(Guardian Protection #1)Singe - Aly Martinez

SINGE Copyright © 2017 Aly Martinez

All rights reserved. No part of this novel may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted without written permission from the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with others please purchase a copy for each person. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

SINGE is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and occurrences are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, events, or locations is purely coincidental.

Cover: By Hang Le Photo: Wander Augiar Model: Zack Salaun Editor: Mickey Reed Formatter: Stacey Blake

Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Epilogue Other Books About the Author



“Tomorrow, it’s on me,” I said, standing up off the barstool. Behind the bar, Carmen waggled her eyebrows, seductively calling out, “Funny, I could be on you tonight if you stayed awhile longer.” I laughed at her innuendo and tossed her a wink. “I gotta get home, babe. Seven a.m. comes way too early.” “Well, offer’s on the table,” she purred. It always was with her. And, if I wasn’t careful, I’d eventually take her up on it. Not that sleeping with Carmen wouldn’t have been good. But, when you find a cheap bar only five minutes from your house, you don’t fuck that up by dipping your cock into the bartender. “Later, Carmen,” I called, pushing the door open and heading to my car. I wasn’t out of the parking lot before I heard, “Officer Levitt? We’ve got an alarm going off in Park Hill. You mind taking a look on your way home?” Banging my head back against the headrest, I groaned to myself. Park Hill was about as “on my way home” as swinging past California on the way to Maine. Switching my radio to my other hand, I complained, “I’m off the clock, Jocelyn.” I had been for several hours, even if I hadn’t made it home yet. She laughed. “I’m sorry, but you’re the only one remotely close. I had to send two cars out to the Laslows’ to break up another argument between Cam and his old man.” “They at it again?” I asked. “Apparently, Cam told Lindsey he didn’t want the baby. Lindsey told his dad. Old Man Laslow lost his mind.” I chuckled, putting my blinker on and then doing a U-turn in the middle of the empty road. “Christ. I bet he did. I know the man’s seventy-five, but I sure as hell wouldn’t want to go toe-to-toe with him.” “I’m with you on that. So…you gonna head out to Park Hill?” she asked in a sugary-sweet tone. I grumbled deep in my chest. “You’re gonna owe me some of that banana bread for this. I missed it the other day when you brought it up to the station.” “I don’t owe you anything.” She giggled. “However, as a personal thank-you from the state of Illinois, Park County, and the owners of Park Hill, I’ll bring you in a loaf on Friday. Deal?” “Deal. I’m en route now.” “Stay safe, and radio in with your report.” “Yes, ma’am,” I replied, knowing exactly how much thirty-year-old Jocelyn loved being called ma’am by a twenty-five-year-old man. “Don’t you—” “Gotta go.” I turned the volume down to mute her, grinning to myself as I flipped my lights and siren on.

I’d been a cop for two years. And, in that time, I’d been out to the privately owned Park Hill estate at least a dozen times. It wasn’t unusual for the alarm on the mansion to get triggered. It never amounted to anything. The expansive estate was on the very edge of the county, and trouble didn’t usually travel that far out. More often than not, a bird at a window or a bumbling new member of the grounds crew would accidentally trip the alarm. Truth was, no one actually lived in Park Hill. The owners visited sporadically. But, for the majority of the time, it remained empty. Some minutes later, I cut my siren as I pulled up to the entrance. The cold air assaulted me as I stepped out of my patrol car with my flashlight in hand and aimed at the keypad on the massive security gate that blocked the driveway off. That damn thing alone had to have cost more than I’d make in a lifetime. Forget about the house inside. The smell of wood burning in a fireplace wafted through the night air. I guessed someone was home for a visit. I typed in the emergency code on the gate panel and then climbed back in my car and made my way down the tree-lined driveway. I’d spent the day on patrol, and, with the exception of some minor vandalism across town, it had been a slow one. Though, in the blink of an eye, that would change. Along with my entire life. “Oh fuck,” I breathed as the main house came into view on the top of the hill. After throwing my car in park, I jumped on the radio at my shoulder. I could barely get the words out as I slung my door open and took off at a dead sprint. “This is Officer Levitt! I need fire support at Park Hill immediately!” And then I froze as a wave of adrenaline crashed into me like a tsunami. An inferno roared in the night sky, but it was the small silhouette of a woman perched outside a third-floor window, smoke pouring out all around her, that knocked the breath out of me. My heart stopped, but my feet continued to pound against the pavement. Jocelyn’s voice caught me. “What’s going on?” “I need medical too!” I barked as I got closer. “The whole damn place is in flames and there’s a woman trapped!” The woman’s long, black hair blew out behind her like a battered flag whipping in a storm. I couldn’t make out her face or her skin color or even guess at her age for the black soot covering her, but her fear was unmistakable. And unforgettable. “Hang on!” I yelled up to her. “Oh my God!” she screamed before it turned into a fit of coughing. “Help me!” “Hang on! Don’t let go!” Frantically, I searched the perimeter for a way in, but it wasn’t only her house that was on fire. Flames were encompassing her. The yard and all the surrounding flowerbeds. Top to bottom. The first and second floors were completely engulfed, and if the sound of shattering windows was any indication, it was quickly making its way up to the third floor—to her. “No! Don’t leave me!” she screamed, panic thick in her garbled voice, as I started around the side of the house. A wall of heat stopped me in my tracks. Throwing an arm up, I did my best to block my face while scanning the building for any possible entry—or, in her case, exit. But there wasn’t a surface of that house that wasn’t ablaze. Except the roof. Son of a bitch. I spoke into the radio. “I need an ETA on fire.”

Jocelyn replied, “They’re on their way. Five minutes out.” I didn’t have one minute, much less five. Fuck. My pulse quickened, sending blood thundering in my ears. I was a cop. I’d trained for chaos. I should have been able to come up with a solution for a situation like this, but they didn’t teach you how to conquer the impossible at the Academy. And, as I took inventory of the flames dancing beneath her, I knew that was exactly what I was up against. My gut wrenched as I helplessly sped back around the house. She appeared almost childlike, hovering barefoot on that narrow brick ledge, but her long-sleeve top and her loose-fitting pants clung to the body of a woman. Jesus Christ! Where was that fucking fire truck? “Is anyone else in the house?” I yelled up to her. Not that I could have helped them, either. Short of running into a burning building, on what would surely be a suicide mission, there was not one thing I could do. And didn’t that little reality feel like a wrecking ball to the chest. “No!” she cried, a loud sob lodging in her throat. It turned into more coughing, her body shaking violently with every heave. I fisted my hands at my sides as my anxiety spiraled higher. “Please. Do something!” she begged. I ground my teeth together and once again glanced around as if a water hose and a ladder were going to suddenly appear out of nowhere. “Hang tight, okay? Fire trucks are on their way.” “I can’t hold on much longer!” she cried. “Yes, you can,” I demanded. “I…I think I need to jump,” she coughed out. I assessed the massive fire below her. I’d never be able to reach her before it swallowed her. But there was no way I’d be able to stand by and watch her burn. No. If she jumped off that ledge, she was going to get us both killed. “Don’t you dare,” I barked. “Don’t even think about it. Two minutes. They’ll be here.” “I…I can’t.” “Two minutes,” I repeated. “Hold—” Suddenly, a window to her left exploded, shooting glass and flames in all directions. I covered my face as she screamed in a paralyzing mixture of fear and agony. It cut me so deep that I knew I’d bear the scars for the rest of my life, and that had nothing to do with the glass and everything to do with the heavy weight of my failure already lingering in the smoke-filled air. When I opened my eyes again, I caught a glimpse of orange flickering in the window behind her. Panic built in my chest. “You need to move!” I yelled. She shook her head and continued to cough and cry. But it wasn’t an option. I couldn’t help her. Though I damn sure refused to watch her die. “Please. Just listen to me.” I swallowed hard. “You can’t stay there.” I looked to the roof. Sending her higher seemed wrong and went against everything I’d learned in my limited fire training. But fuck, my options were having her jump into a conflagration or scale up the side of a building in hopes of buying us the precious minutes needed for the fire department to arrive. Drawing in a smoke-filled breath, I made a decision that would haunt me for the rest of my life. “You need to climb up to the roof.” “I can’t!” she shrieked.

My stomach twisted, but I gentled my voice. “Look, I know you’re scared. But I’m right here. I’ll help guide you up, but, sweetheart, it’s bearing down on you. You gotta move, and I mean now.” She choked on a mouthful of smoke as she attempted to look over her shoulder. “You’re going to be fine. I swear to you,” I lied. “But you have to move.” “I’m not going to make it!” She had to have yelled it in order for me to hear her, but her defeat slither over my skin like a whispered goodbye. I took a long step forward, too focused on her to feel the heat singeing my skin. “Yes, you are!” I declared. “Move your ass up to the roof and we’ll both be out of here in time for breakfast.” Her gaze landed on mine, tears forging paths down her soot-covered cheeks, her disbelief obvious even from yards away. “Are you sure?” It was a ridiculous question. It wasn’t like I could make any guarantees. It was fire, for God’s sake. But that didn’t stop me from covering my heart with my palm and vowing, “I swear on my life you’re going to make it through this.” Her hesitation was evident, but with one last sob, she inched her small body farther out onto the narrow ledge, reaching the tips of her shaking fingers out for the windowsill above her. “Good girl,” I praised, a fraction of relief washing over me. And then I sucked in a sharp breath as one of her shaking legs slipped out from under her. “No!” I yelled. On instinct, I rushed toward the flames, my arms stretched out in the air as though I could catch her. A scalding heat blistered my face and forced me to stop, but the real pain was in my chest. I watched in horror for what felt like a lifetime as she fought to right herself, her dainty arms flailing like a wounded butterfly frantically trying to catch the wind. But there was none to be found. My heart lurched into my throat, and my breath seized in my lungs. And then a deep, guttural sound tore through me, shredding me from the inside out, as I watched her fall. I woke up in a cold sweat. It wasn’t exactly something new. I’d been dreaming of Butterfly for over four years. She always flew directly into the flames, screaming as I stood helpless to save her. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I cradled my head in my hands and tried to pretend I was okay. That wasn’t exactly something new, either. I could still feel the heat on the back of my neck. My lungs were still thick with smoke. The pressure in my chest never left me. The distance while I was living in LA had helped. But, in the week since I’d been back in Illinois, I’d woken up every morning at that blazing house. I didn’t even have to be asleep for the memories to assault me. I should have gone back to sleep. It was my first day at my new job, and the last thing I needed was to show up haggard and sleep-deprived. But, as I’d learned over the years, another fiery butterfly awaited me on the other side of REM. No way I was volunteering for that. I pushed myself off the bed and tugged a T-shirt on, preparing to head down to the hotel gym with hopes that I could outrun the mental fog that had been hovering over me since I’d returned. There was a reason I’d thrown all of my shit in my car and driven as far as I could all those years ago. Yet, somehow, I’d come full circle. But I’d come back a different man. At least that’s what I’d told myself as the deafening roar of doubt had overwhelmed me the moment I’d driven across the state line. Regardless, it had been time to go home.

I’d been gone too long. Or, as I’d decided as I’d passed the exit to Park County, not nearly long enough.



I’d spent the morning pacing my apartment. With over four thousand square feet at my disposal, I’d definitely get my steps in for the day. But exercise wasn’t why I was wearing a path on the mahogany. I was stuck and beginning to go stir-crazy. I’d started another trip past my king-size bed when I abruptly stopped. “What the hell?” I breathed, leaning in close to the full-length mirror I’d finished antiquing a few weeks earlier. “No fucking way.” Oh, but there was no way to deny it. There it was, in all of its wiry, gray glory, sticking straight up off the top of my head. The damn thing had to have been at least three inches long. “Why!” I cried at my reflection. I had another four years until I hit the dreaded milestone of thirty. That was when gray hairs were allowed to pop up. Not a minute sooner. Choosing to ignore the old wives’ tale, I plucked the bastard from my head. I definitely needed to call my stylist to come fix me up. On top of nature’s newest silver highlights, the teal on the tips of my long blond hair was growing dull. Maybe a change would do me good. New hair. New ideas. Hell, at this point, it definitely couldn’t hurt. After I grabbed my phone from my nightstand, I settled on my bed and typed out a text to my best friend. Me: What about a stepbrother romance? As usual, she replied immediately. Brianna: Are you Penelope Ward? Me: Well, no. Brianna: Then no. I groaned and stared up at the ceiling. I’d been brainstorming my newest book for what felt like forever, but writer’s block was a real bitch. Me: I hate you. Brianna: You love me. What about a male/male? You’ve never done one of those. Me: Yeah, well. I’m not Ella Frank, either. So, ya know. Brianna: Wow. I didn’t realize I got cryin’ Rhion this morning. Me: Ugh. I hate it when you rhyme. Brianna: No, you don’t, lyin’ Rhion. Lol Me: Hilarious.

Brianna: Okay. So, seriously. What about a stepbrother male/male romance? Me: Nah. I’m not into anal. I could never do two guys justice. Brianna: You get me a date with Devon or Johnson and I’ll do all the research for you. Me: I bet you would. Brianna: So, what are you up to today? Me: I’m writing all the words! Brianna: On a book you don’t even know the plot to? Me: Yeah. That one. Brianna: Right. Well, call me if you need a break. I tossed my phone onto the bed and buried my face in my hands. Why was writing so stressful? Maybe because I didn’t know the first thing about love, considering that my only serious boyfriend was a fictional character. Meh. Minor details. When my phone rang, I scooped it up fully expecting it to be Brianna with another lackluster plot attempt. However, my chin jerked to the side when I saw Katie’s name on the screen. I answered immediately. “Is everything okay?” “Why do you always assume something is wrong when I call?” I uncrossed my legs and rose off the bed. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because your mother is the boogeyman.” “I prefer sorceress of evil.” “That too. And also because, the majority of the times when you call me, it’s because something’s wrong.” “Not always!” she defended. She was full of shit. Katie Spencer called me approximately three times a year. Usually, once around Christmas, when her mother, my former Cinderella-style stepmother, would lose her fucking mind about not being able to afford her yearly holiday vacation to the Hamptons. She’d terrorize Katie until I’d offer her the keys to my dad’s old house. I’d never even received a thank-you for my generosity. That is if you didn’t include the missing silver I had to replace each time my stepmom left. Then Katie would call me again when her mother would flip out over my father’s untimely death and check herself into a ridiculously expensive rehab center (read: spa), leaving Katie scrounging for a way to pay the bill. Though she did this knowing Katie would call me to cover it. Margaret Spencer was all too happy to allow her daughter to do her dirty work. Margaret didn’t care that I was grieving as well. It must have slipped her mind that I had been only twenty-two years old when my dad had had a heart attack in the middle of my celebratory college graduation dinner. A private dinner for which he had rented out an entire restaurant for the evening. This was also the dinner where I had been forced to perform CPR until a bodyguard dragged me off his lifeless body to make way for the paramedics. No, as far as Margaret was concerned, that was pishposh. She’d lost the love of her life. Never mind the fact that they’d gotten a divorce nearly six years before he passed away. What she’d really lost was her cash cow. Meanwhile, I was left to grieve the greatest father who had ever lived and the only parent I’d ever known. My father, being a decent man and one who valued his time too much to spend it fighting with a woman over money, had kept Margaret—and thus Katie—in the lifestyle she had become accustomed to during the whopping three years they had been wed. It was something he’d done for all of his ex-wives— all five of them. And lastly, Katie would always call in March, usually about three weeks before her birthday. A friendly reminder that she still existed. How else would I know where to send her gifts?

I should have hated her. But I didn’t. I’d always wanted a sister, but after my mother had died, my father had refused to date women with kids. Don’t get me wrong. He’d loved me and my brother. But he’d had no desire to raise anyone else’s child or have any more of his own. It was his one rule when it came to relationships. That is until Margaret Spencer came along. I’d never understood his pull to her, but then again, I’d never questioned it. I was just so damn excited to finally have a sister, the step part being completely inconsequential as far as I was concerned. And, when I met Katie, I fell in love instantly. She wasn’t like her wicked witch of a mother. She was sweet, albeit a little quiet for my taste, but we got along well. Her mother never approved of me though. I played softball and rode horses. Generally any sport that involved dirt. Margaret preferred Katie to wear designer dresses while rubbing elbows with high society. My dad, however, encouraged my creativity and athletic endeavors. He once walked out on a multimillion-dollar deal because my team had advanced in a softball tournament. And, more times than I could count, he sat in a folding chair, dressed to the nines, not three feet from a pile of horse manure. Surrounded by two thoroughly disgusted bodyguards, he watched like a proud papa as I rounded barrels, my hair whipping in the wind behind me, a huge smile on my face. They were local shows, but he cheered like I’d won the Olympics when they presented me with that red ribbon. And, more often than not, it was only a second place out of six. Not exactly a huge accomplishment—unless you were my father. I was a daddy’s girl to the core. And I missed him. Daily. “Look, Mom is—” Katie started. I quickly stopped her. “I don’t have the money anymore, Katie. You know that. I haven’t written a book in over three months.” “Oh, come on, Rhion. You could call Mr. Higgins.” I could. But I promised I wouldn’t anymore. Guilt seeped into my stomach as I whispered, “I’m sorry, honey.” “Rhion,” she begged. “Her car… I mean, she—” “No.” Closing my eyes, I sucked in a painful breath. “I told you last time I couldn’t help anymore. I just don’t have the money.” “That’s not true and you know it. You could easily—” I flopped back onto my bed and stared up at the ceiling. “Is this all you called for?” She went silent. I could picture her perfectly painted red lips pursing in frustration. “No,” she gritted out. I smiled weakly. “Okay, then, so what’s new with you?” “Oh, not much. Just trying to figure out how to deal with mommy dearest.” My smile fell and I switched the phone to my other ear as I rolled to my side. Propping my elbow on the bed, I supported my head in my hand. “You know I’d help if I could.” Her voice softened, but her words might as well have been razor blades. “I’m not sure you would anymore. It feels a lot like you’ve forgotten about your family. But, unlike you, Rhion, I don’t have the ability to turn my back on her.” My whole body jerked. “Katie—” “Look, I have to go. We’ll talk soon.” I didn’t get a goodbye before she hung up. “Shit,” I groaned, my whole body sagging in defeat. Had I turned my back on Margaret? The answer was unequivocally yes. But I never would have done it to Katie. I’d sent her over five grand after I’d finished my last book. And the book before that. And the book before that. But I couldn’t do it forever. At some point, Margaret had to pull up her big-girl panties and stop

relying on me for everything. But maybe all I’d done was transfer that stress and responsibility to Katie. She was right. She couldn’t walk away. Despite the fact that her mother was a self-absorbed bitch, she was still her mother. I didn’t remember much about my mom, but even if my father had become a raging lunatic, there was not one thing I wouldn’t have done for him. Groaning to myself, I plucked my phone off the bed and hit number one on my favorites list. “Peter Higgins’s office,” she answered. A comfortable warmth wash over me at the sound of his name. “Hey, Sandy. It’s Rhion. Pete around?” “Oh, hey, baby. He’s in with a client. Anything I can help you with?” I sat up, twisted my blond hair over one shoulder, and inspected the ends. Absently, I replied, “Any chance you can wire Margaret ten thousand dollars?” “Crap,” she breathed. “I thought we were done with that.” “Yeah, I did too. But Katie called, and…” I trailed off. She knew the rest. Sandy Morris had been my father’s secretary for over twenty years. I guessed, if I really thought about it, she was the closest thing to a mother figure I had left. She now worked for my father’s former assistant, Pete. My dad and Pete had been incredibly tight. And, after Dad had passed away, he’d often served as yet another makeshift family member for me. His role: uncle. And the best damn uncle a girl could have. Pete’s loyalty hadn’t ended with my father. He’d been with me through thick and thin. Refusing to let go, even when I wanted to. He’d taken my father’s companies over a few years earlier. And, in that time, he’d advanced them to a whole new level. I might have provided him with the bricks by turning the family reigns over to him, but he’d more than paved his own path. “Hang on, Rhion. Let me grab Pete,” Sandy said, placing me on hold. I hadn’t made it through one song of the waiting music before I heard his voice across the line. “What’s up, kiddo?” I sat up straight and pulled my legs under me to sit cross-legged. “I need money.” “Writer’s block not budging?” he asked. I imagined his crooked grin as he raked his fingers through his perfectly styled salt-and-pepper hair. “No, it hasn’t budged. But the money’s not for me.” His gentle voice dropped to a warning. “Rhion.” “Please, Pete. I don’t know what’s going on. But I do know that Katie’s having a hell of a time dealing with her right now.” “And what I know is that she’s playing you.” I knew that too. “Maybe. But ten grand could really get her off Katie’s back for a while. And then maybe I could use that time to talk some sense into Katie.” “I don’t want you anywhere near her,” he ordered. I glowered at him through the phone. “I lived with Ursula for three years. I think I can handle a phone call to see if I can remove her slimy tentacles from her daughter.” “Jesus Christ, Rhion. I know you don’t see it, but I swear to you Katie is equally as toxic as Margaret. There is no helping either one of them. My concern is they’ll get their tentacles into you.” I should have been paying attention, but as I stared off into the distance, an idea struck me. A really fucking good idea too. The likes of one I hadn’t had in months. “Maybe I could recreate old fairytales and make the villains the heroines. Imagine if Maleficent falls for the handsome prince.” I suddenly jumped off the bed, inspiration firing through my veins like a surge of adrenaline. “Oh my God, Pete! It could be a series where I redeem the unredeemable. Where the roles of good and evil are reversed. I’ll show the good and decent parts of the villains and the broken and dark parts of the princes.” I wedged the phone between my head and my shoulder and snatched my computer off my nightstand. After prying it open, I typed a million miles a minute before the idea had the chance to

escape me. Pete chuckled on the other end of the line, but he knew the drill and waited for me to finish typing. “So, what do you think?” I asked excitedly. “Is there going to be sex in these?” “Of course. Who writes romance without a little sexy time?” His voice was teasing as he feigned frustration. “Just once, I wish you’d write something I could read.” I laughed. “What’s wrong, Pete? Not into the kinky stuff?” He groaned. “Not when I consider the woman writing it a daughter.” The feeling was mutual, and my heart swelled in my chest. “Rhion, if you want ten grand, it’s on its way. But I don’t want to know what you do with it or, more specifically, who you give it to. I’ll never tell you no, but that doesn’t mean I’ll give up trying to keep you from falling prey to the Spencers’ games. There’s a reason your father divorced Margaret. Please remember that.” “I know. But there was also a reason he married her and took care of her for those years before we lost him.” He sighed in defeat. “You always have had a bleeding heart.” He wasn’t wrong. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank me by coming to visit. And bring Johnson.” Now, that made me roll my eyes. “Johnson would rather jump off my balcony than fly to New York and be forced to go to dinner with you.” “Think about it, okay? I owe the man a scotch—or, more likely, a distillery.” “I’ll see what I can do,” I lied. “See what you can do about writing a wholesome book too.” I giggled. “Well, the good news is that, now that I’ve had this brilliant redemption idea, I won’t have to write that stepbrother male/male romance Brianna suggested this morning.” He began coughing loudly. “Jesus, Rhion. I’m an old man. You can’t say stuff like that to me.” I attempted to suppress a laugh but failed as I offered him a halfhearted, “Sorry.” “You always did enjoy torturing me.” He stated it seriously, but I could hear the smile in his voice. God, I missed him. I squeezed the phone tight as if he could feel it. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I’m getting another tattoo today.” “Where? You can’t possibly have more than three inches of blank skin left.” “I’ll surprise you with a picture when I’m done.” “I’ll be waiting on pins and needles,” he deadpanned. “Okay, kiddo. I need to go. Love you, and stay safe.” “Love you too, Pete.” I listened until he hung up, and then I wasted not a single second before grabbing my laptop. Three hours and five thousand words later, I called and postponed my tattoo. Ink could wait. Words would not.



