micah joins our Sunday night dinners now, and my brother is changing in ways I never imagined. He hasn’t asked me a single financial question in the past month, nor does he bother me about the remaining money in my trust fund. Our conversations are more normal than they’ve ever felt before. It’s a good change. I stick the cork back into the wine bottle, regarding them closely. Regardless, it’s all weird that I know things about Darius that I truly don’t want to know, I try my best not to think about him owning a sex club or his involvement in the darker delights of sex, because there’s something special in the way Darius and Micah interact. They share a closeness that I like. I’ve never really seen Darius like this—so at ease, so comfortable. Even so, I’ve never asked my brother or Micah more about the DC than what I learned from Juliet. Micah made a vow of secrecy to protect those in that particular group, and I feel to ask him to break his promise makes him choose between his word and me. And the truth is, I don’t care. The past is the past. I have Micah’s future, and so far that future has been introducing me to the absolute best sex of my life, so full of love. I return the wine bottle to the fridge and join the men again, taking a seat beside Micah on the couch. This is my last night of being in my condo. Tomorrow, Micah and I will live together at his home. I look around at the boxes of all my belongings, not with sadness, but happiness that we’re taking a big step now, instead of baby steps. Marriage doesn’t seem so far away, and that feels great, making me realize how good things are between Micah and me, when it definitely hadn’t been easy getting to this place in our lives. I glance between them, sipping my wine, listening to them chat away, completely unaware I left and came back into the room. I haven’t gotten a word in for the last fifteen minutes, but I understand why the tension is thick in the air when I look at the two ripped-out magazine articles from the tabloid Gotcha! on my coffee table. The first headline reads: Can Micah Holt be forgiven for the ultimate betrayal? Or will Allie Parker come between two billionaires? That article isn’t the first time I’d been mentioned in the tabloids in an odd way. I glance at the very first article that I was mentioned in a month ago, with the tagline that reads: But could this fairy tale end is disaster? Our sources tell us that the real estate mogul has got himself a forbidden treasure. Both Micah and Darius are staring deeply at the articles, and I’m sure they are starting to realize the shit-storm we’re in. Darius finally breaks the silence. “Maybe we’re looking into this too deeply.” “It’s right there in front of us.” Micah snorts, leaning back on the couch, placing a hand on my thigh. “I don’t think it’s possible to look too deeply into it.” “I have to agree,” I say with a long sigh, pulling my legs up beneath me, leaning into Micah. “There’s something really off about the articles they’re writing. I can’t wrap my head around the fact

that this is what they’re focusing on.” Both men look at me, but it’s Micah who asks, “What do you mean?” “I mean,” I continue, waving at the magazine clippings, “why would they even assume that Darius is pissed about us being together?” “Because I was.” Darius grins. “Yes, I know,” I say to my hotheaded brother and then add, “but like I told you before, don’t you both think it’s strange they’re focusing on you, instead of me and Micah?” Micah arches a brow. “You would rather they dig up dirt on you?” “No, of course not, but isn’t that what tabloids do?” Darius narrows his eyes, pondering, then nods. “You’re right. It is odd they aren’t focusing more on you, and I also don’t like the fact that they’re printing true facts, instead of lies.” Because that means someone is telling them these truths. “Which can only mean…” My doorbell suddenly rings, and I startle, nearly spilling my wine. Micah chuckles, taking the glass from me and putting it on the coffee table. “Expecting anyone?” “Not that I know of,” I reply, moving quickly toward the door. When I whisk it open, seeing a face that normally would make me so happy, my mind goes instantly blank. I’m speechless, not able to even begin to process the view in front of me. Taylor is standing on the other side of door, and obviously she’s been either walking in the rain or standing outside for a while, because water is dripping off her nose. She gives a small smile. “Is that room still available?” I blink, but it doesn’t fix what I’m seeing. Black-and-blue bruises cover the side of Taylor ’s face. “What happened to you?” I whisper. Tears well in her eyes. “I left him.” My mind snaps into focus and I lurch forward, wrapping my arms around her. She’s shaking against me and sickness is rolling through me. I should have seen this. I should have known. I should have gone to her and helped her. But her hug tells me she doesn’t need should-haves from me. I’m not sure how long I’ve been holding her when Micah’s soft voice fills the air. “Allie.” I turn, holding Taylor, but allowing Micah to see her. They’d met each other over FaceTime. He always made sure to say hello to her if we were talking. But Taylor had not looked like this. Micah’s gaze sweeps over Taylor ’s face, eyes blaze red-hot before he controls his emotions and says gently, “Who did this to you?” “I’d say someone who loved me.” Taylor wipes her tears, cringing at the obvious pain near her bruised eye. “But I think it’s very clear he has a warped version of love.” Micah’s pulsating protective energy is nothing compared to the state of my brother. He steps in next to Micah, neck corded, nostrils flaring. “The man who did this to you…” His eyes are only for Taylor. Totally fixated on her. “He’s a dead man.” Not a statement. A promise.