“It’s four thirty in the morning here, Jude,” she said in a sleepy but still very bitchy voice. Sitting in the underground parking garage of a Chicago high rise, I gripped the steering wheel of my Jeep until my knuckles turned white. “Consider yourself lucky. I was gonna call at two thirty.” “Well, aren’t you generous,” she snipped. “What do you want?” “I wanna know why, when I checked my voicemails this morning, I had one from Val saying Kevin took her computer away last night.” “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Jude. She got in trouble for not doing her chores.” I ground my teeth and cracked my neck. “I swear to God, April. I will not repeat myself again. Working out is not a fucking chore.” “It is when you’re fat,” she shot back. God had not granted me the patience to deal with her bullshit. Between my nightmares of Butterfly and the new job, my mind was completely maxed out on shit to worry about without my ex-wife adding to it. This had been going on with April and Val for as long as I could remember. I thought I’d made my stance on the issue clear before I’d left for Chicago. Apparently, I had not. “She’s not fat!” I boomed. “Yes, she—” I willed my heart to slow in hopes that my blood pressure wouldn’t turn my head into a geyser. Shifting the phone to my other hand, I glanced around the parking garage to make sure no one was watching me. “What she is is a kid. There is not the first thing wrong with the way she looks. You need to pull your head out of your ass and stop trying to turn her into some socially warped version of perfection. That shit does not exist. And you and your workout schedule and fad diets are ruining the kind of perfect she already is.” “Oh yeah? She’s so perfect that she can’t even buy clothes in the juniors’ section anymore. What’s next? The plus-size stores? Fuck that. She’s eleven!” “That’s my point. She’s only eleven!” She laughed sardonically. “I’m not having this conversation with you. She knows she’s fat and she’s embarrassed about it. She hasn’t worn anything but sweatpants and a hoodie to school in weeks. She’s a girl, not a homeless man.” “April,” I growled. “Besides, according to the quiz I found online, she does not have a healthy BMI. She needs to lose some weight and that’s the end of it.” “You know, April, if I thought you were doing this because you were worried for her health, that would be one thing. But your only concern is what she looks like standing next to you. Now, cut the crap. Act like a mother, and better yet, while you’re at it, see if you can pull off the façade of a decent human being too.”

She gasped. “You’re such a dick.” I leaned back in my seat and straightened my suit coat. “Maybe I am, but I’m not the one fucking with a little girl’s head because I’m scared what my friends will say about her. Make Kevin give back her computer. And I mean first thing this morning. I find out you waited until tonight—” “Fuck off, Jude,” she snapped. “She’s my daughter. I’ll decide when she gets her computer back. The same way I decide if she needs to work out or not.” “Do not make me fly back this weekend,” I warned. She laughed. “Fly back and do what?” When she paused, I sucked in a sharp breath and braced, anticipating her signature blow. “She’s not yours!” “She is mine!” I roared. “Not in any way that counts,” she sneered. “In every fucking way that counts,” I corrected through clenched teeth. “Whatever. If you’re done bitching, I’m going back to sleep. Don’t forget to pay her school tuition and I’ll see what I can do about not forgetting to give her back her computer.” Before I could reply, she severed the connection. “Fuck!” I slammed the heel of my hand down onto the steering wheel. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I cursed in beat with my pounding. Giving up on the boxing match against my steering wheel, I cut the engine and then shoved the door wide. “Thirty minutes early?” a man called from across the garage as I folded out. “Excuse me?” I replied, checking over my shoulder to see if he was actually talking to me. “Come on, man. You’re gonna make the rest of us look bad.” A big guy in pair of navy slacks and a crisp, white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms smirked as he sauntered in my direction. His hair was cut short, the dark color suiting his olive complexion. With aviator sunglasses hooked on the front of his shirt, he looked every bit the role of the typical LA bodyguard. Tall, well built, menacing if he needed to be, but friendly enough for the clients to feel comfortable. He clicked a remote over his shoulder and the taillights of a white Acura NSX blinked behind him. Either he didn’t work for Leo James or he was being paid significantly more than I was. Stopping in front of me, he extended a hand my way. “Devon Grant.” I took his hand in a firm shake. “Jude Levitt.” One side of his mouth lifted into a cocky grin. “So I’ve heard. Leo briefed us yesterday.” I made a mental note to renegotiate my salary sooner rather than later. Scanning the nearly full garage, I noted I couldn’t possibly be the only one who liked to be punctual. “Sorry, but I’ll probably always be early.” He shrugged and turned toward the elevator. “Smart man. Johnson’s gonna shit though. He almost never gets breakfast, and now, with you here, that almost never will become just plain never.” I fell into stride behind him. “Breakfast?” He stopped at the elevator and pulled a card from his wallet before flashing it in front of a square sensor located where the up button would normally be. The door immediately slid open, and we both stepped inside. “Yeah. Leo’s wife makes breakfast on Mondays for our weekly briefing,” he answered. “We have muffins and bagels delivered for our Friday team meetings. Tuesday through Thursday, you’re on your own.” I leaned against the back wall of the elevator as it began its ascent to the fourth floor. “I already ate,” I said, tugging on the red tie attempting to strangle me. Devon’s dark-brown gaze flashed to mine, a humor-filled grin pulling at his lips. “You can lose the

tie. We’re pretty casual around here as long as we aren’t on duty. And, even then, I don’t think I’ve seen but one of the guys wear a tie. And it was a bow tie, so I’m pretty fucking sure that that travesty of fabric doesn’t count.” “Good to know,” I mumbled. The door opened and I followed Devon out into an open breezeway. The cool wind whipped past us, rendering the fifty-dollar product the chick at the salon had to talked me into buying and the twenty minutes I’d spent trying to make my chin-length, sandy-brown hair appear professional useless. I did my best to tuck it behind my ears as he led me toward the only door in the breezeway. “Leo will issue you your own security card. There’s an intercom at the elevator and the front door if you ever forget it though.” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Word of advice. Don’t fucking forget it. Chances are whoever is in the security room will leave you hanging as entertainment. And the colder it is or the harder it’s snowing, the longer you’ll wait.” He once again waved his card in front of a sensor beside the door and then pushed it open. As the scent of vanilla and bacon rushed out, Devon growled his approval and walked inside, holding the door wide for me to enter behind him. Inside, I got my first glance of Guardian Protection Agency. It was a far cry from the sterile business environment of my last job. Actually, it didn’t look like an office at all. Dark hardwood floors covered the expansive area. No walls divided the rooms, but overstuffed leather couches, complete with matching leather ottomans and a big screen TV, had been arranged to section off a living room. Behind it, a long, rectangular table surrounded by at least twelve chairs served to create a dining room. And, on the far right, an island with a black marble countertop and six barstools separated the dining room from the kitchen. But not just a regular kitchen you would expect to find in an office break room. I was no chef, but it didn’t take an expert to recognize that the stainless-steel appliances were all top of the line. “Shut the door. You’re letting out the warm—” a woman started only to stop when her eyes landed on me. A huge smile broke across her face. “You must be Jude,” she said, tugging a baby-blue apron that matched her eyes over her head. She smoothed down her long, blond hair and her fitted, black dress while heading in my direction. “I’m Sarah James. Leo’s wife.” “Jude Levitt. Nice to meet you.” I took her hand, and her returned shake was surprisingly firm. “Christ, you’re a tall one,” she stated. She was pretty damn tall herself, but at six-five, I towered over her. “Yes, ma’am,” I replied. Devon coughed loudly to cover an unmistakable laugh. “Ma’am?” she questioned in horror. I quickly amended. “I mean…yeah.” She shot me a blinding, white smile and patted me on the chest. “Better.” Spinning on a toe, she headed back to the kitchen. “Let me tell the rest of the guys breakfast is ready and I’ll get you some coffee.” Then she turned around and yelled to an empty room, “Breakfast is ready!” As if she’d rung the cowbell at feeding time, men began flooding in. Some offered me chin lifts, others gave me a pat on the back, and a few grunted, “What’s up?” as they passed. It seemed a table full of food was more interesting than the new guy. Devon shoved me on the shoulder when I didn’t fall in line behind the rest of the men. “Come on. Grab a plate. And drop the ma’am shit. Take it from me: Her biscuits and gravy are hell to eat off the floor.” I chuckled and, out of habit, rubbed my hand under my hair and over the scars on the back of my head. “Noted.” “So, I hear you moved here from LA?” he asked. I followed him to the end of the newly formed serving line. “Yeah. I was at PPS until they closed up

shop last month. Luckily, my name got passed over to Leo.” “No luck involved. Word is you’re good.” I shrugged. With a past like mine, I’d learned to follow protocol to a T. I couldn’t afford to have any more fuckups haunting me. I was barely surviving with the one I had. So, damn right I was good. However, so was Leo James. His agency was known throughout the country for his team of misfits and his unconventional take on personal security—which basically meant he got shit done for his clients and wasn’t above turning a blind eye to how it happened as long as, at the end, it was done. In my research, I’d found that turnover was virtually nonexistent for Leo, and clients eagerly sat on waitlists for over a year in order to work with his firm. It’d been a miracle I’d gotten the job at all. When Patterson’s Personal Security shut down, it left over fifty of California’s best scrambling for a position. Despite the fact that I’d been highly successful in my three-plus years working in personal security, I hadn’t figured I’d had a shot in hell at Guardian Protection’s only opening. Yet I’d been hired without so much as an interview. One day, I had been unemployed; the next, a new-hire packet had landed in my mailbox. Needless to say, I’d taken the job. “Word is right,” I confirmed. He nodded, picking up two floral plates and then passing one my way. “You’ll love it here. Leo’s good people. Though I should warn you. The bullshit here isn’t much better than the bullshit out in LA.” “Were you out there too?” I asked curiously. The flinch was almost imperceptible, but he wasn’t quick enough to hide it. “Yeah. Just some private security. No one special. Anyway…where are you living?” No one special my ass. As much as I wanted to press, I didn’t need anyone returning the favor and prying into my past. I shuffled forward with the line. “Currently? A hotel.” He sucked in a low whistle. “That’s gotta suck. Let me know if you need help finding a place. I’d be happy to ask around for you.” “That’d be great. I’m paying a small fortune to keep my shit in a storage unit.” He chuckled. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re gonna be paying a small fortune to keep your shit in your apartment when you get a place here.” I sighed. From what I’d seen on the market so far, he was not wrong. “You got a family?” he asked. I shook my head. “Divorced.” “Ouch. Well, a one-bedroom shouldn’t be too bad.” “Two bedrooms,” I corrected. He arched an eyebrow. “Kids?” How did I answer that? April and I had never had any kids. Thank the Lord for that miracle, considering she’d started trying without my knowledge before we had even gotten married. But I’d Jerry McGuire’d that woman so fucking hard. She’d had an eight-year-old when we first met, and truth be told, I fell in love with that little girl long before I did her mother. Despite the fact that we only stayed married for two years, Valerie was very much mine. “Something like that,” I mumbled evasively. “Gotcha,” Devon whispered, taking the hint and turning around to end the inquisition. When we reached the food, I took just enough not to seem rude and then made my way over to the seats, where Sarah had placed two cups of coffee. Devon settled beside me with a plate tall enough to rival Everest.

A loud wolf whistle sounded at the front of the room as Leo appeared, his arms filled with folders. “Where the fuck is Johnson?” he boomed, shaking his head and dropping the stack of files on the end of the table. “Can someone give him a call and tell him to get his ass in here? I don’t have all day.” It was an order, but not a single person reached for their phone. The new-hire packet had had a list of at least thirty numbers with specific instructions to program them into my phone. Aidan Johnson was one I remembered. After bringing up my contacts, I pressed send and then called out, “On it.” Swear to God I heard a round of forks hitting their plates and all eyes turned to me. “You must be Levitt.” Leo grinned and crossed his thick arms over his chest. “Yes, sir,” I replied, rising to my full height, my phone still held to my ear. “Nice to finally meet you, son. Patterson had great things to say about you.” The drone of an unanswered phone rang in my ear. “Thank you. I’m excited to be here.” His grin faded as the ringing was no longer only in my ear, but rather, behind me. Like right fucking behind me. I didn’t have time to react before my phone was snatched from my hand. I spun, coming face-to-face with a man who looked like he belonged on the inside of a jail cell more than he did leisurely standing in Guardian Protection. His eyes were so dark that I couldn’t see the pupils, and thick, black gauges stretched his ears. Short, dark hair covered his inked skull, those same tattoos running down the left side of his neck, into his collar, and out the sleeve of his black T-shirt, which barely stretched over his barrel chest. The ogre didn’t have me in height, but I didn’t have to look down to know he outweighed me. If Devon was the typical bodyguard, this guy would have been the black sheep never allowed to leave the security room. But there he stood, inches from my face, waves of pissed-off energy radiating off him. “Johnson, I assume,” I stated. He didn’t move. I blankly stared at him. “So this is how we’re gonna play it today?” “Who’s playing, Goldilocks?” I kept my expression tight. “Right. Because of the hair. Fucking ingenious.” He shrugged, and his lips split in a cocky grin. “Sit the fuck down.” “Give me my phone,” I demanded. He inched closer until our chests bumped. “Sit. The. Fuck. Down.” “Give. Me. My. Fucking. Phone.” His smile fell, and he menacingly narrowed his eyes. “You’re gonna need to have this phone surgically removed from your spleen if you don’t shut the fuck up and sit down.” Seriously? Was this the high school cafeteria? I maintained my stoic expression and retorted, “I’ll take my chances.” He chuckled humorlessly. “See, I was starting to like you for a minute there. But, now, you’re pissin’ me off.” I lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Sounds like a personal problem.” His jaw clenched. “Right. Well, now, it’s your problem too,” he said seconds before lifting his hand to the side and dropping my phone into my coffee cup. And there was my answer: Yes. Yes, we were in fucking high school. “Jesus Christ!” Leo boomed. I gave Johnson no reaction. Refusing to feed the beast, I held his stare without blinking. Dealing with egotistical assholes was a large part of my job description. And, while he wasn’t a client, the moment I’d walked through those doors, I had officially been on the clock. It was an inconvenient and completely unfortunate fact, considering that my fists ached to wipe the smug grin off his face as he sauntered away.

Closing my eyes, I sucked in a deep breath. Ten minutes in and I was already regretting my decision to blindly accept the job. It was bad enough I was homeless, missing Valerie, and running on a week’s worth of nightmare-induced sleepless nights. Now, I had to deal with this bullshit too? I opened my eyes when Leo called out to no one in particular, “Can someone get Jude a company phone?” He then stabbed a finger at Johnson. “That shit’s coming out of your check.” Johnson shrugged, not giving the first damn. “Right… I probably should have mentioned in the welcome packet that Johnson’s a dick before noon,” Leo muttered. Sitting back down, I mumbled, “Yeah. Thanks for the heads-up.” “Before noon?” Devon called. “Don’t lie to the man! He’s always a dick.” The room erupted into laughter. Johnson’s eyebrows shot up as he grabbed his crotch. “I got one you can suck, Devon.” Devon leaned back in his chair and casually crossed his legs ankle to knee. “I find myself in need of a toothpick, you’ll be the first to know.” “Oh God, Aidan,” Sarah groaned. “I’m standing right here.” “Sorry, babe,” Johnson said, giving her hip a squeeze before moving to the nearly empty buffet to make a plate. Leo shook his head and ran an exasperated hand through his thick, black hair. “Everyone got that shit out of their system? We gonna pretend to be grown-ass men now so I can get started?” Johnson sauntered over behind me, used his fork to stab a piece of bacon off my plate, and then propped himself on a shoulder next to the window. “By all means, boss man. Get to it.” Leo pinned him with a pointed scowl. “As I was saying.” He dropped his gaze to me. “Welcome to Guardian Protection, Jude.”



I. Was. Back. I’d written nearly thirty thousand words in the last four days. It wasn’t exactly a record for me. I’d once written an entire eighty-thousand-word book in four days. I also hadn’t slept, eaten, or showered, but as far as I was concerned, it was a small price to pay for typing The End. However, these recent words were more cherished than most. Because they came after an eight-week dry spell. For some, a few weeks off after finishing a book was considered a well-deserved break. But writing was my job. How I earned my money. How I kept my sanity. Coincidentally, it was also what drove me insane. But that’s neither here nor there. Writing was who I was. And, for anyone, losing such a huge piece of themselves would be staggering. For me, it was agony. It gave me time to think. About the future. And worse—the past. But, thanks to Margaret’s latest stunt, I’d found myself again. It was worth every single penny of the ten grand I’d sent her on Tuesday. It was now Friday—the one day a week when I dropped everything and carved out much-needed time for myself. I would force myself to do my hair, put on makeup, pants without an elastic waistband, and a pair of kickass heels, and get the hell out of my apartment. And, this morning, I’d done just that. Well, minus the hair, as I’d scheduled an appointment for later that afternoon. I was standing at the elevator, juggling a mile-high pile of breakfast pastries, bagels, and several vats of cream cheese when the door to the stairway slammed closed. I breathed a sigh of relief as his heavy footfalls approached. “Little help here,” I called out. And then my entire body locked when a tattoo-free arm stretched toward me. It was only the briefest of seconds before I recognized his voice. But it was more than enough time for my heart to lurch into my throat and all the blood to drain from my face. “Shit. Are you okay?” Devon asked, taking the boxes from my hands. I mentally chastised my overactive imagination and did my best to get myself back together. “Yeah. I’m good.” I added a laugh to really sell it. He eyed me warily for a moment but then let it go. “Why don’t you have this shit delivered to us instead of carrying it down from your apartment?” I pasted on a snarky smile. “Because then everyone would stop asking me that question. I’ve grown

quite fond of it over the last two years.” Yes, I could have had breakfast delivered to the door of Guardian Protection. It wasn’t like the bakery would charge me an extra delivery fee for going one floor up. But, if I did that, I wouldn’t have gotten to spend the morning bullshitting with my guys before they had to head out on their assignments. Writing was a solitary career, but with Guardian so close, I’d never felt alone. Leo and the entire Guardian crew had adopted me the day Johnson had first escorted me through the front doors. They’d never looked back. And neither had I. I dug my access card from my back pocket and waved it in front of the elevator sensor. “Where’s Johnson?” Devon looked down at me and grinned. “He got busy, so he sent me to help your stubborn ass bring up breakfast.” “Is everything okay?” I asked. His teasing grin warmed reassuringly. “Your little boyfriend’s fine. We’ve got a new guy and he and Leo were prepping him for his first assignment.” I nodded, unconvinced. Aidan Johnson was never too busy for me—even when he was. I tapped the toe of my red-soled pump against Devon’s dress shoe. “You might not want to let him hear you calling him my little boyfriend.” When the elevator arrived, I took a step inside, holding my arm in the door so it wouldn’t shut. “But thanks for helping,” I said. “There’s a special chocolate croissant in it for you.” His mouth fell open as he slowly turned his head to me. “So that’s why he helps you every week.” I laughed and pressed the button. “Actually, no. I do strip aerobics on Friday mornings before breakfast. He likes to come watch.” His dark eyes widened as he breathed, “Shut the fuck up. Seriously?” I shook my head and laughed harder. “No. It’s totally the chocolate croissant.” He bumped me with his shoulder. “I was about to be pissed I was missing the show.” “You should be. I’m fucking killer on a pole. I’ve won the Chicago Strip Club Championship for three years in a row.” The elevator door opened and I exited. Devon didn’t follow me. “No fucking way.” “Don’t look so surprised. If it hadn’t been for that trifling ho oiling the stage, it would have been four years in a row.” The shock remained on his face as he slowly stepped out of the elevator. “Did you just call someone a trifling ho?” I nodded and kept talking over my shoulder as I walked toward the door. “Yep. And don’t get me started on the year before, when she sabotaged me by putting fiberglass in my body glitter. I was itching for a week. I swear, if I hadn’t been sleeping with three of the judges, I wouldn’t have had a shot in hell that year.” I smiled to myself when his footsteps came to a sudden halt. “You’re fucking with me,” he stated in disbelief. “I wish I were.” I flashed my card at the door and pushed it wide, a rush of warm air enveloping me. There was something about Guardian Protection that eased my soul in ways I hadn’t experienced since my father had died. It was more than just a security firm. Inside that apartment-slash-office, I felt a luxury I had rarely been afforded over the last few years—absolute safety. No one could touch me when I was with my guys. Not even Apollo. Devon walked straight to the table and set the mountain of boxes down before turning back to me.

“I’m calling bullshit.” “You can call whatever you want, but I’ve never been able to trust glitter again.” He narrowed his eyes, and a wicked grin pulled at one side of his mouth. “See, as much as I think you’re full of shit, I’m really enjoying the idea of Rhion the stripper.” “Watch your fucking mouth, Grant. Let me hear you call her a stripper again,” was drawled in a Southern accent behind me. I turned to find Alex striding my way. I could have used a lot of colorful adjectives to describe the men of Guardian Protection. But there was only one way to describe Alex Pearson: strong and silent. He was Mr. All-American. Clean cut. Southern gentleman. Former college football player. Handsome in that boy-next-door way. Well, that is if you lived next door to a family of giants. Alex was fucking HUGE. Six-six and, I swear, nearly as wide as he was tall. I craned my head back. “Good morning to you, too.” He went straight to the box of bagels, reached in, and pulled three out. “How’d Bible study go this morning?” “Bible study!” Devon laughed, arching his eyebrow at me. “Was this before or after the strip show?” “Who’s stripping?” Braydon asked, sauntering in and reaching around Alex to grab a muffin from the pastry box. Braydon Hughes was the youngest of the Guardian crew. He was tall and well-built but much more on the lanky side of the spectrum compared to Alex. While Braydon and I weren’t particularly close, I still thought he was extremely charming and a blast to hang out with. So much so that I managed to overlook the fact that he was a raging womanizer. Though I probably should have been offended that he’d never hit on me. Not even before he had known that Johnson would have ripped his arms off. “No one,” Alex growled at the same time Devon answered, “Rhion.” Braydon smirked, popping his sexy, sexy—dear God, it bears repeating—sexy dimple. “What happened? You getting out of the cake-decorating business?” “We got cake today?” Lark asked, lifting the lid on the box. His thick shoulders fell when he found the usual. “Sorry,” I laughed at his disappointment. The man loved his sweets. “Have an apple fritter,” I suggested. Jeremy Lark was the resident family man at Guardian. He had to have been at least forty, but he still had a head full of thick, auburn hair. He loved to brag about it to all of the guys who had so much as a hint of a receding hairline. He’d settled down later in life, saying he hadn’t found the right woman before. And, clearly, he still hadn’t, because six months ago, he’d gotten a divorce. It made me a bad person, but I was happy at the news. Mainly because his ex-wife was a raging bitch. But also because he had threeyear-old twin girls he got from their mother every other weekend. And, if Lark was called in on one of those days, he’d drop the girls off with me. I got a whole day of princesses, ponytails, junk food, and painted nails. “Rhion’s apparently a stripper. But don’t worry. She manages to fit this in between running a Bible study and her cake-decorating business,” Devon filled in. Lark tipped his head to the side and then asked around a mouthful of fritter, “Does that mean you’re giving up the tattoo shop?” I laughed as they all stared at me. They were thoroughly perplexed but not fazed enough to stop shoving food into their mouths. I turned to make my escape. “Right. Well, I should probably let Johnson know breakfast is here.” Devon caught my arm. “Not until you reward me for my chivalry by way of a chocolate croissant.” “Don’t you dare give that asshole my croissant,” Johnson rumbled as he rounded the corner. I spun to face him, my smile growing wide as I laid eyes on him. Aidan Johnson was hot in the most

unorthodox way possible. He may not have resembled the Prince Charming little girls dreamed about, but he’d never once walked into a room without turning the head of every woman there. He sure as hell had turned mine the day he had shown up at my door, reporting for duty. “Sorry. A deal is a deal.” I made a show of lifting the pastry in the air like a precious jewel and then presenting it to Devon with a bow while whispering, “He who helps me shall receive the coveted chocolate croissant.” Devon didn’t waste a second before taking a huge bite and flashing Johnson a closed-mouth, chewing grin. I giggled as Johnson scowled at both of us, but his hand dropped to my lower back as he leaned past me to grab a bagel. “Where ya been hiding?” he asked. “I was about to bust your door down. We seriously need to talk.” I swung my gaze around the room and then whispered, “I’ve been…working.” A sparkle of understanding hit his eyes. “Oh yeah?” I nodded enthusiastically. His hard face softened, and a smile that warmed me from the inside out pulled at his lips. “Finally.” He lifted the bagel to his mouth and clamped it between his teeth as he went back for two of the muffins. “Any chance you can enlighten us on what exactly that work is?” Braydon asked. Johnson removed his bagel from his mouth and replied, “Computer hacker.” “Bullshit,” Devon groaned. Lark, Braydon, and Alex all mumbled a similar sentiment. I ignored them. Tipping my head back to catch Johnson’s attention, I asked, “Everything okay this morning?” He stopped chewing and arched a thick, black eyebrow. “Why do you ask?” “Because Devon is currently eating your specially requested chocolate croissant for the very first time in over two years.” He settled the muffins on a napkin and folded the edges over so he could carry them in one hand. “I’ve been helping Leo prep the new guy. Speaking of, I gotta get going.” He started to back away. “Hey, I’m home this weekend. You and me need to have a talk. Wanna grab a drink tonight?” “Sounds like a plan,” Devon answered. “I’m free,” Braydon added. Alex sighed. “All right. If everyone is going, I’m in.” Johnson glared at them. “I was talking to Rhion.” “You know, I could get a sitter. Maybe come out after the girls go to bed,” Lark announced, ignoring Johnson. “Guys’ night out!” I exclaimed before turning my best doe eyes on Johnson. “And me!” It could be said that Johnson wasn’t exactly the most social person. Group activities were as high on his list of desires as an unmedicated root canal. However, he knew I’d been struggling recently and he lacked the ability to tell me no. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, muttering, “For fuck’s sake. Yeah. Fine. Whatever.” He waved his handful of muffins in the air and pointed them at the guys. “Work out the details with these assholes and let me know.” I smiled in victory. “Thanks, sweetie.” “Don’t thank me yet. First round’s on you.” I nodded—like a million times. “I can do that.” Shaking his head, he turned around and started out of the room, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t forget to pick up your paycheck from the slaughterhouse.” My lips stretched so wide that I feared my smile would swallow my face.

The guys broke out into a symphony of disgust and disbelief. “Thanks for the reminder! Have a good day, and stay safe. Remember to look both ways before you cross the street, and don’t talk to strangers.” He offered a salute with his bagel before disappearing out the door.



I watched from the passenger seat as Leo scrolled through his phone, stopping every once in a while to type out a message. The engine on the black Escalade was running, but he’d not even put it in reverse in the over fifteen minutes we’d been sitting there. And that didn’t include the twenty minutes I’d been waiting in the parking garage before he had come down. “Anything I can help with?” I asked. He kept his eyes on his phone. “Nah. Just killing time answering some e-mails.” Killing time? We were supposed to be on our way to my first assignment. It wasn’t much. One of Leo’s bigwig clients’ kids was having a sixteenth birthday party and I’d been chosen for the elite position of working security. I could only imagine that meant making sure the nerds didn’t sneak in, the goths weren’t too goth, and none of the wannabe socialites spiked the punch. But, after the week I’d had, I would have tripped over my own dick while racing to volunteer for the job just to get out of that godforsaken office. “Gotcha,” I replied, scrubbing my palms over my slacks and going back to staring at the cracks on the cement wall of the parking garage. It was official. I hated this job. And, to make matters worse, I still hadn’t found an apartment that wasn’t a hellhole in my price range. You would think that, coming from LA, I’d have been used to being robbed on rent. Oh, but Chicago was a different kind of criminal. Even a place in the burbs was insane. As the days ticked on, I regretted more and more the decision to come back to Illinois. I couldn’t sleep. My Butterfly had been haunting me more in the last week than she had in years. Every time I closed my eyes, I watched her fall. And, thanks to Johnson’s stunt with my phone, at first, I couldn’t even call Valerie—the only one who knew about the nightmares. Luckily, midweek, I’d been able to get a new personal phone and recover her number by using the digital voodoo known as The Cloud. Talking to her helped in some ways, but in other ways, it made it worse. I never should have left her in LA. Right as I decided to shoot her a text, Leo caught my attention. “Finally,” he muttered, dropping his phone into the cup holder and then yanking the truck into reverse. Thank. Fuck, I thought. Well, that was until I caught sight of a pair of black gauges in the side mirror. “Here,” Johnson said, climbing into the backseat and then shoving a fist full of muffins between the two front seats. Oh hell no. This is not fucking happening. Leo eagerly took one. But I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’m good.” “Take the goddamn muffin,” Johnson pressed. Propping my hand on the back of Leo’s driver seat, I turned all the way around, giving Johnson my full attention. “I said I’m good.”

He cocked his head to the side, his hard jaw turning to granite. “You got a fucking problem, Levitt?” I did. I so fucking did. Johnson had been riding my ass since our run-in on Monday. It wasn’t like I’d never worked with a prick before though. Hell, in LA, there were more pricks than not. I’d become quite skilled at ignoring the office bullshit. However, not even I was skilled enough to ignore the boss. Yep. My boss. Such was my shitty luck. As it turned out, Aidan Johnson was not only Leo’s best friend, but also his number two at Guardian Protection. From what I’d gathered, Leo handled the clients while Johnson managed the men. Needless to say, this made his fucking with me exponentially easier. On Tuesday, I’d shown up at a quarter to seven only to realize I’d never been issued a security card. I stood in the garage for a full hour, pressing the buzzer on the elevator to no avail, before one of the other guys showed up. Fun fact I’d also not been told: Work starts at eight. Seven is only on Mondays for the weekly meeting. When I finally walked through the front door, it was approximately two minutes past eight, and Johnson then chewed my ass for being late on the second day. I refused to leave that day without a card for the elevator and the front door. Conveniently, Johnson stayed locked in his office all afternoon. It was seven p.m. before he got his shit together and gave me one. I shouldn’t have been surprised when I showed up on Wednesday and the damn thing didn’t work. Yet, somehow, I still was. When I finally gotten through the front door—a mere sixty seconds before the clock struck eight—I was informed that my new-hire paperwork had been misplaced. I sat in Leo’s office for two goddamn hours, filling out a second set. No sooner than I was on the last page, Johnson sauntered in with a file folder in his hand, stating he’d found it. Sure, this could have been some clerical error, but the wink Johnson tossed my way as he let me know he’d rearranged the guys in order to cover my assignment for the day—my first assignment—said otherwise. It all worked out though. At least according to him, because I got to spend the rest of the day in his office, watching actual VHS tapes about sexual harassment and professionalism. Then, on Thursday, my new access card miraculously worked after I’d gotten there at six thirty to ensure I got inside on time. When he rolled in at well past nine, he let me know that he’d “forgotten” to tell me that I was being trained in the security room that night—at eleven p.m. So, basically, I’d hauled my ass up there for no reason other than for him to fuck with me. I happily went home and then dragged myself back up there at eleven only to find out there was a full-time staff in the security room and the guys who worked in the field—like myself—were barely allowed to step foot in there, much less “train” on how to work the equipment. So yeah, when I’d shown up this morning, I’d been exhausted and sick of his bullshit. And, boss or not, I was done taking it. Holding his gaze, I seethed, “Sorry. I missed the page in the employee handbook where not eating a fucking muffin was a problem.” He regarded me impassively as he stated, “Page twelve. Paragraph three.” I gritted my teeth. “You know what? Fuck you.” “Jesus Christ, what the hell is with you two?” Leo chimed in. “It’s a goddamn muffin, not arsenic. I’ll eat it.” “Why are you here?” I asked. He shrugged. “Making sure you don’t fuck this up.” My blood boiled. “It’s a kid’s birthday party. I’m relatively sure I can handle it.” He grinned arrogantly. “See, I’m not sure I agree.” “What is your fucking problem with me?” I kept my gaze locked on Johnson but turned my words to Leo. “No disrespect, Leo. I appreciate the opportunity. But I’m done with the games. You want to ride

along and introduce me to your client? Great.” I jerked my chin toward Johnson. “But I don’t need a babysitter. Either you need to have a word with your partner here or I’m going to have to seek employment elsewhere.” Johnson clapped his hands. “Fan-fucking-tastic idea.” “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa,” Leo said, slamming the truck back into park. “What the hell is going on here?” Johnson opened his mouth, but I got there first. “In short, I’m quitting or you’re kicking this piece of shit out of the car.” Leo’s head snapped back, an impressed grin twitching at his lips. “Oh, really?” I shoved my door open and returned his glare. “Really. I wanted to be here. To work for the best —with the best. But I’ve been here a week and, with the exception of having to replace my phone, spending an entire afternoon watching bad ’80s sexual harassment videos, and getting my chain yanked around about my schedule, I’ve done not one thing productive. I appreciate the opportunity. I do. But, if this is how you operate, maybe I’m not a good fit for Guardian.” Leo blinked at me for several seconds. Then, using his thumb and his forefinger, he wiped around the corners of his mouth before lifting his gaze to the rearview mirror. “Sexual harassment videos?” Johnson smirked. “Found ’em on Ebay. Cheap as shit. Overnight shipping was a bitch though. The hardest part was finding a VCR. That damn thing cost me a fucking mint.” His grin faded as he leaned back in the seat and folded his thick arms over his chest. “Besides, I think it would be good for all the guys to watch ’em.” This. Motherfucker. Leo continued to stare at him in the mirror. “The only female employee we got is my wife. Someone sexually harasses her, they end up jobless and, more than likely, lifeless. I think we’re safe.” “Can’t ever be too safe,” Johnson replied sardonically. Leo’s eyes narrowed on his friend. “You gonna tell me what this is really about?” “Nope,” he replied curtly. “Right.” Leo snatched the truck into reverse. “Shut the door, son.” I shook my head. “I’m not doing this.” “Yeah, you are.” He threw his arm around the back of my seat and angled to see out the back glass as he gunned it out of the parking spot. I was barely able to get the door closed before it took off the side mirror of Braydon’s BMW parked next to us. (I definitely needed to ask for that raise.) “Fuck, man,” I growled. “So here’s how this is going down. You two are gonna patch this shit up.” “I’m—” I started, but that’s as far as I made it. “I’ve known Johnson for a lot of years. He can be a short-tempered bastard, but there isn’t a man in my office who would think twice about taking a bullet for him.” He kept his gaze pointed out the windshield as he pulled into traffic. “You know why that is, Levitt?” Because apparently Guardian Protection is the only place the mentally insane can find employment? He didn’t wait for me to respond. “Because they know he’d take a bullet for them. No questions asked.” My eyes nearly rolled out of my head as Johnson reached forward and patted Leo’s shoulder. Being a mall cop had never sounded more appealing than it did in that moment. And, if I quit this job, that might be exactly what I’d have had to do for a while. I doubted that would come close to covering my monthly bills. But, then again, I wouldn’t have had to pay an attorney to defend me on assault charges. “That’s great news,” I smarted. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I am not one of those men. I appreciate the opportunity to work for you, but this childish bullshit is not what I signed on for.”

“You’re right.” he answered immediately. “Which is why Johnson will be working in Indianapolis for the next few weeks while you settle in.” “The fuck you say!” Johnson boomed. Leo once again found his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, I do fucking say.” My surprised gaze jumped to Leo. Holy. Shit. Did that just swing my way? He kept talking to Johnson. “If you got a reason to hate him, it’s probably a good one. However, the fact that you are not willing to share this information means you know damn well it’s not enough for me to fire him. So I’ll repeat: You’ll be working with Slate and Erica in Indy until you can let this go. I’ve got a business to run, and providing you with maxi pads is not in the budget. Sort your shit. Do your fucking job. And stop fucking with Levitt while he does his. Yeah?” Victory sang in my veins, and the fact that it still came with a paycheck made it even sweeter. Surprisingly enough, Johnson didn’t say anything else. He did, however, burst into laughter, adding to my suspicions about the mental status of the Guardian staff. Those suspicions were confirmed when Leo joined him. What the hell did I get myself into?

The moment we arrived at the hotel hosting the party, Johnson disappeared through the lobby. I didn’t pretend to care. I did, however, watch my six until I was sure he was out of the area. Leo spent the morning introducing me to his client, a professional basketball player with absolutely no concept of reality. It wasn’t my job to judge him though, or I’d have been in the unemployment line years ago. It was my responsibility to find out the specifics of what he needed and then get down to business to fulfill those needs. That night, those needs were to stand guard at the door to make sure no one got in or out without permission. In the last few years, I’d taken a knife to the gut for a client, apprehended a stalker, stopped a home invasion, and a myriad of other admirable duties. And now… I was a glorified bouncer at a sweet-sixteen party. And to think, I’d actually thought this position could have been a step up in my career. As the night wore on, it was clear my job was also to be the only responsible adult at the entire fucking party while the others huddled around the open bar. By the time it was all said and done, I’d broken up four different fights—only three of those had been between kids—and thrown out two kids for smoking and countless kids for drinking. To top it all off, on two separate occasions, I’d had the stomachchurning pleasure of walking in on a couple having sex in the bathroom. One couple was way too young, the other way too fucking old. I had gone from feeling like a pedophile to a necrophiliac in the span of an hour. The party had started at six and was supposed to run into the night, but shortly past eight, the hotel shut it down. As I walked out and hailed a cab, I swore that, first thing in the morning, I was scheduling a vasectomy. I scrolled through my phone on the way back to my hotel and found a few new messages I’d missed

throughout the day. One from my mom, who was asking for my Thanksgiving plans. Considering that it was September, the only plan I had was eating turkey and watching football. The next was from my ex-wife, April. I didn’t bother to read that one. I skipped right to the next. Valerie: Be careful at the new job tonight. I love you and miss you. I scoffed. If she only knew the level of danger I was facing. It was only six in LA. She’d be at softball practice. I smiled to myself as I typed. Me: Love you too, beautiful. I’ll call you in a little bit. And don’t worry. I’ll see you in a few weeks. I made a mental note to talk to Leo—not Johnson—about what I could expect from my schedule over the next few weeks. Maybe I could volunteer for some overnights in order to get a four-day weekend to visit her. I scrolled to the last text. Devon: Drinks at Murphy’s. Get your ass up here when you finish. I liked Devon. He was the only person I had remotely resembling a friend in Chicago. And he’d been able to help me find an apartment. I couldn’t move in for a few weeks, and I fully intended on asking him to help me when I did. The least I could do was buy him a drink first. Me: OTW. Where the fuck is Murphy’s? Devon: Bar across the street from the office. Now, that was convenient.



This was a terrible idea. A real motherfucking calamity. “Can I get you a drink?” the bartender asked as I nervously stared at my phone. Johnson was late. He should have been there before I’d even walked in. My lungs burned more with every breath I wasn’t taking. I looked up and plastered on something that I hope resembled a smile. “You’re new.” An all-too-familiar glint lit his eyes. “I am. You come here often?” “The fact that I knew you were new should be answer enough,” I teased in an effort to slow my racing heart. It didn’t work. A cold chill crept up my spine as I frantically surveyed the bar. Oh God. I can’t breathe. “Touché,” he replied, but I barely heard him over the blood thundering in my ears. I should go. He’ll be here any minute. I have to go. He’d want me to wait. Oh God. Where is he? “I…um.” My throat closed, but I forged ahead. “I’ll…have a beer. Whatever craft you have on tap.” Instead of rushing off to get me said beer, he shot me a flirty grin and leaned his hip on the bar. “A girl after my own heart.” I remained silent and concentrated on the intense need to peel out of my own skin. When he failed to take the not-so-subtle hint, I squeaked, “Any chance I can get the beer sans your heart?” “And she’s funny,” he mumbled, his grin widening. A man with white-blond hair caught my attention on the other side of the bar. I jumped to my feet and reached for my purse and my sweater on the back of my chair. Nope. Nope. Nope. I can’t do this. Johnson’s voice rumbled behind me at the same time his large palm landed on my back. “That she is,” he told the bartender. I clutched his forearm, digging my nails into his flesh as I tamped a relieved sob down. My shoulders fell and the massive weight on my chest disappeared, allowing the glorious, stale bar air to fill my lungs. “Sorry I’m late. ” He kissed my forehead. I turned my head and brushed away a tear of relief that had managed to escape. “You did good,” he whispered. I cut my gaze to him. “Were you watching me?” He grinned and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Since you got off the elevator.”