For Michelle, thanks for being my Liv!

Acknowledgments A million thank-yous to Sue Grimshaw and Jessica Alvarez for all their unwavering support. Big hugs go out to my readers for taking part in naming the businesses in the Dirty Little Secrets series. I cannot say enough thanks to Myra Espino for naming Phoenix, Susan Sargent for naming The Vault, and Susan Platt for naming Bijoux (which will be used in a future story). Ladies, your picks couldn’t have been more perfect! As always, much love to the entire Loveswept team for all that you do.

BY STACEY KENNEDY Dirty Little Secrets Bound Beneath His Pain Tied to His Betrayal (coming soon)

Club Sin Claimed Bared Desired Freed Tamed Commanded Mine

Magic & Mayhem Witches Be Burned

PHOTO: PAIGE RICHARDSON

STACEY KENNEDY is the USA Today bestselling author of the Club Sin series. She writes deeply emotional romances about powerful men and the wild women who tame them. When she’s not plugging away at a new story, she’s either hiking, canoeing, relaxing around a campfire, or obsessing over Suits, The Walking Dead, and Game of Thrones. Stacey lives in southwestern Ontario with her husband (who puts any of the heroes in her books to shame), their two young children, and her other babies: a mini labradoodle named Jax and a chocolate labrador named Murphy. staceykennedy.com Facebook.com/authorstaceykennedy @Stacey_Kennedy

The Editor’s Corner Looking for the next romance that’ll give you the feels? Our fantastic selection of books will definitely satisfy. You’ve never read bedtime stories like the sensual forbidden fairy tales in Sharon Lynn Fisher ’s Loveswept debut, Before She Wakes. And speaking of debuts, don’t miss New York Times bestselling author Kelly Elliott’s Searching for Harmony—a gut-wrenching story of a love that transcends all odds. Vonnie Davis’s Her Survivor welcomes readers to Wounded Warrior Falls where beating the odds is what it’s all about, while Bound Beneath His Pain kicks off a deeply sensual new series from Club Sin author Stacey Kennedy. Diana Quincy continues her Rebellious Brides series with a tale of forbidden love between a socialite and a scholar in A License to Wed. Wedding bells are ringing—and tempers are flaring—as Marquita Valentine’s Take the Fall series continues in the sweet and sexy Hard to Fall. The Brothers of Mayhem MC ride again in Carla Swafford’s explosive novel, Full Heat. Ashley Suzanne follows up Raven with the next round in her scorching Fight or Flight series, Cutter. The third book in Beth Yarnall’s Recovered Innocence series, Reclaim, is brimming with angst and sensuality. And don’t miss the next book in Stacey Lynn’s deeply emotional Fireside series, His to Protect. Or the story of a war hero fighting to remember the love he left behind in Serena Bell’s emotionally charged To Have and to Hold. Then Shawntelle Madison’s seductive Surrender to You follows two career-oriented friends with benefits. And finally we have a cold case that leads to blazing-hot temptation in Kathy Clark’s romantic suspense Almost Forever. Until next time ~Happy Romance!

Gina Wachtel Associate Publisher

Read on for an excerpt from the second book in Stacey Kennedy’s Dirty Little Secrets series:

Tied to His Betrayal Available from Loveswept

Darius I want a gun. A gun that will take a man down in the blink of an eye. I’m considering where to get this gun as I’m staring at the only woman I’ve ever loved. At Taylor Erikson’s beaten face. She’s standing on the other side of my half-sister ’s, Allie Parker ’s, front door, and her light hazel eyes are locked on mine, collapsing the stability and strength of my world. Minutes ago, I was enjoying Sunday night dinner with Allie and her boyfriend, Micah Holt. Now I can’t move. I’m not even sure I’m breathing. I don’t know how long Taylor and I have been in a staring contest that I won’t ever lose. All I know is every bruise and cut on her face, burning them into my memory so I can repeat these marks on whoever hurt her. “The man who did this to you,” I hiss through my teeth, seeing tears well in her eyes. “He’s dead.” I hear the hitch of her breath before she expertly shuts down emotion, as she used to do when we were younger. But that’s not all I remember. I remember the way those pink pouty lips felt when I kissed her worries away. I remember how perfect and warm she felt wrapped in my arms, safe from a scary world. I remember how my fingers tangled perfectly in her long honey-colored, wavy locks, holding her tight against me. I can’t forget anything. She haunts me. Every damn day. “Oh, hush, Darius,” says Allie, breaking through the thick air, pulling Taylor inside her condo. “No one is going to kill anyone.” She shuts the door behind her with a loud bang. “God, Taylor, you’re shivering.” That’s when some sort of sense smacks into me. Taylor is soaking wet from head to toe. One quick look over my shoulder at the 180-degree view of San Francisco’s midtown shows me that it’s pouring rain outside. “I’m fine,” Taylor says, drawing my attention to her. “Or I will be once I get out of these clothes.” “Need help?” Allie asks. “No. Geesh. I’ll be back before you know it.” Taylor smiles. Every set of eyes watch Taylor, with her bags in her hands, moving down the hallway, toward the bedroom. Silence surrounds us. Silence that is heavy and thick, saying so much without saying anything at all. Allie’s blue eyes are wide when she looks between me and Micah, nervously twirling her long brown hair around her finger. I know she’s searching her mind for the same answers I want, like what happened to Taylor, but she seems stuck, unable to move past the worry for her best friend. I don’t have that problem. Leaving Allie and Micah behind, I storm off to the bedroom in search of answers, and knock on the door, intent to get them. “Come in,” Taylor calls from behind the door. I enter the bedroom, finding Taylor sitting on Allie’s bed, now out of her wet clothes and wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a light blue T-shirt. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail, but her skin is still