I blew a ragged breath out and equal parts laughed and cried, “You’re an asshole!” “Maybe. But you did good,” he semi-repeated before settling his large body onto the barstool beside me. “I’ll have whatever she’s having,” he said to the bartender. The bartender remained frozen, flashing a surprised gaze between us. It was the typical reaction to meeting Johnson. He was a tad scary at first glance. He finally walked away, mumbling, “Coming right up.” I sucked in a deep breath and did my best to swallow the lingering anxiety. I opted for a joke, but it still came out shaky. “I ordered a cosmo.” Johnson knowingly twisted his lips. “Bullshit.” I giggled, which did wonders to help my heart return to a non-marathon pace. So much so that, when Johnson grinned at me, I was able to genuinely return it. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Devon heading our way. “Nice hair,” he said when he got close. My teal tips from this morning had been transformed to red thanks to a much-needed visit from my stylist. “Thanks, Devon.” I reached up over my shoulder and patted his chest. He whistled across the bar and then snapped his mouth shut when the bartender turned to face him. “Shit. You’re new.” “So I’ve been told,” the bartender retorted. “Well, as long as you know,” Devon quipped, settling onto the barstool on my other side. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.” I kept my face unreadable as I lied, “I ordered an Appletini.” “Yeah. Right.” He pulled a bowl of peanuts in front of him and peered up at the TV. “Any games on tonight?” I shrugged and turned in time to see Lark and Alex laughing as they strolled in. “Red. I like it,” Alex said quietly, tugging at the ends of my hair. “Thanks,” I laughed, swatting his hands away. Lark shrugged his coat off and then slung it over a barstool before calling out, “We’ll have two more of whatever she’s having. But bring mine with a shot of tequila on the side.” I rolled my eyes. “I ordered a Sex on the Beach. With two pink umbrellas.” Alex grunted something that obviously translated to bullshit. Lark ignored me altogether. “One day, I’m going to do it. And then I’m taking pictures of you guys drinking them and passing them around the office.” It was a lie. I’d never order that fruity shit. I was a beer girl through and through. It was my favorite thing about Murphy’s—well, that and the fact that it was literally across the street from my apartment. Every week, they offered a new craft beer. Some of them were amazing. Some were absolute shit. But I adored trying them all. The bartender appeared with our beers, and I slid them down until everyone had one. I was turning to clank mine with Johnson when Devon stopped me. “Wait. Wait. Wait. I have a toast.” He smiled wide and lifted his beer in the air. “To Johnson’s cranky ass being sent to Indy for two weeks!” “Hear, hear,” came from the guys. But my mouth dried as I slung my head in his direction. “You’re leaving? For two weeks?” Devon kept talking, but Johnson shot him a murderous glare that snapped him to silence. When his gaze returned to mine, his face had softened, and his voice came out as a gentle whisper. “Not a full two weeks—”

“Why? I thought…” I trailed off, anxiety crawling up my throat. I hated it when he left. He was out of town almost every weekend, working down in Indy for some championship boxer. I’d adapted to that by spending my weekends locked in the apartment. But two full weeks? I felt the color drain from my face. “Breathe,” he urged. “It’s only a couple of days. I’ll come back on Wednesday.” My stomach ached as I held his dark stare with pleading eyes. “A couple of days?” He flinched but quickly locked it down. “Back on Wednesday.” It was a promise. And I knew he’d follow through, but that didn’t change the guilt that pooled in my stomach. “I’m sorry,” I breathed. “I’m trying…” He shook his head and clanked his beer with mine. “I know. And you did good. Let’s just drink our beers and worry about the rest later.” It should be said, for as moody and grumpy and short-tempered as Johnson was, beneath it all, he was also a great guy. I smiled weakly and held his gaze as we both lifted our drinks to our lips. And then I burst into laughter as he spit it across the bar. “What the fuck!” he growled, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Is that grape-flavored?” I laughed so hard that I nearly fell off my stool. It was safe to say the craft beer that night was absolute shit. Yet, as I watched the guys laughing and Johnson banging his fist on the bar and barking at the bartender for a round of Buds, I decided that it was exactly what I needed. I sucked in a huge breath and filled my lungs with the brief moments of my life that didn’t overwhelm me. Johnson was right. I could deal with the rest later. Only, as I turned to the side in order to steal one of Devon’s peanuts, I realized that later wasn’t actually a measurement of time. It was nothing more than a word tossed around to lull you into a false sense of security. The past always had a way of working its way into the present. And, as I met his blazing, green gaze, I knew that later had found me. “Butterfly?” he whispered.



Time slowed the moment our gazes met. She didn’t move. Not even an inch. But neither did I. Blink. A million words hung in the air around us, but not a single syllable fell from either of our mouths. She was different than I remembered. And not because, when I’d first walked in, her head was thrown back in laughter instead of hanging down while tears streamed from her chin. Blink. And not because she was sitting on a barstool, drinking a beer, rather than perched on the narrow ledge of a burning house. Blink. And not because her hair was blond with red accents, not a hint of black soot staining it. Blink. And not because her arms weren’t spread out to her sides in a hospital bed, raw with third-degree burns, but rather covered in full sleeves of brightly colored tattoos. Blink. No. She looked different because, for the first time since I’d met her that night four years earlier, she was alive and not struggling to survive. Her lips thinned uncomfortably as she rose from her stool and took a step toward me. I believe words were spoken around us. However, as I focused on her mouth, I heard nothing but the ease in which she breathed. No coughing. No choking. Just… Breathing. Blink. And then, with one flash of her gaze over my shoulder, that vibrant light dancing in her pale-blue eyes exploded into a million shades of darkness. Blink. “No,” she breathed, stumbling back into her stool, knocking it over. I instinctively glanced over my shoulder but saw no one of note. Johnson rose beside her, his hand going to her bicep. Blink. And then, all at once, time caught up. The bar detonated into a flurry of activity. “Don’t you dare!” Devon shouted to someone.

“Motherfucker,” Alex cursed. “Rhion!” Johnson yelled as she bolted toward the entrance. I wanted to open my arms. To finally catch her. But, like in the past, I stood motionless as I watched her fly away. Johnson’s shoulder slammed into mine as he rushed after her, Alex only steps behind him. Devon, however, charged to the other side of the bar, shoving customers out of his way. I shook my head and turned back in time to see her disappear out the door. I blinked again, and much like the first time we’d met, she was gone. One blink was all it ever took for me to lose her. “Rhion,” I whispered to myself, rubbing my hand over the scars on the back of my head as if it could erase the memories. “Oh fuck!” Lark barked, plowing over a stool and several people as he raced outside. I followed him with my gaze, and the second I saw her, my throat locked up tight. No air in. No air out. Just a bullet of panic ricocheting in my hollow chest. “No.” I breathed, storming to the bar’s glass door, praying that my eyes were deceiving me. But they weren’t. I’d recognize that woman anywhere, but especially in the middle of the busy fourlane Chicago street with cars swerving around her. Adrenaline blasted through my veins, traveling straight to my legs. I was out the door before I’d realized my feet were moving. “Rhion!” Johnson bellowed, slamming his fists down onto the hood of a car that had nearly clipped him. Alex was doing his best to stop traffic, but they were flying around him, turning that street into a reallife game of Frogger. The roar of blood thundered in my ears as I darted out into traffic, weaving in and out of cars as I made my way toward her. I was acting on pure instinct, unable to process the fact that she was actually there. Much less that I was at risk of losing her. Again. Her motions were frantic as she raced away, but her head didn’t swing from side to side with caution or respect for the oncoming cars. Getting to the other side of that street as quickly as possible was her only concern. Meanwhile, getting to her was mine. People were yelling. Horns were blaring. Brakes were squealing. But her feet kept moving. Therefore, so did mine. My mind fought to remain in the present, but the closer I got, I no longer saw a woman in the middle of traffic. I saw a wounded butterfly with flames closing in all around her. Bile rose in my throat as I sucked in a gasp of the cool night air. Only it was smoke that filled my lungs, a searing pain that formed at the back of my neck, and a blast of heat that threatened to take me to the ground. And then a deep, guttural sound tore through me, shredding me from the inside out as I watched her fall. Again. “No!” I yelled as she hit the pavement. Cars locked their brakes up and swerved onto the curb to try to avoid her. In that moment, I longed for the slow motion of when our gazes had met because it was all happening so fast that I could barely keep her in my sights. I lurched toward her, but I’d never reach her in time. A fact that burned so deeply it felt like my soul had been dipped in acid.

I’d failed her. Again. Johnson, however, did not. With one swoop, he hooked his arm around her waist and lifted her off the ground, her colorful wings dangling at her sides as he held her to his chest, her terrified, blue eyes finding mine over his shoulder. Her shaking hand reached out to me, and her lips moved in the pattern of my name. The idea that she needed me as I stood yards away sliced through me like a rusty blade. With three long strides, he carried her up onto the sidewalk. To safety. It was more than I’d ever been able to do for her. The all-too-familiar feeling of guilt rolled in my stomach. Johnson carried her toward the front door of the Guardian Protection building, and that should have been the end of it. It was time for me to go. And not just back to the hotel that had become my makeshift home over the last week. It was time to leave for good. Maybe go back to LA. Maybe New York. Maybe somewhere completely off the grid until I could get my shit together. Any of those options would have been a good decision. But none of them would have given me her—even if she wasn’t mine to take. I had no place in her present, despite the burns on the back of my head and my neck that forever made her a part of mine. But I’d spent four years ignoring the immense need to reach out to her. To check on her. To make sure her breaths had started to come easily and her tears had finally dried. My mind screamed for me to let her go and spare her the trip down memory lane it appeared she was so desperately trying to avoid. But it seemed my legs didn’t listen to logic any more than my heart, because even as indecision warred inside me, I jogged straight to the doors, my heart slamming against my ribs with every step. I caught sight of the red tips of her hair as the elevator doors began to close. Ignoring the decent and rational side of my mind, I shoved a hand between the doors and slid my large body inside. An inexplicable sense of relief washed over me as I took in her uninjured body. It didn’t matter that she was tucked into Johnson’s side or mumbling repeatedly that she wanted to go home. She was there. My attention snapped up to Johnson as he tightened his arm around her waist and shifted her closer against his chest. It was a pointed move, one of possession that echoed loud and clear through the elevator. But I wasn’t there to take her from him. I didn’t actually know why I was there at all. As he held my stare, I prepared for an argument. Though I didn’t know what I could have said. Despite what I told myself, I didn’t know the woman clinging to his chest. Jesus, what the fuck am I doing? I opened my mouth, but Johnson shook his head and lifted a finger to his lips. He was pissed—that much was clear. But there was something else showing in his eyes. Compassion? Understanding? Tolerance? When the elevator came to a stop on the third floor, he guided her off. Confusion crinkled my brow. Guardian was on the fourth floor. However, as soon as her feet made it over the elevator threshold, she took off at a sprint, not slowing as she waved a security card in front of her door and darted through it. When the door slammed behind her, I raked a hand through my hair and turned to see Johnson glowering at me from outside the elevator. “You need to leave,” he stated matter-of-factly. I couldn’t say I disagreed with him, but there was still a piece of me that ached to follow her.

“What the hell happened back there?” I asked. He shoved off the wall and started for the door. “Go home, Levitt.” I reached forward and caught his arm. “You need to talk to me here. I know her… I mean, I knew her. When I was a cop—” “I know all about the fire.” He glanced down at my hand on his bicep and yanked it from my grasp. “I also know that she does not need to see you right now.” I took another step toward him. “Fine. But that doesn’t explain why she bolted out into traffic to get away from me. Is…” I cut my gaze over his shoulder and to her door. “Is she okay?” He continued to stare at me, giving away nothing in his reaction. In a low rumble, he asked, “She look okay to you?” She had. She’d looked more than okay. Carefree and radiant, even. But all of that had splintered into a million broken shards when I’d shown up. I’d done that to her. Not on purpose. I had no idea she’d be in that bar. But, right then, I knew she was on the other side of the door. And, if I went after her the way I longed to, that pain in her eyes would have become mine to own. I’d done enough to that woman without adding this selfishness to the list. I rubbed the back of my scarred neck and dropped my eyes to the ground. “Tell her I’m sorry.” He didn’t reply. Nor did he move as I backed into the elevator. When I started digging through my pockets for my security card, he slid in front of me. Respect blazed in his eyes as he waved his card in front of the sensor and then slapped the button for the garage. Slowly backing out of the elevator, he said, “She’d say she was sorry, too.” My chin jerked to the side. He hadn’t said it with malice, but it still wounded me all the same. I didn’t deserve any apologies. Especially not from her. Johnson held my stare until the door slid shut. Completely numb, I rode the elevator down to the garage. I didn’t go back to my hotel room. Or the bar. I did the one thing I hadn’t done in years. After picking up a bottle of Jack and committing a minor trespassing offense, I stared up at the stars above the empty lot in Park Hill Estate while trying to figure out where it had all gone wrong.



It didn’t feel like I was moving, but somehow, I knew I was falling. The world became a blur as terror faded into acceptance. I was going to die. My only hope was that it wouldn’t take long for that sea of flames to end my twenty-two years of life. Every memory I’d made, every breath I’d taken, every dream I’d had for the future—they would all become nothing more than fuel to feed the dancing, red conflagration. And then, when it was ultimately smothered out, my entire existence would be extinguished right along with it. In those seconds, as I plummeted toward my death, the fear subsided and I became hyperaware of my surroundings. A cool rush of air licked at my skin despite the unbearable heat roaring up at me. And, as though someone had parted it from above, the cloud of smoke broke apart, revealing a clear night sky. I stared up at the stars in rapt awe, wondering if this was my father’s way of letting me know he was there with me. He’d been gone for six weeks. Maybe he’d come back for me. With the thought, a calm washed over me. Nothing felt real anymore. There were no more screams for help. No more pleas to God that would go unanswered. Yet, as every nerve ending in my body exploded in pain, I heard someone yelling. Masculine war cries pierced through me in a way that left me unable to focus on the overwhelming agony flooding my system. Shock did weird things to a person, because I was very aware that I was on fire, but as my lungs burned for a single breath, my heart yearned to soothe the man’s suffering. And then I died. Or so I assumed as the world around me fell silent and the bright light faded to absolute darkness. It was utterly beautiful in the sense that it was nothing. No pain. No fear. No heartbreak. The end. Until his strong hand landed on mine, snatching me back from the grips of death. “Hang on!” he barked, dragging me clear of the flames. I struggled through the unbearable pain to find my way back to consciousness, his voice being my only guide. “Stay with me,” he ordered as I felt my shirt being frantically tugged over my head. Those three words were all it took for the terror to engulf me again. Hope was funny like that. Without it, accepting the inevitable was a simple process. But, when presented with even the thinnest threads to hold on to, my body’s fight response kicked in full force. I gasped as I sat straight up, my hands flying out to the sides as adrenaline flooded my veins. A

choked, “Oh God,” tore from my throat as I flailed and did my best to help him get my shirt off. His hands slapped down on my aching flesh, patting out flames before tearing my pants down my legs. I struggled for a gasp of air, but panic had paralyzed my lungs. “Shhhh. Calm down. Paramedics are on the way,” he assured me, kneeling beside my head and brushing the hair away from my face. “It’s over.” But it wasn’t. And, if the excruciating pain devouring my arms and my chest was any indication, it never would be. I peered up into his dark-green eyes as he raked them down my naked body. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “You’re okay.” The lie showed on his grim face. It was bad. That much was clear. But I was alive. “You…you saved me,” I squeaked, tears pouring from my eyes. His lips thinned, and he shook his head. “You gotta keep breathing.” The fire roared behind him, lighting him from the back. He looked like an angel. His face was shadowed, but I would never forget a single curve of it. From the hard angles of his jaw to the delicate dark lashes that surrounded his eyes—I committed them all to memory. He was beautiful, and for the briefest of seconds as he stared down at me, soot streaked across his handsome face, I feared I’d made him up. When I had been hanging from the window, he’d seemed to appear out of nowhere. What if my panic-stricken mind had somehow conjured him? What if he was nothing more than one last hallucination from my subconscious as I sought any possible way to avoid accepting the inevitable? “Oh God, are you real?” I cried, my body trembling in fear of the truth. His forehead crinkled. “I’m real,” he swore before sucking in a shaky breath. “I just don’t know if you are, Butterfly.” A sob caught in my throat. “Please don’t disappear.” He blew a ragged breath out. “Same goes for you. You stay with me. And I’ll stay with you.” The sound of sirens screamed in the distance, but for what felt like a million years, his gaze never left mine. I cried. He soothed my soul without actually touching me. I writhed in agony. He whispered promises that it was almost over. I prayed for death. He refused to let go. He was the only thing that kept me alive. And then, seconds later, he was literally the only thing that kept me alive. The ground rumbled beneath me as a deafening creak came from inside the angry house. He swung his gaze over his shoulder. “Fuck,” he cursed, his eyes growing wide in horror. Fear surged through me, momentarily pushing the pain into the background. I didn’t have a chance to see what was happening before he was gathering me in his arms. My stomach lurched and a strangled cry escaped my throat as he jostled me. I hadn’t made it all the way off the ground before he dropped me back down. Pain exploded within me as the heavy weight of his body landed on top of me. “Oh God!” I cried out, my vision blurring. The rumble became louder. “Brace,” he ordered, palming the back of my head and tucking my face into his neck. My mind swirled, fading in and out of the welcome darkness. Through the smoke clinging to his

skin, I caught a whiff of his cologne, and for reasons I would never understand, it eased the panic brewing within me. He was real. He was there. Saving me. But, as the house collapsed to the ground, sending a wall of brick falling our way, I feared one of us was going to disappear, and worst of all, I worried it would be him. “Jude!” I gasped as my eyes popped open. The lights from the busy city below illuminated my otherwise dark bedroom. I was at home. Not at the fire. I shook my head, trying to rattle off the hold my memories had over me. There was a pair of green eyes I couldn’t shake. They weren’t a memory—at least not an old one. He’d been there. At the bar. His hair had been longer and his skin now carried a golden tan, but it was still him, just as beautiful and strong as I’d remembered. But that was exactly the problem. He didn’t belong in that bar. Jude Levitt was only real in my dreams. A broken ray of light from the hallway streamed in as the door cracked open. “Jude?” I called, scrambling off the edge of my bed, hope blossoming within me. “It’s me, Rhion,” Johnson said gently, his large silhouette filling the opening as he pushed my door wide. My shoulders sagged in disappointment only to stiffen as the memory hit me. “Apollo,” I breathed, sinking down to the bed. “He was there too.” “I know. I saw him.” Anxiety climbed in my chest. “He…he’s never come that close.” “And he won’t again,” he stated definitively. If I knew anything about Aidan Johnson, it was that he’d make sure of that or he’d die trying. We’d grown up together. Well, more accurately, I’d grown up. Johnson had been twenty-five and very much a man when he’d starting working for my father. I’d never forget the day I got my first eyeful of Dad’s new tall, dark, and mysterious bodyguard. For a sixteen-year-old girl, Johnson was what fantasies were made of—and boy, did I dream about him. Actually, my entire softball team and I dreamed about him. Though, as I got older, our relationship evolved into something else. That something being that he was the only man on Earth I trusted completely. I hung my head and rubbed my temples as the night filtered through my mind. I had thought my heart would explode the moment I’d heard Jude call me Butterfly. Chills had broken out on my skin and a shiver had traveled down my spine. But it was the icy-blue gaze that matched my own that had sent me running. Why, of all nights, had my brother chosen that one to make an approach? The one man I’d been dreaming of had finally shown up and Apollo had ruined it as though he’d known how badly it would hurt me. And let’s be honest. This was Apollo; he might have. Destroying me was his life’s mission. “He can’t hurt you, Rhion.” It was something Johnson said a lot. I wore the scars to argue otherwise. “I don’t want to talk about him.” I never did. I couldn’t forget Apollo, but that didn’t mean he had to be the subject of discussion. He sighed and walked into the room. The bed dipped as he sat beside me. “I’m not gonna fill your

head with bullshit. You definitely could have reacted better tonight. You had four men surrounding you. Apollo could have brought an army and he still wouldn’t have been able to touch you.” He bumped his shoulder with mine. “But we’ll get there.” I groaned then repeated sarcastically, “Yeah. We’ll get there.” “We will,” he promised. I offered him a tight smile then collapsed backwards on the bed. “What was Jude doing there?” He lowered his bulky body back beside me. “He’s Leo’s new guy.” My mouth gaped open as I slowly turned my head to face him. “No way.” He chuckled and folded his arm behind his head. “I was gonna warn you tonight. I’d have told you sooner, but you were locked up tight in your writing cave.” I rolled to my side and propped myself up on an elbow. “I appreciate you respecting my privacy when I’m working, but you could have interrupted me for that kind of news.” His lips twitched as he fought a grin back. “Yeah, well. I was hoping he wouldn’t hang around long enough for me to have to tell you.” I knew that grin all too well. Cocking an eyebrow, I accused, “What did you do?” He laughed and sat up. “Let’s just say he won’t be sexually harassing anyone any time soon.” I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but chances were, with Johnson, I didn’t want to know. And I really shouldn’t have wanted to know when it came to Jude Levitt. Except I did. I wanted to know everything about that man. There hadn’t been a day in over four years that I hadn’t thought about him. It had been the deep timbre of Jude’s voice reminding me that it was almost over that rang in my ears as I’d cried out while the nurses changed my bandages. He might have been the only thing that had gotten me through those first few weeks. It was the memory of his calming, green eyes I focused on as yet another agonizing skin graft took the slow path to healing. And, with over twenty-seven percent of my body covered in burns, it was safe to say I spent a lot time with Jude’s eyes those first few months. Every time I pulled my compression garments on, I imagined they were his arms holding me tight. And, for nearly twenty-three hours, every day for over a year, I pretended Jude held me safely in his arms. And, when it was all said and done, dense scars covering both of my arms, it was his reassuring words that kept me from spiraling into a deep depression. Jude Levitt was why I’d picked up the proverbial pen and started writing. Because of him, I didn’t have to live in a fairytale to know that heroes were real. I winced and bit my bottom lip, drawing up all the courage I could muster to ask the one question I wasn’t sure I’d survive the answer to. “Does he hate me?” Johnson’s hand landed on my back, and I braced for his response. “Not at all,” he rasped. My hopeful gaze jumped to his to find him watching me with that same gentle understanding that had bonded us from the start. My chin quivered. “Are you sure?” “Positive. He followed us up, saying he was sorry. I had to scrape him off the door.” Guilt soured in my stomach. “He lost everything because of me, Johnson.” His lips thinned. “Jude lost everything because of Jude. You do not take on that responsibility.” But I had. For four years. It was the only thing that had kept me from reaching out to him after I’d gotten out of the hospital. And, tonight, when he’d suddenly reappeared in my life, I had run.

I threw both hands up to cover my face. “Oh God. He’s going to think I’m crazy.” Johnson pried two fingers away from one of my eyes and declared, “He thinks you’re crazy, I’ll kill him.” I didn’t believe he would commit an actual homicide for me. Though, I wasn’t about to chance it when it came to Jude. “Please don’t,” I begged. He shook his head and stood up off the bed. “I’m not going to kill the guy. At least, not yet. But I do need to know how you want to handle this.” “Well…” I started, sitting up and uncovering my face. “First off, I’d like a do-over at the bar. Perhaps one where my sociopath brother doesn’t show up and I don’t end up making a fool of myself. Maybe, this time, I could do something bold like say hello to Jude. Or, hell, I don’t even have to talk. What about a wave? That’s still considered polite, right?” He grinned. “Bad news. Last I heard, Doc was off trying to find Marty. We’re gonna have to wait a few years for the DeLorean.” I closed my eyes and dropped my chin to my chest. “That’s unfortunate news for me.” His big hand patted me on the back of my head. “It wasn’t that bad. Levitt will forget about everything by the morning.” “You’re such a liar.” “Yes, but I’m also worried.” “I want to see him, Aidan,” I confessed. He sat back beside me on the bed, his hand going to my knee, where he gave me an encouraging squeeze. “I know. But I think you need to give it some time. I have to go to Indy for a few days. What if I drive back Monday night? We could all go out to dinner. I’ll be there if things get rough. You give me the word, we leave.” “You think Apollo’s going to try to get closer?” “No,” he stated firmly. “I think it’s going to be fine. But if—and that’s a big if—he shows and you lose it, I’m gonna be there to make sure you get home safely.” I dropped my head onto his shoulder. “Jude saved my life. I bet he could get me home safely.” His entire body stiffened, and I tilted my head back in question, only he looked away before I could read his face. “I’m asking you to give it a few days,” he said. “Think about it. Prepare for it. And then let me be there just in case. Jude seemed genuinely apologetic tonight. But I’ve seen this guy in action. I don’t trust him. Not with you.” “I trust him,” I whispered. He groaned. “And that’s the problem, Rhion. You don’t know him.” I closed my eyes to keep the pain from showing. He wasn’t wrong. I didn’t know Jude. But, in my heart, I did. “A few days, babe,” he urged. I could do that for Johnson. He’d done so much more for me. “Okay,” I relented. “But I’m not paying you extra for after-hours protection when we go to dinner.” He grunted. “You buy me a steak, we’ll call it even.” “Christ, a steak? I can’t afford that!” I teased. I was loaded. Though I’d been trying to be a little thriftier recently. “Perhaps we should go ahead and get married. My monthly Guardian bill is doing a number on the old purse strings.” He laughed loudly, a huge grin splitting his mouth. “You grow another appendage since the last time we had this conversation?”

“Hey, I know for a fact you’ve slept with at least one woman!” He arched an incredulous eyebrow. “You know for a fact, huh?” I scoffed. “I’m not thinking there’s any other reason a certain blonde nearly beat down my door last year. I could be wrong, but women usually reserve ‘cunt-ass whore’ for people they assume are sleeping with their man.” I’d barely finished talking when his eyes flashed dark and his smile transformed into an angry scowl. Uh oh. Maybe bringing What’s Her Name up wasn’t the best idea. If I’d actually taken the time to think about it, I’d have remembered that ever bringing up What’s Her Name was a bad idea. I decided to carry on and hopefully he’d forget I’d mentioned her. “It’s not like we would be sleeping together anyway. Given your affinity for big, buff men, I’m not thinking I could do much for you in that department. But you could move into the spare bedroom and we could both sneak boys over in the middle of the night.” He glowered at me. I prattled on. “Or…women. If that’s your thing this month.” He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We seriously gonna have this talk now?” “I’m just sayin’…since you and Chris broke up—” He let out a suffering sigh. “Women are always my thing, Rhion. Just as long as there’s a man on the other side of her.” My mouth fell open. “Both…at the same time?” He shrugged as if I’d asked him if he liked ketchup. Well, that explained a lot about Johnson. I curled my lip. “Okay, see, I’m all for open communication in our marriage, but I didn’t need to know that. Maybe sexual exploits could be a closed portion of our relationship. I could have a whole contract drawn up.” He rolled his eyes. “It’d be easier if I adopted you.” I gasped and shot him a wide smile. “Where do I sign, Papa?” He shook his head, but he did it while chuckling as he stood up off the bed. “I need to go home and pack.” “See, if I were your daughter, you could just walk into the room at the end of the hall.” He headed for the door, calling out, “If you were my daughter, you’d never see Jude again.” I suddenly froze, and my breath caught in my throat. He turned to face me, a sad smile curling one side of his mouth. “You forget I made the grave mistake of reading some of your books.” A heavy douse of embarrassment washed over me as I cut my gaze to the ground and whispered, “They’re fiction, Aidan.” “I hope so, babe,” he replied somberly. “I really fucking hope so.” A knot formed in my stomach, because deep down, a part of me really hoped they weren’t. He whistled low to catch my attention. “So. Monday? Seven? I’ll set it up with Levitt?” he asked. I nodded without giving him my eyes. “And if you change your mind—” “I want to see him. That hasn’t changed in four years. It’s not going to change over the weekend.” “All right, then. That’s all I needed to hear. I’ll see you on Monday.” He walked out the door only to stop and lean his upper body back in. “After tonight, I’ll expect there to be a chocolate croissant waiting when I get here on Monday.” I smiled and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Okay, but only if you promise to get here early. I told Devon I was a stripper. I need you to install a pole to make it legit.”

His eyes nearly bulged from his head. “There are a lot of things I’ll do for you, Rhion. Run into oncoming traffic. Break your brother in half. Call my estranged grandma for a goddamn chocolate chip cookie recipe. But, just so we’re clear, installing a stripper pole will never be one of those things.” I burst into laughter and folded over on my bed. He watched me for several seconds with a warm grin, and then, with a wink, he was gone. Reaching for my laptop on the nightstand, I settled in for a long night of writing. Only, hours later, as I pulled my front door open, I realized I was right about one thing: It would be a long night. It just wouldn’t be spent writing. “Jude?” I breathed.



“Oomph,” I grunted when he yanked me into his arms, my face smooshing against his hard chest as he held me so tight that I could barely breathe. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he slurred. The smell of whiskey mingled with his cologne in an undeniably intoxicating combination. It only took a single breath for my entire body to melt against him. “Christ, Butterfly,” he sighed, trailing the tip of his fingers over my bare shoulder. My lungs seized and my heart stopped. Butterfly. The nickname I’d replayed so many times in my head over the years. The same one I’d covered most of my arms and my chest with various renderings of them. Wrapping my arms around his hips, I held him, fearing that the moment was nothing more than another of my dreams. God knew I’d had enough of those over the last few years. “I never should have taken the call that night. I’m so fucking sorry.” At least that’s what I think he said. It was all so jumbled and twisted coming from his drunken tongue. “I’m okay,” I assured, but it did nothing to slow him. “No, you fucking aren’t.” He quieted long enough to press his lips against the top of my head. It wasn’t sexual, but that didn’t make it any less brilliant. A shiver shook my shoulders before traveling down my body, but it had absolutely nothing to do with the cold air blowing in through the open door and everything to do with him. I was freezing in a tank top and a pair of pajama shorts, but I refused to let go. I’d been waiting too long for that moment. As I fisted my hands into the back of his shirt, he continued murmuring unintelligible words into the top of my hair. Some were laced with apologies. Some were disguised as explanation. Most were what sounded like confessions. And, judging by the way his arms tensed painfully around me with every breath, he meant all of them with his whole heart. But I didn’t need any of them. I had nothing to forgive Jude for. I didn’t stop him from talking though, because as I stood there, eyes closed, lost in his voice. Lost in his scent. Lost in his touch. Lost in him. It ignited a piece of myself that had long since smothered out. Desire. And I basked in it like I was experiencing my first ray of sunshine. For over ten minutes, I allowed Jude to drain his conscience with broken thoughts and slurred sentences, and through it all, I clung to him as though I could alleviate his pain. And I hoped more than

anything else that I actually could. After all, I owed him. More than I’d ever be able to repay. When his lips finally slowed, I eased out of his arms and looked up into his unfocused eyes. “You feel better now?” “Not the slightest.” He shook his head and stumbled to the side, his shoulder colliding with the wall. “Easy there, tiger,” I said, hooking him around the hips to help keep him upright. “Fuck. I should have gone home,” he grumbled. “I’m glad you came back, actually.” “Then why’d you run tonight?” he asked, leaning some of his weight onto my shoulders. Embarrassment colored my cheeks. “That’s a good question,” I replied, doing my best to keep him balanced as I kicked the door shut and then walked us to the kitchen. “How much time ya got?” I left him leaning against the counter and ran around the bar to retrieve a stool, stopping when he popped himself up to sit on top. Well, okay, then. I would have looked like a fool if I’d tried to do that sober, much less drunk. But, then again, I wasn’t nearly six and a half feet tall and covered in muscles. “You…ah…want some coffee?” I asked. He laughed. “Does it come with a lobotomy?” “What? And ruin that pretty face?” I teased, pressing brew on the coffee maker. Okay. Fine. I wasn’t teasing. I was flirting. Straight up. With an extremely inebriated man. But, if I couldn’t flirt with the man of my dreams and the star of every fantasy I’d ever had since I’d first laid eyes on him, who could I flirt with? “It’s not the face. It’s the hair. It covers the scars, but it makes me look like my name should be Percy or Sven or some shit.” I laughed and retrieved two mugs from the cabinet. Sleep was officially out for me—might as well kick a new day off right. “Well, I like it, Percy,” I joked, watching him out of the corner of my eye as I poured him the first drippings of coffee and passed it his way. He smiled, and it almost hit his eyes as he took the mug from my hand. “Cream or sug…” I trailed off as he tipped it to his lips for a long sip that had to have scorched his tongue. “Alrighty.” He didn’t complain, and when he finished, he held his cup out for a refill, his gaze becoming increasingly perplexed as he watched me. “Why are you being so nice?” he asked when I handed it back to him. I shrugged. “Am I supposed to be mean?” “It’s some ungodly hour. I’m smashed. And, after all the bullshit I unloaded on you, yeah, Rhion. You should probably be throwing the mug at me instead of pouring a second cup.” I filled my own mug, leaned my hip on the counter next to him, and shyly whispered, “I don’t care about any of that, Jude. You know, you’re not the only one who’s been living with guilt from the fire.” His gaze snapped to mine. “What the fuck could you possibly feel bad about?” A million angry butterflies came to life in my stomach as I cut my gaze to the floor. “Nothing.” “Look at me,” he urged. I was helpless not to obey. His hand went up and the tips of his fingers brushed over the lines on my shoulders. Dense tattoos covered my arms and my chest, but those weren’t the lines he was tracing. The callused pads of his fingers ran back and forth across the puckered flesh of my burns. “These are mine, Rhion,” he rasped. “You don’t get to own anything from that night.” His body swayed as his drunken eyes drooped even lower as though he were absorbing the pain from my old wounds.

My whole body ached as regret sliced through his handsome features. I fought the urge to soothe him, but that wasn’t with words or a friendly hug. I yearned to pull him into my arms and place a deep and lingering kiss to his lips—and never stop. Maybe take him to bed… “Bread!” I exclaimed, ducking out of his reach. “I bet you could use some. How about something to eat to soak up the alcohol?” After discarding my coffee on the counter, I rushed to my pantry-and-laundryroom combination and shut the door behind me. Once alone, I blew a long-suffering sigh out. What in the hell was I thinking? He was drunk and I was contemplating jumping him? A lot could happen in four years. For all I knew, the guy was married and trying to relieve his conscience. Dear God, was this a booty call? I was no expert in the department, but wasn’t there usually some declaration of attraction or intent before said booty call took place? I barely knew Jude—at least not the real version of the man. All I knew was the one who had been born in my imagination and brought to life through the strokes of my computer keys. But, as Jude had whispered his tortured, guilt-ridden apologies into the top of my hair, I had begun to believe they were one and the same. The sound of the pantry door opening snapped me out of my head. “Rhion,” he called, his tall body filling the doorway. His gorgeous, gorgeous, mouth-watering body. “You okay?” “Um…” I trailed off. No. No. I was not. And it must have read on my face because his fell in understanding. “I shouldn’t have come,” he said. “I’m gonna call a cab. You—” Now that I was faced with the idea of him leaving, my mouth, as it so often did, flipped into overdrive. “Please don’t go,” I blurted. “I’ve been wanting to see you for years.” Only that wasn’t all I said. Oh, no. That would have been too easy. And, if life had taught me anything, it was that the easy path did not exist for me. For over ten minutes, I filled Jude’s ears with confessions of my own. Like how I’d dreamed every day for years of the moment when he’d show up at my door. And how I’d typed J-U-D-E so many times that I’d worn the letters off the keys. And that, in the pages of my books, he was very much alive—and very much mine. But, most importantly, I told him that, while he’d saved my life, it was the memory of him that enabled me to continue living. I wasn’t sure there was any oxygen left in that that pantry by the time I finished talking. Not that he appeared to need any as he stood there, not breathing, propped up on the doorjamb, staring at me with wide eyes, surprise covering his face. Yeah. So maybe talking was a bad idea. I should have let him leave. With embarrassment overwhelming me, I spun to face my washer and cursed my overactive mouth. “I’m sorry. Maybe a cab wouldn’t be a bad idea,” I mumbled. “You dreamed about me?” he asked in disbelief, but it didn’t come from the doorway. It came from directly behind me. I lifted my head at the same time he slipped his hand around my waist. “A lot,” I found myself admitting. “Jesus,” he breathed, turning me in his arms. I craned my head back and mentally prepared myself for his reaction. Even still, I wasn’t prepared. His eyebrows pinched together and his lips thinned in confusion, but his eyes held the most heart-stopping display of relief I’d ever seen. “Why?”

I shrugged. “You’re Jude.” He stared down at me, shaking his head. “And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t want anything to do with me.” But I did. So fucking badly that it hurt. When he rocked toward me, I lifted my hands to his chest to help him keep his balance. But, when I touched him, it was as though a live circuit had finally been closed. His gaze darkened, and it flicked down to my chest. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I sucked in a sharp breath. His fingers brushed over the marred skin on my chest, dipping low before retreating. It probably wasn’t as much sexual as it was sad, but my nipples peaked all the same. “These are mine,” he whispered, trailing his fingers over my scars. Taking a step forward, he backed me to the washing machine. A wave of chill bumps washed over me, but more than just my skin became aroused. Licking my lips, I pushed my hands higher up his pecs and to his shoulders. He groaned in agony as I curled my fingers around the back of his neck. “Oh, fuck, Rhion. Don’t,” rumbled in his throat as though he could barely stand the touch. As cruel as it was, I didn’t let it stop me. If he wanted to take responsibility for my scars, I damn sure was taking it for his. “Then these are mine,” I declared. Faster than I thought possible in his state, his hand snaked up and caught my wrist, his eyes burning with a mixture of heat and anger. “No. Those are fucking mine, too.” “But—” I started softly. “No goddamn buts,” he growled. Gripping hard on my hips, he lifted me and set me on the washer. I opened my legs, and he did not delay in fitting his hips between them. “They’re all mine, Rhion. Every fucking one.” He teased his fingers down my chest to the orange and red tips of the burning butterfly tattoo peeking out the front of my tank top. My breath froze in my lungs as I watched in absolute awe as he dipped his head down and pressed a kiss to the ink. “Yes,” I breathed, linking my legs at his back for fear we’d both topple over. “My Butterfly,” he breathed, kissing lower. Suddenly, my mind fogged, Jude’s intoxication becoming contagious. “More,” I pleaded, arching toward his mouth. “So fucking beautiful.” Another kiss. Need pooled in my stomach, and I reached up to tug the neck of my shirt down until the pink of my bra was exposed. “More.” “Say you forgive me,” he murmured against my chest. “Nothing to forgive,” I moaned. He suddenly righted himself, keeping himself close with a hand on either side of me. “I—” He didn’t get it out before I finished for him. “Saved my life.” My heart raced as his eyes narrowed on me, but I was sick of Jude’s apologies. We hadn’t gotten there by happenstance. Not the night of the fire. And not right then. As a woman who had lost her entire family and had been walking through life alone for years, I didn’t believe in chance. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t take advantages of the opportunities presented to me. Leaning up, I grazed my lips across his and whispered, “No more. It’s done.” He breathed in deep, but that was the only hesitation he gave.

With a hungry growl, he grabbed the back of my head, anchoring me in place as he began devouring my mouth. There was nothing gentle about it. There was desperation. Two broken souls fighting for control of a wildfire. Our teeth clanked together, and I nearly fell off the washing machine while furiously trying to get closer, opening my legs wide enough to find friction against him. “Fuck,” he slurred, starting to pull away. I stopped him by ripping the front of his shirt open, buttons dinging against the metal, before I stripped his undershirt over his head. “Rhion,” he objected. The two of us shared a multitude of regrets. But kissing him. Touching him. Being with him would never be one of those. At least not for me. And, as I pushed to my feet, our hands and our mouths never losing contact, Jude gave his fight up too. Pinning me to the door with his hips, he used his mouth to explore my neck, and his hands roamed my body. We stumbled from that pantry, both of us equally drunk, but now, it was on need and desire. A fire blazed between us with only one way to extinguish it.



“Why the roof?” I blinked. That was the first question my captain asked me when he showed up in my hospital room at the burn center in Chicago. Not: “How’s your broken leg? Not: “You feeling okay after spending a full day in a medically induced coma while doctors monitored the swelling in your head?” Not: “How are those burns that cover the back of your skull and the back of your neck?” No. None of those were what he asked me. It was, however, why my answer was, “I’m sorry. What?” “You told her to climb up to the roof? Why?” I stared at him in confusion. My mind was still groggy from the medication, but I did the best I could to focus. “Because it was the only place that wasn’t on fire?” “Is that a question or a statement?” he asked, raking a rough hand through his thinning, gray hair as he began pacing the room. Movement at the door caught my attention. Careful not to move my aching head, I shifted my eyes to the side and saw two uniforms standing outside. “What’s going on?” I asked suspiciously. He stopped and gave me his full focus. “Why the roof, Levitt?” “There was nowhere else. She was gonna die.” And that’s when it hit me. My foggy mind finally caught up as, all at once, the pieces began to click into place. The last thing I remembered was the horrible creak of the house and the terrifying sound of her screams as it fell down on top of us. My aching body protested as I sat upright, bile igniting a path up my throat. “Oh God, did she die?” His head snapped back as he stopped pacing and fisted his hands on his hips. “What? No. She’s down the hall.” “Thank God,” I exhaled, relief doing far more to soothe me than whatever cocktail of pain medication was pumping through my IV. His expression turned hard. “Don’t be so quick to send up thanks. That woman you saved is Rhion Park. Sole heir to the Park Empire.” He stared at me as though he’d laid out the secrets of the universe. “Okay?” I drawled. “Okay?” he repeated. I winced as I attempted to shift in the bed. “I’m not following where you’re going with this.” He stopped at the foot of my bed and crossed one arm over his chest, his other hand going up to scrub his jaw. “Where I’m going with this, Levitt, is I’ve got the entire Park family legal team and