ashen. “Taylor…” “I don’t want to hear it, Darius,” she states, pulling a pair of socks out of her bag. “No lectures. All right?” I fold my arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Who says I want to lecture you?” She finishes putting on her sock, then smiles. “Because I know you.” That smile is a sucker punch to my throat. Many of my best memories have that smile in them. “If you know me so well, then why have I come in here?” She doesn’t hesitate. “You want to know who did this to me and why it happened.” She puts on her other sock before continuing. “The answer is, an angry ex-boyfriend and drinking…lots and lots of drinking.” After zipping up her bag, and rising from the bed, she turns to face me. “And now you’re going to tell me that you want to hire security to watch over me, because you’re concerned for my safety.” I don’t hesitate either. “You’re right, I do.” Her pretty eyes soften as she moves toward me. “I don’t want a babysitter, so that’s not a conversation we’re going to have.” Her fruity scent spirals in the air around me when she closes in. “But because I know you won’t let this go. His name is Shawn Mason. And no, Darius, you’re not going to go and kick the shit out of him.” I’m hearing what she’s saying, and even I recognize she thinks she doesn’t need me, but it’s been five years since I’ve had her this close. I can barely contain myself, fighting against the yearnings to protect what once was mine. “You forgot to mention the final reason I came in here.” Her light brown eyebrows raise over her ocean blue eyes. “Oh, yeah, and what’s that?” I open my arms to her. “Come here.” She might act like she doesn’t need me. But I know she does. A second of hesitation drags out between us before she’s stepping into my arms, melting into me like she used to. My cock hardens to steel, being close to the only woman who’s spoken to my heart, and I angle my hips out, not allowing her to feel my greedy dick. Many moments go by, and only when she leans away do I dare release her. The tension in my chest fades a little at her more honest smile now. “Thanks,” she says, softly. “I needed that.” She goes to walk by me, but I reach out, gently grabbing her wrist. Her head swings around to mine, and for a second I fear touching her was a mistake, until I see the way her eyes dilate and her breath hitches. “Don’t run from me just yet,” I murmur. “Who says I’m running,” she whispers, holding my stare. This woman owns me in a way no one ever has. One look, one statement, I’m putty in her hands. “You’re running from something.” I slide my finger above her bruise and beneath her eye, seeing pain in its depths. Pain that I’m sure she’s trying very hard to hide. But she can hide nothing from me. “Don’t be too strong, too brave, or too proud. I’m here, if you need me.” “Yes, I know that you are, but I don’t need you to be my hero.” She steps back, putting space between us. “This is my problem, not yours. Please let me deal with it.” I clench my jaw, fighting off what I want to do, and that’s keep her in my arms. “Just tell me that you’re okay and safe. Give me that at least.” “I’m okay and safe.” Before I can call her on her lie, she’s exiting the bedroom. I shut my eyes, inhaling and exhaling, pulling in the emotion tightening my throat. It feels like no time has passed at all since I last held her. I

still love her. I never won’t love her. But Taylor wanted a life that I couldn’t give her. She wanted the fairy tale, and unless the hero likes the darker delights of sex, power, and money, then I’m not the right type of knight in shining armor. Hearing the conversation begin in the living room, I follow her, finding Taylor staring at the tabloid article on the coffee table. “What’s this?” She picks up the ripped-out piece of paper, reading the ink written on the shiny white page. Can Micah Holt be forgiven for the ultimate betrayal? Or will Allie Parker come between two billionaires? Knowing Taylor ’s changing the subject to keep the focus off her, I take a seat next to her on the couch and tell her, “This is our current problem.” Taylor looks at Allie, who’s sitting across from us in the oversized chair, then at Micah, who’s resting next to my half-sister, on the armrest, finally turning to face me again. “Sorry, I’m confused. What exactly am I looking at here?” “For the second time in a month…” Micah thrusts a hand through his jet-black hair; his dark brows pinched over his bluish-gray eyes. “You’re looking at the tabloids actually getting something right.” “Wait. What?” Taylor narrows her eyes on me. “You were mad about them dating?” The side of Micah’s mouth arches, as that’s not exactly how it played out. Micah proved himself worthy of my sister. That’s the only reason he’s still alive, so mad might be putting it lightly. I shrug my answer, understanding Taylor ’s surprise, considering Allie had no qualms about my dating her best friend. But I’m not Allie, or nearly as rational. Besides, Allie had been under my protection, given that I was tasked to raise her after her mother died in a plane crash when Allie was fifteen years old. Taylor shakes her head at me in clear disappointment, then focuses back on the page in her hands. “Even if you were mad at first, why is that so bad? I mean, there could be worse things written about you in the tabloids.” “While that’s very true,” I respond, not too happily, “few people knew that at first I wasn’t thrilled over the idea of Micah and Allison dating. So the fact that the tabloid knows something so personal is worrisome.” Taylor pauses, beginning to frown. “Which I guess can only mean…” “There’s a traitor among us.”

Love stories you’ll never forget By authors you’ll always remember eOriginal Romance from Random House randomhousebooks.com

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