every fucking news station in the country crawling up my ass, wanting to know why in the hell a cop— my fucking cop—would send a woman up higher when a fucking fifth-grader knows to stay low.” He threw his hands out to his sides and took an angry step in my direction. “But, more than that, they want to know why a cop—my fucking cop—was making this astronomically stupid call with alcohol in his system. So yeah, Levitt. I’m gonna need some goddamn answers. First up: Why the roof?” Suddenly, the air in the room became too thick to breathe. Reality crashed down on me harder than that three-story house ever could. I’d wanted to be a cop since I was eight years old and my father had nearly cut his finger off while trying to trim the trunk of our Christmas tree. Blood was everywhere and my mother wouldn’t stop screaming regardless that my father was cussing at her for calling 911 for a simple cut. I paced the front porch, praying that he wouldn’t die, because, when you’re eight, that’s what happens when you bleed even the slightest bit. A cop arrived first. He rolled up onto the curb in front, lights flashing and sirens blaring, giving me, along with the rest of the neighborhood, the whole emergency experience. I’d never forget the wake of tranquilly that trailed behind him as he jogged up the front steps. My mom stopped screaming. My father stopped cussing. I stopped worrying. Looking back, I thought that cop had probably been relieved when he’d walked in and seen my tooproud-to-ask-for-help dad holding a washcloth around his finger. No guns drawn. No vile human beings destroying lives. No wounded butterflies. But the little cut that ultimately earned my father eight stitches and an expensive ride in an ambulance changed my life. As I stood beside my mother, watching the cop drive away, I realized exactly who I wanted to be when I grew up. Donning on that uniform became my dream. Yet, as I sat in that hospital bed, my chest physically aching, I began to wish that it had been a firefighter to respond to my house first that afternoon. “Start talking, Levitt,” my captain ground out when I didn’t reply. I cut my gaze to the door, an ocean of regret churning in my gut. One night, one call, one decision—and I was going to lose it all. “I think I need an attorney.” When I awoke, blinding lights poured into the room, making it impossible to open my eyes. For the way my retinas ached, the sun might as well have been in the same room. A marching band was playing in my head. Okay, maybe not an entire marching band, but definitely the drum line. I attempted to swallow, but my mouth was so dry that the action only made me cough. I threw my hand out to the side and blindly patted the nightstand down, praying that, in my drunken stupor, I’d had the foresight to grab a bottle of water. In my search, my hand landed on a glass. I lived in a hotel, and not a nice one, at that. I didn’t have cups at all. Much less a glass. “Oh God,” I breathed as I pried one eye open. Pale coral-and-white vertical-striped walls greeted me. My stomach rolled as I slowly sat up. Squinting, I attempted to take inventory of the spinning room. White, distressed dresser. Dark mahogany wood floors. A canvas painting of a starfish. And the salty smell of the ocean wafting in the air. How the hell did I end up at the beach? The last thing I remembered was staring down into an empty bottle of Jack at Park Hill. I glanced down and saw that I was still in the same slacks I’d been wearing the day before, but my chest was bare. Where the hell is my shirt? My gaze dropped to the floor, where I spotted my white undershirt folded on top of my shoes, but my button-down was MIA. I looked to the nightstand and saw my keys, my phone, and my wallet neatly stacked on top of each other. I was no detective, but it didn’t take any special skills to deduce that, if I couldn’t remember taking

my damn shirt off, I probably hadn’t been the one to organize the contents of my pockets. Clearly, I hadn’t come to the beach alone. But who… “Oh God,” I whispered to myself. It came back in a rush. But none of the memories were complete. I only caught the tiniest bits and pieces. Pale-blue eyes barely peeking through a cracked door. My mind sloshed as I stood up, dread settling in my stomach. Fiery-red-and-blond hair brushing against shoulders as she led me inside. I shook my head while I tugged my shirt and my shoes on. My index finger tracing the intricate tattoos covering her shoulders. Pressure built in my chest when I reached the door and slowly twisted the doorknob. Her back flush against my chest as I stared down at the delicate curve of her neck. I swallowed around the lump in my throat and sent up prayers to every god in the universe that I was wrong. Maybe this was another nightmare. That’s where she usually found me. But, as I opened the door and caught sight of her sitting on the ground, her knees tucked to her chest, her colorful arms wrapped around her legs, and her eyes aimed up at me, I knew there would be no waking up from this one. “Hey,” she whispered, scrambling to her feet. Scrubbing my hand over the scruff on my jaw, I muttered a cursed, “Jesus Christ.” She toyed with the ends of her hair, and like a shock of electricity, a mental souvenir from the night before assaulted me. Her hair smells like coconut. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and then rushed out, “Um…so, good morning. Can I get you some coffee, breakfast, toothbrush, memory eraser, anything?” I cringed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’ll take the memory eraser with a side of coffee.” “Excellent choice,” she mumbled under her breath before taking off at a speed just under a sprint. Mentally chastising myself, I followed after her. The narrow hallway opened up to a living-roomkitchen combination. It might as well have screamed money for as nice as everything appeared. Two tan couches with carved wooden legs, covered in countless throw pillows of all colors and patterns, sectioned the living room off, while a long, chocolate-and-taupe-veined granite counter served as a barrier for a kitchen with stainless-steel appliances lining the wall. It looked a lot like Guardian, but it felt oddly familiar in a different way. Confused, I asked, “Are we at the beach?” Her head snapped up while she was filling two mugs with coffee. “The beach?” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “That room. Seemed…I don’t know, beachy.” She stared at me blankly for several beats. “You said you loved the beach.” I awkwardly scratched the back of my head. “Okay. So we talked last night. Good to know.” Her body jerked and her face paled as she gasped, “You don’t remember?” Dear God. I was seriously an asshole. “I’m sorry.” Her back shot ramrod straight, and something strange—and surprisingly painful—sifted through her features. “Nothing?” Oh, I remembered a few things. All of which I wished I could forget. “Any chance you could fill me in?” I asked. She quickly turned away to put the coffee pot down, her shoulders hunched over in defeat. And then she lied to me. Plain as day. “You’re not missing much. You showed up drunk. I was half-asleep. I put you to bed. Went to bed myself. Now, we’re drinking coffee.” I opened my mouth to apologize only to clamp it shut when she continued to talk.

“That was my ocean room you were in. When I moved to Chicago a few years ago, I missed the beach. So I had a guy come in and set it up. It has special lighting to mimic the afternoon sun, a scentinfused humidifier installed in the wall, and a strategically placed surround-sound system to add the natural echo of the waves.” She turned back to face me. “I turned that off when I heard you snoring. I hope that’s okay. It’s really loud in the room next door, which happens to be my bedroom.” Her whole body turned solid, and her face slid through three different shades of red. “I mean, not that you needed to know where my bedroom is or anything. Well, I mean, unless you want to take a bath. I have an amazing jetted tub in my bathroom. The other two only have showers. The showers are really nice though. I had the contractor add these kickass showerheads. It’s quite the experience. You should give it a try. Oh, that reminds me. I laid out an extra toothbrush in the bathroom.” She paused only long enough to suck in a huge gasp of air. “The bathroom in the hall—you know, with the shower, not mine… You know, with the tub. Anyway—” When it became abundantly clear the woman had no intention of stopping, I attempted to wade in. “Rhion,” I called, stepping toward her. “I also put a hairbrush in there. You know, for your hair. Which I have to say is really nice. It looks good on you. Not all guys can pull that off. It’s the perfect mix of bad-boy and clean-cut.” She squinted her eyes closed as embarrassment contorted her face. “Not that I’m saying you’re either of those things. I wasn’t checking you out or anything.” I took another step in her direction, making yet another attempt to cut her off. “Rhion.” Her nose crinkled adorably, and she began worrying with the diamond hanging from a silver chain around her neck. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re a handsome man. I just—” “Rhion,” I repeated, closing the final few steps between us. “I can’t stop talking!” she exclaimed a second before she ducked around me and burst into tears.



The knock on the door startled me awake. My upper body was on fire, but not the kind that could be extinguished. The doctors had tried, but there wasn’t a medicine in the world strong enough to ease the pain. For a full week, it had been excruciating. And, from what the nurses had told me, it was going to be a while longer before it finally started to fade. The knock came again. I lifted my head off the pillow and glanced around the room, finding it surprisingly empty. Katie and Pete had been fixtures at my bedside since they’d arrived in town. “Come in!” I called out in a scratchy voice. It was no doubt another doctor or nurse coming to torture me under the guise of help. My body tensed in anticipation. “Rhion?” His voice filtered into the room, causing my heart to stop beating just before it went into overdrive. I froze, my emotions stuck somewhere between shock, dread, and exhilaration. He’d come. I’d been hoping he would—almost as much as I’d hoped he wouldn’t. I’d been dying to see him, but I lay in a hospital bed, my arms spread out at my sides, third-degree burns covering nearly every inch. That was not how I wanted him to see me. Yet there he was. A family of hummingbirds took up residence in my stomach as his tall body emerged. My breath hitched as I raked my gaze over his muscular frame. The outline of his chiseled chest showed through the straining fabric of his plain, black T-shirt while a pair of dark washed denim hugged his tapered waist. His dark-blond hair had been shaved and large, rectangular bandages covered the back of his head and his neck, but he was still gorgeous. I shyly swept my gaze to the other side of the room. I couldn’t imagine what I looked like after a week of sitting in a hospital bed. Not that it really mattered. Judging by the burns on my arms and my chest, the days when vanity had any place in my life were officially over. But, deep down, I still cared. “Rhion,” he said softly, drawing my attention back to him. My vision swam as our gazes locked. What do you say to the man who saved your life? The man who literally pulled you from the hands of death. The man who protected you with no regard for his own safety. The man who now wore the scars from the most frightening moment of your entire life. My first words to him should have been some variation of “thank you” laced with profuse gratitude, but as I stared into his emerald-green gaze, which had soothed me when my entire world had been burning down around me, I only managed to get two words out. “You’re real,” I whispered. His eyes flashed wide, but a sexy grin pulled at the corners of his full lips. “So are you, my beautiful Butterfly.”

I shyly glanced at the bed and allowed myself to smile for what felt like the very first time. “Rhion, wait!” He caught my arm before I could make my getaway. And, God, if I’d ever needed to make a getaway, that was the moment. This can’t be happening. I’d spilled my deepest, darkest secrets to the only man I’d ever wanted to share them with. And he’d woken up thinking he was at the beach. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, but the searing pain still tore through me. I’d expected awkward when he woke up. For God’s sake, he’d passed out in the middle of some pretty hot, heavy action. But never, not once, had I considered he wouldn’t remember. “I’m sorry,” I choked out, doing my best to wipe my tears off on the shoulder of my shirt. “I’m not always a basket case, I swear. It’s just…” I couldn’t finish that thought. Well, at least not out loud. It’s just you’re Jude. I didn’t tell him that. And, in that moment, as he stared back at me, clearly horrified to have woken up in my apartment and even more horrified by what memories he’d retained, I’d wished I hadn’t told Jude a lot of things. But, I guessed, the good news was that he didn’t remember any of them. Only it didn’t feel like good news. It felt like a sledgehammer to the heart. “I’m sorry,” I choked out again. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Stop.” He released my arm, slid his hand up to the back of my neck, and forced my gaze all the way up to his. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who should be apologizing. Christ, Rhion. I don’t even remember how I got here.” My breathing shuttered as his fingers flexed on the back of my neck, a chill radiating down my spine. I hypnotically stared up at him and stuttered, “You…you said you took a cab.” His eyes flashed dark and his intense gaze became tangible. Like a feather, it swept down my throat and over to my shoulder, completely unnerving me. Well, more than I was already unnerved. Which was a hell of a lot, considering that it was Jude and he was currently standing in my apartment with little to no memory of the night before, while I would never be able to forget it. “I had too much to drink,” he stated. “I gathered that,” I replied while watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. For several seconds, neither of us moved. He scanned my face as if he were searching for something. And then his eyebrows pinched together and his face contorted into a picture of confusion. Beautiful, beautiful confusion. “Why does your hair smell like coconut?” he rasped. “My shampoo,” I replied breathily. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. I mean why do I know you smell like coconut?” Because, when you showed up at my door at four a.m., I wasn’t able to get a single word out before you yanked me into your arms and slurred unintelligible apologies into the top of my hair. However, that was not a night I was willing to relive any time soon. It had been hard enough to keep my shit together when I’d confessed four years’ worth of guilt and secrets to him the night before. And that’s assuming that I could consider “keeping my shit together” stripping his shirt off and throwing myself at him until he eventually passed out beneath me. No. Evade was the word of the day until I had time to regroup, reorganize, and rethink—my entire life.

“I’m… Well, I’m not really sure,” I lied. My attention fell to his perfect lips as they thinned into a grimace. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he asked, “Look. Did…I do anything…inappropriate last night?” Oh. My. God. Inappropriate? No. It was all very, very appropriate. And not nearly enough for the things I wanted to do to him. The same things I had told him about in great detail. Suddenly, the last thing I wanted was for Jude to remember—anything. I twisted my lips and stared off into the distance. “Not that I can think of. Why do you ask?” His cheeks puffed as he blew out a sigh of relief. “I’m getting these little snippets from last night. And…” He stopped talking and wrenched his eyes shut. “You know what… I should go.” Yes, you should. That’s what my mind screamed, anyway. Only, when I opened my mouth, that wasn’t at all what came out. “No, wait! Please don’t go. You haven’t had your coffee. And, without that, I can’t get the memory eraser into your bloodstream.” Note to self: Find out if that shit is real. “That was a joke,” I announced. “Well, not the ‘don’t go’ part. I meant that. But the whole bloodstream thing. I’m not planning to poison you or anything.” His eyebrows shot up, and for a second, I swear it looked like he was fighting a laugh back. “Good to know.” “I have a really awkward sense of humor sometimes.” I rocked up onto my toes and then back onto my heels. “Especially when I’m nervous.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed he’d cocked an eyebrow at me. It was only out of the corner of my eye because my gaze was trained on his tan bicep flexing as he gripped the back of his neck. When he caught me staring, I carried on with the word vomit. “Not that you make me nervous or anything. I’m sure you’re—” “Rhion,” he started. My gaze jumped back to his, and for the first time since I’d met him, there wasn’t a hint of guilt in his deep-greens. An unbelievably beautiful megawatt smile nearly blinded me. My mouth dried at the sight, but for the love of all that was holy, the words kept pouring out. “Okay, so that was a lie. You make me incredibly nervous. And, now, I’m rambling along with telling bad jokes. But, with all of that aside, assuming you don’t think I’m completely insane, I’d really like it if you’d stay and let me cook you breakfast.” His smile grew wider, and I forced myself not to focus on it—at least not for long. He still noticed. “I did, after all, hold your hair while you threw up. You kinda owe me.” Seriously. That’s what came out of my mouth. To the man who saved my life? He owed me? Shoot me! His whole face morphed into horror. “I puked?” I slapped a hand over my mouth, talking around it as I cried, “No! I was joking. I can’t stop.” His lips twitched, and he tilted his head to the side. “Did you actually have a contractor make you an ocean room?” My head snapped back at the randomness of that question. He crossed his thick arms over his chest. “It just sounds like a joke.” I shook my head. “I love the beach.” “Oh, look. You can speak in single sentences,” he said, his grin playful. I crossed my arms over my chest, mirroring his posture, while praying that he hadn’t seen my nipples harden at the sight of that fucking grin.

“Yeah, but don’t get used to it. Paragraphs seem to be my preferred method of communication where you’re concerned.” A deep, masculine laugh sprang from his throat. It was better than the smile. So, so, so much better, and it soothed my exposed nerves as much as it sliced through me. Last night, I’d dared to hope that his smile would be aimed at me all the time. Maybe on my couch as he held me securely in his strong arms, or maybe even in my bed as I traced my fingers through the smattering of light hair that covered his sculpted chest. And, now, thanks to his laugh, I knew exactly what I was going to be missing. I pretended that it wasn’t devastating as I quietly asked, “So, is that a yes to breakfast?” He smirked, and I decided right then and there that Jude Levitt’s smirking was enough to make me speak in short stories. For the rest of my life. Which wasn’t going to be much longer if death by embarrassment was possible. “Right,” I mumbled, turning toward the kitchen before I had the opportunity to gawk at him any longer. “Wow. A single word. We’re making serious progress here,” he teased, following behind me. I ignored the ache in my chest as I poured him a mug and then passed it his way. He casually propped his hip against the counter and crossed his legs at the ankle as he took a sip. I stared because…Jude. After he’d downed at least half a cup, he asked, “So, how long you been living here?” “Two years.” I walked over to the fridge, praying that I had something I could make the man for breakfast after I’d all but begged him to stay. He remained in the kitchen but turned so he could see the rest of my apartment. My heart stopped when his gaze lingered on my bookshelf for a beat too long. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Just seconds before I jumped out of my own skin, he put me out of my misery by saying, “This place is huge. You live alone?” I vowed right then and there to go to church on Sunday. “Yes!” I exclaimed on a rushed exhale. He arched an eyebrow at me. I avoided explaining my reaction by asking, “How about an omelet?” A sound registering somewhere between a groan and a growl rumbled in the back of his throat. “Honestly, I’d be better with some toast and Tylenol.” “I’m not sure if that was a good guess or if you magically knew that toast was my specialty, but either way, you are in for quite a treat,” I replied, closing the fridge and heading for the pantry. For the way things changed a moment later, you would have thought my pantry was the doorway to an alternate dimension. That dimension being my personal Hell. When I reemerged, I found him still leaning against the counter, coffee mug in hand and frozen in midair, but he was staring at the door in what could only be described as mortified recognition. My heart slammed into my ribs as I set the bread on the counter. As he lowered the cup, his gaze jumped to mine. His eyes burned with some emotion I couldn’t quite read, but I felt the singe all the same. “What?” I asked hesitantly. “Your washer and dryer are in there,” he whispered. Uh oh. “They are,” I confirmed cautiously and then attempted to explain his memory away. “Just like they are at Guardian. We have the same floor plan.” He blinked. “You have a tattoo of a butterfly on your chest.” Uh oh.

“I have a lot of butterfly tattoos.” I lifted my arms in his direction as exhibits A and B. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “No,” he stated firmly. “This one…” He trailed off and then mumbled a curse under his breath. “It’s on fire.” Uh motherfucking oh. “Yeah. I told you about it last night,” I whispered. It wasn’t a total lie. It wasn’t the truth, either. He half growled and half laughed, raking a hand through the top of his hair. “Only half of it’s visible. The other half is hidden under your bra.” Shit! Chills pebbled my skin at the memory of his tongue laving over the flames of that butterfly while his finger hooked under the fabric to tease my nipple. “Why do I know that, Rhion?” Because, after I tore your shirt off in the pantry, you were kind enough to return the favor. “Um…” I quickly turned away and, with shaking hands, began wrestling with the twist tie on the bread. My stomach somersaulted when his chest brushed my back. “What happened last night?” he demanded, his tall body looming over me. I closed my eyes, wishing I could disappear—or, worse, turn in his arms and bury my face in his chest. “Nothing,” I lied. “Your bra was pink,” he said gruffly as he plucked the bread from my hands and tossed it down on the counter. “Jude,” I breathed around the massive lump in my throat. He inhaled sharply before exhaling a horrified, “Dear God.”



“Out of my way,” I growled at the older man flanked by two bodyguards. “Rhion!” I was inching forward when a hand shot down and landed on my chest. “You go in that room and you’ll lose more than your job.” I scoffed. “Yeah, not a whole lot more you can take away from me. Fucking move!” I pushed forward, but I was once again stopped. A slow grin grew on his lips. “See, that’s where you’re wrong.” He shoved his hands into his pockets of his navy slacks. “One word with my attorneys and your entire life becomes mine in a civil suit.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I have neither the time nor the desire to go after the pennies in your bank account, but if ruining you is what I have to do in order to get you out of Rhion’s life forever, I have no compunction in doing just that.” I gritted my teeth and seethed, “You want my fucking life? Take it! I have absolutely no use for it anymore. I’m already ruined. I’m a good cop who did the best I could to get her out of that fire alive. Now, get the fuck out of my way and let me see her.” “Oh please,” he scoffed. “You were drunk.” “I wasn’t fucking drunk!” I roared. At my explosion, his bodyguards protectively closed in. But I kept my anger leveled on him as I repeated, “I wasn’t drunk.” He cocked his head to the side and smirked. “You’ve been warned. Am I to take our continued conversation as a challenge, Mr. Levitt?” The muscles at my neck flexed, sending a stabbing pain to my burns. I didn’t even wince. I’d deserved that. And so much more. “No challenge.” I stabbed a finger toward her door. “That woman wants my pennies, she can have them all. She wants my house? She can have that too. My car? It’s hers. I’m not here to cause her any trouble. But I will not fucking leave without seeing her.” “And what makes you think she wants to see you?” I cut my gaze to the floor as a boulder of guilt settled in my stomach. “I…” Nothing else came out. I had no idea if she wanted to see me or not. But I needed to see her. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to breathe again without it. It wouldn’t take long. There were only so many different ways I could say, I’m sorry. “Fine. Let me hear her say she doesn’t want to see me and you’ll never see me again.” “Oh, I’ll never see you again regardless. And neither will she.” He laughed. My soul caught fire. “That is not your decision to make!” I yelled, slamming my fist into his face. “Get him the hell out of here,” the man spat, blood dripping from his lip. Hands roughly landed on my shoulders, but I continued to fight them off. It would take more than two men to keep me from her.

“I walked through fire for her! Just let me say goodbye!” I roared. “And yet our supposed hero wears the scars on his back.” My head snapped to the side from his TKO blow. If there had ever been a time to throw in the towel, that would have been it. But it was Rhion. My desperation to see her far outweighed any punishment he could dole out. Physically or verbally. Adrenaline surged through my veins. “You son of a bitch!” I shouted, diving toward him. One of the men caught me at my chest and sent me crashing to the floor. “Get him out of here,” the older man ordered, brushing me off like the trash he assumed I was. He wasn’t completely wrong. “Yes, sir, Mr. Higgins,” one of the men replied, lifting me off the floor. “Rhion!” I yelled as the older man pushed through the door to her room. My entire body froze when I caught a glimpse of her. The air thinned and my lungs suddenly went up in flames as her agony-filled eyes landed on me. Her arms were extended out to her sides as if she’d been mounted to a cross. Gauze was wrapped around her breasts to cover her, and tears streamed down her creamy, white cheeks. “Butterfly,” I whispered. Her face crumbled, and she turned her head away as though she were unable to bear the sight of me. I couldn’t blame her. God knew I couldn’t anymore. But that one reaction carved out a piece of my soul that I would never be able to reclaim. I hadn’t been responsible for the fire, but I owned those burns all the same. “Butterfly!” I yelled as the door started to swing closed. I frantically leaned to the side to keep her in my sights while hands forcefully pulled at my shoulders. I couldn’t leave. Not without telling her I was sorry. Thus selfishly relieving myself of the overwhelming burden of that night. I fought against their grip. “Butterfly!” I yelled. “Let me fucking go!” I barked as they dragged me away. “Butterfly!” The pain at the back of my head was agonizing as I fought against them. But nothing could compare to the madness that would happen inside my head for the next four years. With the sultry whisper of my name, a rash of memories of the night before came tearing through my thoughts. Rhion opening the door. Her body flush against mine. A million whispered apologies. A cup of coffee. Rhion escaping to the pantry-slash-laundry-room. Me following her. Her talking. And talking. And talking. More apologies. My fingers tracing over her tattoos as I held her. Her head slowly craning back. Pale-blue eyes staring up at me. Her lips brushing mine. My mouth opening.

Her tongue meeting mine. Her hands tugging at the hem of my shirt. Buttons flying. Me tearing her shirt over her head. Her lithe body pinned against the door. My tongue laving the swell of her breasts. Her peaked nipples rolling between my fingers. Her whispered moans. My deep growls. My fingers teasing the soft flesh beneath her waistband. More apologies. Her guiding me to the bed. Her weight settling over my hips. More apologies. A moaned, “You’re real.” A whispered, “Butterfly.” A breathy, “Jude.” Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. “Jesus Christ,” I mumbled in disbelief, backing away from her. How could I have let that happen? This was Rhion. My Butterfly. The woman who had been haunting my dreams. The same one I’d nearly gotten killed. And, as if I hadn’t fucked up enough when it came to her, I now had firsthand knowledge of how perfectly her breasts fit in my palms. “Jude, wait,” she called as she spun to face me. I rubbed my temples in a worthless attempt to ease the pounding in my head. “How the hell did my getting drunk end with us in bed together?” I continued my retreat. But she followed after me, pleading, “Wait.” “Did we…” I trailed off. “Did we what?” she asked softly, her voice holding an alarming combination of hope and regret. I ran a hand over the scars on the back of my head and asked curtly, “Did we have sex?” “No,” she answered immediately. “Thank you, God,” I rushed out. I didn’t miss her flinch, but I was too relieved to process it. “What exactly happened?” I asked. She shook her head entirely too many times. “Nothing really. We watched Terminator, ate ice cream, and then you passed out.” More lies. “Something else happened,” I stated. Her gaze cut to the ground as her fingers went up to her necklace. She remained silent as she dragged the large diamond back and forth across the thin, silver chain. “Rhion,” I called through my growing frustration. “Fine, it was Pretty in Pink, but I didn’t figure you’d want a reminder of those two hours you’ll never get back,” she informed the floor. “There was no movie.” Her head snapped up, embarrassment carved in her smooth skin. “We just talked, okay?”

“Fantastic. Care to fill me in about what that conversation entailed?” It must have been one hell of a chat if it had ended with her half naked in my arms. I refused to believe that alcohol could magically transform her from the woman who haunted my dreams to someone who could set me ablaze from across the room. However, as my gaze drifted down to her breasts, it seemed it had. Her eyes fluttered shut as she whispered, “Jude.” I’ll be damned if I didn’t feel that one syllable drift over my skin as if she’d breathed it against my neck in the throes of passion. For all I knew, maybe she had. My frustration grew. “What. Happened?” Her eyes popped open as she exclaimed, “Nothing!” But “nothing” didn’t explain why I knew what the curve of her hip felt like as I glided my hands up her sides and over her breasts. Or, worse, why, as I stared down at her sleep-mussed, blond hair, makeup-free face, and her body in nothing but a white tank top and a pair of light-pink shorts, I longed to feel it again. Actually, maybe nothing was right. Because not one thing she could say would explain that. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I said, “Rhion, sweetheart, I’m going to be blunt here. I know what it feels like to have you riding me. I’m gonna say that’s a hellova lot more than nothing.” Yeah, okay, it had been really blunt, but I’d woken up in a world that didn’t make sense and she held all the answers. That all-too-familiar guilt settled in my stomach when her head jerked back as if I’d slapped her. “I did not ride you,” she whispered, the pain thick in her voice. I barked a cringe-worthy laugh. “Yeah, you did. Maybe not my cock. But you were definitely straddling me. I remember that much. All I’m asking is that you tell me how we got there, because whatever went down last night was definitely a mistake.” “A mistake,” she whispered in disbelief. Her whole body jolted, but she held her ground as I stalked toward her. I pretended that the hurt in her eyes didn’t shred me. “What did I say to you?” I asked. Her face crumbled, but she covered it with an agonizing smile. “You said you were sorry.” Phew. Okay. At least I’d pre-apologized before feeling her up. Fucking hell. “I am,” I swore. “I’m so goddamn sorry. For the fire. For last night. For everything. I never should have come here. I never should have touched you like that.” Though, if memory serves me correctly— which it fucking isn’t—it appeared you liked it quite a bit. “I’d spent the whole night drowning myself in a bottle of Jack while trying to forget the nightmare of meeting you. I wasn’t in my right mind.” I fisted my hands on my hips—mainly to combat the urge to keep from dragging her into my arms and pulling the memory of her soft skin on mine into the present and out of the foggy past. Why did I suddenly want that from her? She stumbled back a step, throwing her hand out to catch herself on the counter. “The nightmare of meeting me?” she breathed. A knot formed in my throat as regret clawed its way up. “I didn’t mean—” “Get out,” she whispered. I should have gotten out the moment I’d woken up, but for reasons I couldn’t explain or understand, I had no desire to leave her. She stared at me for several seconds, tears welling in her eyes with every blink. I once again pretended like it wasn’t destroying me. “You need to leave. Now,” she said forcefully. Suddenly, a man’s voice joined the conversation. “You’re done here, Levitt. She asked you to leave.”

I spun and found Devon standing in her entryway. What the hell was he doing there? Were they tight? He’d been at the bar last night. But I’d thought she was with Johnson. It had sure seemed that way on the elevator up to her apartment. “Fuck. Me,” I groaned when that reality bitch-slapped me. She was my boss’s woman. The one who already hated me. It was safe to assume trailing my tongue up her cleavage was going to earn me a pink slip. Out-fucking-standing. My head was pounding. I was dehydrated. In desperate need of more coffee—and possibly the removal of whatever part of my brain controlled my impulses. Rhion wasn’t going to tell me anything about the night before, and maybe that was best for both of us. Less memories to forget. “Great idea,” I grumbled, heading toward the door. Her bare feet padded against the wood floor as she followed behind me. Devon glowered at me as I passed him and headed straight to the elevator. “You good?” he asked her, but I didn’t hear her reply. I also didn’t get on the elevator because, as I patted down my pockets, I remembered that my phone and my wallet were on the nightstand in her fucking ridiculous—but somehow quirky and charming— ocean room. I groaned and dropped my head back between my shoulders to stare up at the concrete ceiling of the breezeway before calling out, “I need my stuff off the nightstand.” “I’ll get it,” she answered, her voice breaking at the end. It broke me too. Jesus. How in the hell was this happening? It seemed liquor and Rhion Park didn’t mix well for me. Due to this magical concoction brewed in Hell, I’d once again hurt her. Yeah, jackass. Now, she wears the scars of your fuck-ups both inside and out. “You know Johnson’s going to destroy your life for this,” Devon said behind me. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I shot back in defeat, “Too late. His girlfriend back there ruined my life years ago.” I heard her gasp, and there was no way to pretend that it didn’t crash down on me like a million shards of glass. I spun around, pissed off at the entire world, but mostly at myself. She didn’t deserve my bullshit. Yet, as tears pooled in her blue eyes, her chin quivering as she fiercely struggled to keep them in, I knew I’d given it to her. And it had cut her deep. That knowledge slayed me. “Rhion.” I started to apologize, but I didn’t know where to go from there. My list was growing by the minute. With shaky hands, she passed my stuff off to Devon. Then her teary gaze made it back to mine, the hollowness inside serving as a weapon of its own. “You know, Jude. My version of you was a hell of a lot better than the real one.” “Your version?” I asked. She didn’t reply. She simply turned to Devon, gave his arm a squeeze, and walked back inside her apartment. “Butterfly,” I whispered as I lost her behind a closed door. Again.

Brianna: No fucking way! Jude Levitt. In the smoking-hot flesh. Was in your apartment? I knew I’d have to tell her eventually, but I was hoping I could make it longer than a week before relaying the most embarrassing morning of my life to my best friend. Though I should have known better. She’d noticed right away that something was wrong. And there were only so many times I could delay the inevitable by saying I was too busy writing to talk. Especially since I wasn’t writing, and she was my self-proclaimed head beta reader. Coincidentally, she was also my editor, my cover designer, my formatter, and my agent. Again, all self-proclaimed. In reality, she was just my best friend who loved romance novels and insisted I send them to her chapter by chapter as I wrote. It worked for us. Except for in situations like this when I needed to lie to her in order to avoid the aforementioned most embarrassing morning of my entire life. I sighed and set my coffee mug on the counter. Me: Seriously? Smoking-hot flesh? Come on! But, yeah, Jude was here. Brianna: Okay. I’m going to need you to call me for this. This is too good for a text. Me: It’s really not. He was a sweet drunk. Not so sweet sober. Said I ruined his life. At the memory, my throat thickened. I did my best to tamp it down. I’d sworn to myself that I wouldn’t cry over Jude again. Six days of wallowing were enough. This was confirmed as I stared back at hollow cheeks and dark bags under my eyes in the mirror that morning. I was a dab hand at makeup, but it’d taken me at least an hour to transform myself into a human rather than an extra on The Walking Dead. Brianna: HE SAID WHAT!?!?! Me: It’s no big deal. The phone started ringing in my hand, her name flashing on the screen. I groaned as I lifted it to my ear —but not too close because I knew what was coming. “He said you ruined his life?” she shrieked. I winced. It didn’t matter whose tongue those words rolled off. I still heard them in Jude’s deep, gravelly voice. And it still stung like a swarm of angry bees attacking me from all angles. I did my best to compose myself and not allow the hurt to seep into my voice. “Good morning to you too, Brianna.” “Yes, it would be a great morning if you were calling to tell me Jude showed up at your apartment, he stripped you naked, and you were now carrying his child.” I rolled my eyes. Minus the baby thing, it wasn’t a stretch for what had actually happened, and it

definitely would have made it a better morning to be able to tell her that also. But the Jude we were both talking about didn’t exist. And, while it sucked, I had no control over reality. I’d learned that the day my baby brother had tried to kill me—the first time. People were nonfiction. Regardless of how often my fingers ached to rewrite them. And, for a few days, as I had considered crawling into a hole and never showing my face again, my fingers had ached pretty damn badly to rewrite Jude Levitt—or at least the version he’d given me on Saturday morning. Friday-night-Jude had been nothing short of perfection. “Anyway, it’s no big deal,” I lied. “Let me tell you about the minor miracle I preformed in order to keep Johnson from finding out about the Jude fiasco.” “I couldn’t care less about Johnson unless he’s naked and in my bed. We’re talking about Jude right now.” “Apparently Johnson likes threesomes,” I announced for no other reason than to distract her. And, I mean, if you can’t tell your best friend secrets about your other best friend, what’s the point of having two of them? Brianna lived in New York, so she hadn’t actually met Johnson. However, she’d seen pictures I’d taken on the sly after she’d asked if he was hot. And, well, since he was, she’d developed a bit of a crush —or obsession, depending on who you asked. She coughed in my ear then fell completely silent. “Brianna?” “Okay, so let me rephrase. First, we are talking about Jude. And then we are discussing Johnson and his predilections in the bedroom. But, as a little teaser of that conversation, are you talking two men? He’s still gay, right?” I cleared my throat. “I quote, ‘Women are always my thing as long as there is another man on the other side of her.’ Er…something like that.” “Sweet Jesus,” she whispered. “Two years of being your best friend and I finally have a shot with him. Please, God, tell me the other man can be Devon.” One could say I was a pretty amazing friend because, for Brianna’s birthday that year, I’d forced, with threats of withholding Friday breakfast, all the guys of Guardian to take a picture holding a happy birthday sign. And that was how she had fallen in love with Devon. “I’m not thinking Devon swings that way, but when I get up there this morning, I’ll be sure to ask.” “You do that,” she replied breathily. “You’re envisioning this threesome, aren’t you?” “Shhhh… Don’t interrupt me. Devon just kissed Johnson.” “Aaaand…now, I feel nauseous.” “Damn it, Rhion! You’re ruining this!” It was a joke, but it still stung. Jude had tarnished the word ruin for me. As an author, I couldn’t afford to sacrifice words from my vocabulary. It had been hard enough when Brianna had banned moist from my books. The loss of ruin was going to…well, ruin me. “Ruining people’s lives seems to be my forte this week,” I tried to joke, but my traitorous voice broke at the end. “Shit,” she mumbled. “Let’s get back to that asshole.” “Look, I need to go. The guys’ breakfast should be here any minute.” “Don’t you dare try to get out of this. Talk, Rhion.” Leaning my hip against the counter, I stared blankly across my kitchen to the pantry door. The pantry door he’d followed me through when I’d tried to hide just before confessing that I’d never

stopped thinking about him. The pantry door he’d pinned me against as his mouth had worked my neck so deliciously that my knees had nearly given out. The pantry door I’d guided him through when he’d traced his fingers over my peaked nipple and declared that he’d wanted to see all of me—feel all of me. “He was real,” I whispered. “He didn’t hate me. He said he never did. Yes, he was drunk, Bri, but I swear to you he was real.” “Rhion—” I talked over her. “He apologized as if the fire had been his fault. He kept repeating the word ‘mine’ as he traced my scars. Not my tattoos. My scars.” I lazily traced the seams beneath my ink. A chill shook my shoulders at the memory of his fingers there. His warmth. Jude. My Jude. “When I glided a hand up the back of his neck, he flinched like I’d hurt him. He wouldn’t let me touch the scars under his hair. He said those were his too. That I couldn’t have them. The scars. They were all his.” “Jesus, Rhi.” “He was real,” I swore. “The man who showed up at my apartment was my Jude. He was even sweet and charming for a little while after he woke up. He was teasing me and laughing. God, Bri. His laugh.” I smiled to myself and toyed with my mother’s diamond, which was hanging from my neck. “I’m not trying to be negative here. But he was drunk. Men say stupid shit they don’t always mean when they’re drunk.” “He. Was. Real,” I defended. She sighed. “You know I love you. But I’d like to go on record as saying I think this is a bad idea.” I pushed off the counter when the doorbell rang. “How can you say it’s a bad idea? I haven’t told you what I’m going to do yet.” “Yeah, but we both know what you’re planning.” After snagging a twenty out of my wallet for the delivery guy, I headed for the door. “You don’t know anything.” “I know that you’re going to get your heart broken while trying to prove that the mysterious Jude Levitt isn’t really the dick who said you ruined his life.” I barked a laugh. “Oh, but you couldn’t be more wrong. I’ve accepted that Jude Levitt is the dick who said I ruined his life.” Tucking my phone between my shoulder and my ear, I swung the front door open as I said, “I just want to figure out who the hell the guy who showed up at my apartment on Friday night was.” “What guy?” Johnson asked, holding a huge stack of boxes filled with bagels and muffins. I squeaked at the same time Brianna yelled in my ear, “Mayday! Mayday!” My whole body flashed solid as I feigned ignorance. “What guy?” He twisted his lips and eyed me suspiciously. “That’s what I asked. What guy showed up at your apartment on Friday?” Uh oh. I laughed nervously and changed the subject. “I hope you tipped the delivery guy.” I lifted the top of the box and saw that the coveted chocolate croissant was missing and presumably already in his stomach. “What guy?” he repeated sternly. “Tell him we were plotting a new book,” Brianna whispered in my ear as if Johnson had supersonic hearing. And this was Johnson we were talking about, so he might have. I swallowed hard and pulled my shit together. Waving him off, I lied, “We were just plotting. What are you doing here?” Brianna again whispered as she urged, “Now, ask him about the threesome with Devon.”

I coughed to cover my laugh. “Bri, I need to go. I’ll call you back tonight.” “You better. I need to hear all about—” Thankfully, I managed to hit the end button before she’d gotten his name out. Shaking my head, I avoided Johnson’s gaze. “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were going to be back today.” He ignored my question. “Listen, I don’t want you coming up this morning. Levitt’s in the office.” Yes. But which one? The gentle guy who melted my insides on Friday night or the jerk from Saturday morning? “Well, he does work there,” I smarted as I walked to the hall closet. Then I grabbed my puffy, pink coat and shrugged it on. He stepped in front of me, blocking my way to the door, and stated definitively, “You’re not coming up.” I fiddled with the zipper on my jacket. “When did it get so damn cold? I swear, last week, it was still shorts-and-flip-flops weather.” “Rhion,” he snapped. “I have to leave in an hour. We can’t do the Jude thing this morning.” No. An hour wouldn’t have been enough time to do his “Jude thing.” That being the one where I’d get nervous, ramble, and ultimately end up rushing back to hide in my apartment. However, an hour was more than enough time for me to do my “Jude thing.” That being the one where I’d observe what he’s like sober and do a little detective work to decide who the hell he really is. “Johnson,” I said in a patronizing tone. “I told you on the phone on Sunday I’m done stressing about Jude. He’s just a regular man.” With split personalities. “So what if we have a little, tiny smidge of a history together.” Where he saved my life and I’ve been obsessing about him for four years, meanwhile he thinks I ruined his life. He shifted the pile of bakery boxes to balance on one of his bear-sized paws and then reached out to catch my arm. I dodged him. “Rhion,” he called behind me, but he was too late. I was already out the door and heading to the elevator. “Stop,” he growled. “You know what? I haven’t worked out all week. I’m gonna take the stairs.” “Rhion, fucking wait!” he ordered, fumbling with the boxes to get my door shut. “See you upstairs,” I called right before the heavy, metal door of the emergency exit clicked behind me. With the hurdle of getting past Johnson out of the way, I stopped at the first stair and sank to my ass. My nerves rolled and my lungs burned, the heavy burden of my life settling on my shoulders. I could do this though. What’s the worst he could say? “His girlfriend back there ruined my life years ago.” Oh, right. But, the night before, it had been a murmured, “This is where you belong, Butterfly,” as he’d held me impossibly tight against his chest. I tried to focus on that. “It’s just Jude,” I breathed to myself and buried my face in my hands. And then I flew to my feet when I heard, “April, do not start this shit with me,” snarled above me. Oh God. My heart lurched as the deep rumble of his voice echoed through the stairwell. Turning to the side, I leaned back so I could see up to the landing at the top. A navy suit covered his lanky frame, and a white dress shirt, sans a tie, showed through his unbuttoned

jacket. His eyes were wrenched closed, and he was pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand while holding the phone to his ear with the other. April? Is he married? Sweet Jesus, did I sexually assault a married man? Wait. He didn’t have a ring on. But maybe that is the “shit” she is starting with him. Does she know? I kept watching him pace. And I’ll be damned if, even pissed off and possibly married, he wasn’t still gorgeous. “Then drop her off with me,” he growled. Her who? Does he have kids? Please, God, let it be a Pomeranian they share custody of. Pause. Pause. Pause. Grunt. Boom. “Then change your fucking ticket! You pulled her out of school for three days. The least you could do is let her spend time with me. She has no business going to New York, and I don’t give a single fuck who Kevin knows in the city. You aren’t leaving her to sit in a hotel with a stranger.” Nope. Probably not a Pomeranian. Were there little, green-eyed babies being left in hotels with strangers? And who the hell is Kevin? Pause. Pause. Pause. He scoffed, “Pay for it?” Pause. Pause. Pause. Pay for what? my mind screamed. Thankfully, my mouth remained closed and I leaned even farther to the side to keep him in my sights. Movement in front of me caught my attention. Johnson stood in the doorway, still holding half of a bakery display in his arms and sporting a scowl that could make grown men cower. It just made me roll my eyes. Waving my hands frantically, I shooed him away. “Go!” I mouthed urgently. He didn’t budge, but his glare turned worrisome. He leaned into the stairwell and lifted his gaze to the top. Rising to my feet, I shoved at his shoulder and shot him a pair of impatient eyes. “Seriously, go!” I screamed without making a sound. He knowingly shook his head but finally gave in and backed out. Relieved, I caught the door so it didn’t slam and quietly guided it shut, and then I promptly went back to creeping. “Swear to God, woman,” Jude rumbled. “Do you get alerts any time money lands in my bank account, or is it a natural talent?” Pause. Pause. Huff. “Yeah. Fine. Okay. I’ll pay. Send me the receipts and new itinerary.” I couldn’t see him, but I assumed he’d ended the call because I heard a loud bang on the metal door as though he’d hit it and a roared, “Fuck!” I jumped and stifled a squeak.

And then I jumped again, completely unable to stifle the squeak when I heard him ask, “What did you mean when you said, ‘It’s just Jude’?” Uh oh. Maybe he was still on the phone. Please, God, let him still be on the phone. “Rhion,” he called. I saw his feet start down the stairs. Holy fillet of fuck. I scrambled toward the door, but I wasn’t fast enough for a pissed-off Jude Levitt, because no sooner than I’d pulled the door open, his hand went over my head and slammed it back shut. Closing my eyes, I cursed under my breath. I was trapped, his tall body looming over me, the heat radiating off him sending a chill down my spine. “It’s rude to eavesdrop,” he whispered. My shiver intensified when I felt his warm breath at the top of my head. I didn’t reply and instead scooted until my front was flush with the door. Unfortunately—er…I mean, fortunately—he didn’t follow me forward. “What did you mean when you said, ‘It’s just Jude’?” he prompted. It had always been just Jude. Including when he’d unknowingly broken my heart on Saturday morning. I kept my lips sealed and pushed off the metal door for fear he’d hear the drumming of my heart against it. He kept me caged in. “So, we went from paragraphs to silence?” he murmured in that voice that held equal amounts of playfulness and raw sex. It was the same one he’d used in my pantry when he’d asked me to forgive him, seconds before our mouths had crashed together. The same one that, right then, forced the breathy, “Jude,” from my lips before I could stop it. Drunkenly, I swayed into him, his firm chest pressing against my back. He lowered his head, the scruff of his jaw raking against my temple as he murmured, “It seems you’re shit at answering my questions, Rhion.” I was shit at damn near everything with him that close to me. And that included forming full thoughts or complete sentences. His hand lowered to my hip, where he gave me a squeeze before rocking me back against his hips. Oh. My. God.



I’d tagged Rhion the moment she’d entered the stairwell. April was spewing an ungodly amount of bullshit in my ear, but as soon I leaned over the railing and spotted the red tips of her hair, I tuned April out. Rhion was wearing a ridiculous pink bubble coat that made her look more like a teenager than twentysix. But, thanks to my good friend Jack Daniel’s, I knew she was all woman underneath that silly jacket. Flashes of Friday night assaulted me. Her skilled tongue gliding with mine. Her soft breasts pressed against my chest. Her round ass filling my palms as I ground her against my cock. And then, as I watched her bury her face in her hands and sink down to the step, I was assaulted by an onslaught of different memories. Her pained jerk when I told her I didn’t remember. The agony carved in her face when I told Devon that she’d ruined my life. Her hollow eyes as she told me that her version of me was better. I still didn’t know what she’d meant by that. But it gutted me all the same. As I stood there, staring down at her, debating if I should make my presence known or duck out into the breezeway and let her be, I heard her whisper, “It’s just Jude.” The sound of my name rolling off her tongue hit my system like a lit match. All week, she’d been on my mind. Rhion was in my head, under my skin, and—scariest of all—in my dreams. Not nightmares. Dreams. Each morning when I’d climbed on that elevator, I’d stared at the button for the third floor, itching to press it. But I’d forced myself to stay away. I’d fucked up. And, in the process, hurt her. Again. It was the story of my life when it came to Rhion. If I’d been any kind of man at all, I’d have left her alone in that stairwell. But, even after acknowledging that, I started down the stairs, heading straight for her when April’s voice in my ear had pulled me up short. She was taking Val out of school for a few days in order to take a last-minute trip to New York with Kevin. This meant Val wouldn’t be able to miss more school the following weekend when I’d planned to fly out for a four-day weekend. I had a sneaking suspicion this was done on purpose, considering I was now paying for April and Val’s flight with a layover in Chicago so she could drop her off with me. I was fully aware that Rhion was listening to my conversation. After I’d made a royal ass out of myself in front of her, I was just happy she was still interested in me enough to care what I was talking about. Rhion’s whispered, “It’s just Jude,” rang in my ears as I hurried April off the phone. I didn’t have a grand to spend on plane tickets. And, honestly, that weekend was inconvenient as hell, considering I was

scheduled to work on Saturday. But, if it got me Val and off the phone with April so I could try to have a civil conversation with Rhion, it would be well worth it. Only the moment I’d reached her and her back had pressed against my chest, a conversation with her was the last thing on my mind. And, when her ass in those tight jeans had become flush with my zipper, there had been nothing civil about what I wanted to do with her anymore. “Can we talk?” I asked. Dropping my forearm to the door, I bent lower and dipped my mouth to her ear. “Please.” “Jude,” she breathed. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, as if I could absorb the sound. Fuck. That felt almost as good as her body tucked against mine. “All I need is five minutes, Rhion.” “Can we do it without me pinned to a door?” she asked, but there was no attitude behind it. I smiled because she wasn’t pinned to a door. She was pinned to me, and as she asked the question, she’d shifted closer. “All you gotta do is ask me to move, sweetheart,” I rasped. Her breathing sped as she seemingly weighed her options. After a few seconds, she whispered, “Just talk.” My grin widened. She couldn’t deny the magnetism between us any more than I could. “I was a dick,” I stated. Her shoulders sagged as she blew a relieved sigh out. “You really were.” “I’m sorry. I never should have shown up at your apartment, drunk like that.” She craned her head back and peered up at me expectantly. “That wasn’t the part where you were a dick.” I arched an eyebrow and shot her a pointed glare. “Maybe you should fill me in so I know what to apologize for.” “Okay, maybe that was what you should apologize for,” she lied softly. “You’re still taking the stance that nothing happened?” I leaned down until my lips were once again at her ear. “I know that isn’t true. Memories have a way of finding their way back over time.” At least mine did. I’d been cursed with flashes of that night with Rhion all week. Some of them had been innocent. Most of them had not. Her entire body jerked in a way that took her away from me. One sentence and the invisible ties that drew her to me became a brick wall dividing us. The loss hit me harder than I would have ever expected. I wanted her back. “Move,” she said, grabbing the handle before giving it a firm pull. My forearm kept it sealed shut. “No,” I rumbled, giving her hip another squeeze in an effort to bring her back into me, but she didn’t budge. “I’m starting to remember what happened. But I need you to fill me in on why and how it happened, Rhion. You said we talked. Start with that.” She moved all at once, her hand leaving the door, her torso twisting to the side, her knees bending, and her feet shuffling as she ducked under my arm. I turned with her, but she backed away, moving up the steps. “Why are you always runnin’ from me?” I bit out. With long strides, I advanced toward her. She scrambled back, tripping when the heel of her shoe clipped the edge of a stair. Hooking an arm around her waist, I caught her before she fell and tugged her against me. Her soft curves molded around my hard planes, and a growl rumbled in my chest at how fucking right it felt. Sparks fired off in my veins, the likes of which I’d never felt with a woman before. And they did this for Rhion fucking Park. Christ. I needed to be institutionalized. The craziness at Guardian must have been contagious.

As I took the final steps up to the landing with her in my arms, her feet dangling off the floor, I ordered, “Talk to me.” She shoved at my chest and squirmed in my arms, but it was all for show. There was no fight behind it. “You said it was a mistake. Let’s just forget it ever happened,” she pleaded. I shook my head and grumbled, “I tried for four years to forget about you, Rhion. It never happened. This isn’t gonna be any different.” Her mouth fell open. “You never…” I gentled my voice as I begged, “All I’m asking is for you to help me remember.” “It was noth—” “Don’t say nothing.” Sliding her down my front, I placed her back on her feet. Bending to keep our faces close, I backed her against the door. Her breath caught when her shoulders hit the wall, or perhaps it was because my hand had slipped down to her ass. “You opened your legs for me like you were welcoming me home,” I announced, using her ass to grind her against me. “You were fucking drenched, Rhion.” Her lips parted as something between a gasp and a moan escaped in the sound of, “Uh oh.” “Yeah, baby. I remember. Not all of it. But enough to know something happened—something huge and something I remember enjoying a fuckuvalot. And something I’d fucking kill to have happen again. But I still don’t know what started that something. So I’m gonna need you to open that sexy little mouth of yours and fill me in.” That was in no way what I had planned to say to her when I finally got the chance to see her again. I should have been apologizing. But I couldn’t. Not with her that close, the smell of coconut filling my senses. She once again became pliable, and a shy smile played at the side of her mouth. “You’d kill to have it happen again?” Fuck. I would have. If being with her was even half as good as my drunken memories, I’d wage wars with innocent men to get her back there. No matter how fucked up and confusing it might have been. “And, judging by the way you react to me, I know you feel it too,” I said. Her minty breath whispered across my lips as she asked, “How do I react to you, Jude?” She slid her hand up to my shoulders and then up my neck and under my hair. My skin crawled at the contact, and I reached up and caught her wrist. Pinning her hand to the wall beside her head, I dropped my forehead to hers and grazed the backs of two fingers over the smooth skin at her cheek, taking great pride as it heated beneath my touch. “Like you can’t decide if you want to melt into me and stay forever or disappear so you never have to see me again,” I told her. “Jude,” she breathed. I growled and dipped my head lower. Her tongue snaked out as she dampened her lips, stealing my attention. I wanted that tongue at my lips like I wanted my next breath. To taste her without the effects of alcohol diluting my senses. “Which is it, Rhion?” She pressed up onto her toes and ghosted her lips across mine. “Right now, I want to melt.” “Thank fuck,” I rasped, because there were no words to explain how much I wanted that too. I swallowed hard and held her gaze. Pink cheeks. Sultry eyes. Damp lips. Never once after the fire had I ever thought of Rhion in a sexual way. For four years, she’d haunted me. My failures. My guilt over the roof and, worse, the alcohol. But, over the last week, with constant flashes of her invading my mind, some wires had gotten crossed and completely reprogrammed my

already-fucked-up brain. “Who are you, Jude?” she whispered, sliding her free hand under my suit coat, her nails biting into my back as she fisted my shirt. It was an odd question, but I had an honest answer. “I don’t know right now.” She brushed her nose with mine, murmuring, “Okay, then tell me what you want. And we’ll figure it out together.” My hand tracing that fiery butterfly on your naked chest as you ride my cock. Unable to help myself, I glided my hand down her side, allowing my thumb to trail over the curve of her breast. An encouraging moan fluttered through her parted lips. You in my bed, my mouth between your legs, where I’d make damn sure your eyes would be filled with ecstasy instead of pain. She arched off the wall, pressing her breasts into my chest as she tugged me closer. You up on all fours, your ass in the air, the red tips of your hair tickling my thighs, my cock disappearing into the back of your throat. Seconds before my body convinced my mind to take her to mouth, a rational thought finally made it through the sexual fog. This was Rhion. Just standing in that stairwell with her was fucked up on more levels than I’d ever be able to count. Much less having her pinned against a wall with my cock thick against her stomach as I ached to drive into her. What the hell was I doing? My better judgment finally prevailed. “No!” she gasped as I pushed off her. I gripped the back of my neck and began to pace the small corridor. “Fuck,” I grumbled, mentally arguing with my body as it screamed deafeningly loudly. “Jude,” she breathed, and like I always did, I felt it deep in my chest. In a place I had no business feeling anything for Rhion. “You should go,” I said, keeping my gaze aimed at the floor. “Before we both do something we’ll regret.” She inched toward me, asking, “What just happened?” “No,” I clipped, lifting a hand to stop her. “Stay back.” If she got close again, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. No ifs, ands, or buts about it, my mouth would be on hers before she could use those plump lips to whisper my name. “For fuck’s sake, please go!” I ordered, giving her my back. I expected her to jump and scramble away from me, tucking her tail and running like she seemed to do so often. I couldn’t have been more wrong. A laugh bubbled from her throat. A real, honest-to-God, schoolgirl giggle. Planting my hands at my hips, I turned back to face her and eyed her suspiciously. “You’re freaking out,” she declared. My eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?” She smiled, and it was hands down the most spectacular thing I’d ever witnessed. “Holy shit, Jude. You’re freaking out.” I was. Absolutely. One hundred percent. Mainly because I was being a dick…again. And, now, she was looking up at me while smiling wider than I’d ever thought a mouth could be stretched. “It’s okay to freak out sometimes.” She swung a finger toward the door I’d had her pinned against.

“When something feels that right, it’s bound to make you question all the things you thought you knew. Don’t try to explain it. Or understand it. You just have to feel it.” I blinked. What the fuck was this woman talking about? And how was her read on this situation so accurate? “You’re crazy,” I informed, because I was starting to think she really was. She aimed that brilliant, white smile in my direction and coupled it with a wink. A. Fucking. Wink. Christ, you didn’t even have to work at Guardian to catch the crazies. Apparently, it seeped through the floors and infected the neighbors too. “Am I, Jude?” I raked a hand through the top of my hair. “I’m thinkin’ it’s a strong possibility.” “Because those were the exact words you said”—she swayed her sexy, smiling face from side to side as she corrected herself—“or actually slurred to me on Friday night when I was freaking out.” I turned to stone, but my mind suddenly found the superhuman strength to concentrate on something that wasn’t her mouth or her body. “Wait. What? I said that to you? About what? What were you freaking out about?” She shook her head and turned to the door. Then she paused to peek at me over her shoulder. “You’re real. This guy. Friday night and again right now. It’s who you really are.” She barked an I-told-you-so laugh. “I knew it!” Yep. Pure fucking head case. “What does that mean?” I shouted, lunging for the door, but she was already squeezing through it. “You can’t leave me with that bullshit,” I said, following her out. “Quit playing goddamn games and tell me what the fuck happened Friday night already.” She didn’t reply. Someone else did though. “Friday night?” Johnson rumbled as he suddenly appeared beside the door.



“Shit!” I yelled, jumping back at least a foot and slamming into Jude’s chest as he emerged from the stairwell. “Don’t scare me like that!” I gave Johnson a hard shove, which did absolutely nothing to move him out of my path. But that was completely okay with me. I wasn’t going anywhere. Not after Jude’s arm had protectively wrapped around my waist. Johnson didn’t miss it. His gaze pointedly dropped to the hand splayed across my stomach then back up to Jude. “Something I should know about Friday night?” My huge smile returned. “Yes. Actually—” Jude’s hand spasmed as he told Johnson, “You and me should talk. In private.” I glanced over my shoulder and found his stoic gaze locked on Johnson. “I’m thinkin’ that’d be good,” Johnson replied, menacingly cocking his head. “Though I’m thinkin’ that conversation should have happened before whatever the fuck happened on Friday night.” “Agreed,” Jude replied curtly. “But it didn’t. So now’s gonna have to do.” Wait. Wait. What? “What conversation?” I asked, swinging my gaze between the two equally pissed-off men. Jude’s arm tightened around me as he murmured, “Go home. I’ll be down in a little while.” While my insides flashed warm about the idea of him being “down in a little while,” I was still confused about what Jude and Johnson were going to chat about. And the longer I thought about it, the less I wanted said talk to happen. Johnson knew entirely too much about me. Things I’d eventually fill Jude in on. Keyword: eventually. No one saddles the new man in their life with baggage right out of the gate. And, after that little pinning-me-against-the-wall bit in the stairwell, I had every intention of making Jude the new man in my life. “I’m not going anywhere. You two have nothing to talk about,” I announced. “Babe,” Johnson answered at the same time Jude said, “Sweetheart.” “Don’t alpha pet-name me!” I exclaimed. “You two have nothing to talk about. Actually, as of right this second, Jude, I forbid you from ever talking to Johnson.” Jude’s chest got tight at my back, and when I glanced up, he was staring down at me like I had three heads. “Never,” I confirmed just to make sure he understood the seriousness of this situation. His eyes turned dark, and not in the sexy way—well, okay, it was still pretty sexy, but also a little scary too. “You forbid me?” he said slowly. “Prohibit. Ban. Outlaw. I also forbid you from listening to him. If he starts talking, you run. Got it?” “Run?” he asked, incredulous. His expression remained hard, but when I nodded, his lips twitched. Gorgeous.

I couldn’t afford to get lost on Jude’s mouth until I was positive my point had been made. “Sprint. Race. Dash.” Johnson piped up. “Babe, he works for me. He can’t run every time he sees me.” I kept my focus on Jude. And this was because he was still holding me securely against his chest and still staring down at me, but his face had softened, so I was back to having only one head. When my cheeks heated, I hid it by looking back to Johnson. “Right, okay. Well, you work for me. So, how about this? I forbid you from talking to Jude. You can listen to him though. That should make things slightly less awkward around the office.” Johnson stared at me blankly and announced, “I don’t work for you.” I scoffed. “Oh, really? Did the adoption paperwork come through and I don’t know about it yet?” Jude’s body turned to stone. “Adoption paperwork?” Johnson smirked and shrugged. “I refused to marry her.” Jude released me so fast that you’d have thought he’d been struck by lightning. “Marry her?” he breathed ominously. I spun to face Jude. “It wasn’t a real proposal.” He gripped the back of his neck and clipped, “A fake proposal, then. That’s good to know.” Only he said it in a way that said that it really wasn’t good to know. Nerves buzzed in my stomach and, as they seemed to do so often with Jude, escaped in the form of words. “I was just trying to save some money, so I asked him to move in.” Jude’s eyes darkened—in the scary way. “I mean…not like that. We would have had separate bedrooms and sneak people in in the middle of the night. I’m not his type anyway. Full disclosure: I thought he was hot when I first met him, because look at him.” I pointed toward Johnson. Utter disbelief flashed on Jude’s face. Uh Oh. I kept rambling. “But then we started spending time together and it turned into something totally different.” “Right,” Jude snapped. Shit! “No! Not that kind of different. I mean, we’re tight, but I’ve never seen him naked. Except that one time…” I thought his eyes would bulge from his head. I waved the rest of the thought off. “You know what? That doesn’t even count. It was an accident.” Johnson chuckled behind me. How could I write one-hundred-thousand-word novels but not string together a complete thought to explain my relationship with Johnson. What the hell was wrong with me? Oh, right. Jude. “He likes men!” I finally blurted. Jude blinked, and Johnson let out a burst of curses. “Which…there’s nothing wrong with.” Why can’t I shut up! “I just don’t have the right equipment for that. But that’s okay. Once I got to know him, I quickly realized that he wasn’t my type, either. Not to say that he’s not a real catch. He’d make someone a great husband. Unfortunately, his boyfriend didn’t realize that and cheated on him about a year ago.” “Jesus Christ,” Johnson mumbled. Jude’s eyebrows popped up in an unbelievably sexy display of shock. Surprise, surprise. My mouth kept moving. “I still want to egg his house, but Johnson refuses to take me.” Suddenly, Jude’s mouth twitched and his face gentled. “Rhion, stop fucking talking,” Johnson growled.

“I can’t!” I slapped a hand over my mouth. “I think what she means is we aren’t together, Levitt. I’m her bodyguard.” Jude’s lips turned up in a full grin as I nodded, my face so hot with embarrassment it was a wonder I didn’t spontaneously combust. “Yeah. That,” I mumbled from behind my hand. “Paragraphs,” he grunted, tugging me against his chest. I went willingly, keeping my mouth closed. Partially because I feared what else would come out. Partially because, as his arms folded around me, my nerves faded away. “Now that we’ve got my life story out of the way, someone wanna to fill me in on what the fuck is going on here?” Johnson demanded. “Well, ” I started. “Quiet, Butterfly,” Jude rumbled as his arms flexed around me. My breath caught in my throat. Butterfly. I didn’t even care that it had been preceded by a rude order to be quiet. He was sober. And I was still Butterfly. Oh my God. I curled in closer, a huge smile splitting my mouth. “I got drunk,” he announced to Johnson. “Went back to Rhion’s on Friday night. I don’t remember much. And she’s refusing to fill me in. But, as you can see, some things happened between us. But, if what Rhion so eloquently told me about you two is true, then none of it’s your concern.” “That’s where you’re wrong. Everything to do with her is my concern.” Uh oh. “I’m starving!” I said on a rush. “We should probably get inside before all the food’s gone.” I grabbed Jude’s hand and started toward the door. Only Jude was huge and had me by a lot of inches and a lot of pounds. So, instead of following me in, he remained rooted in place. “Come on. I bring breakfast so I can hang out with the guys every Friday morning. Besides, don’t you have a team meeting?” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder and partitioned my mouth off with a hand while saying loudly, “I hear the boss is a real dick if you’re late.” Jude’s lips did that twitch I was quickly falling in love with, and when I released a dreamy sigh, it transformed into a full grin. “I do have a meeting,” he confirmed. “Maybe we can talk tonight? I could make dinner,” I offered, hope swirling inside me. “I can’t.” “Oh. Um…that’s okay. Some other time.” “Val. She’s flying in tonight,” he stated as if I should have remembered. “Oh, right. The phone call.” I smiled sheepishly. “Is she by chance a Pomeranian?” He laughed. “What? No. She’s my stepdaughter.” My hand jumped to my mother’s diamond as I quietly asked, “Like your wife’s daughter?” He smirked knowingly and tucked a stray hair behind my ear. “Ex-wife’s daughter.” “Oh,” I breathed. “Let’s get you inside and out of the cold,” he said, placing a hand on the small of my back to guide me with him. I strategically avoided Johnson’s gaze. I’d deal with his shit later. Right then, I had Jude—my Jude, not the asshole Jude. I was going to take full advantage of it. When we got inside the office, Jude’s smile fell away almost as fast as his hand. I hated it because all I wanted to do was walk in and introduce my new guy to all of my friends. However, they were his coworkers and Jude didn’t seem like the type who would be big on PDA. Not to mention that teensy, tiny problem: He wasn’t actually my new guy.

Not yet, anyway. For ten minutes, I felt Jude watching me as I made my way around the room, exchanging hugs and conversation with everyone. He kept his distance, but it was always the same distance. I moved. Jude moved with me. It was kind of sweet. When I’d finished making my rounds, I sat down and went to work on a blueberry muffin. Jude walked past the two chairs on either side of me and settled into the one at the end of the table. Turning to the side, he crossed his long legs ankle to knee. I bit my lip to stifle a laugh. He was wearing one navy dress sock and one black. “You know,” I said, sliding down the table with my plate until I was in the chair beside him. “Avoiding me is going to ping on more radars than just talking to me.” “Two sentences. I’m impressed. And I’m not avoiding you. I’m observing.” “Funny. I’m observing you too.” I pointed to his socks. “Shit,” he rumbled. “Looks like someone got dressed in the dark.” He uncrossed his legs and shoved them under the table. “Actually, I’m colorblind.” “Oh crap. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s not a big difference. Really. No one will notice.” “Relax. I was kidding. I got dressed in the dark.” Slowly, he tipped his head back, revealing a mouthwatering smile and a pair of green eyes dancing with humor. I glanced up and saw Devon standing across the room, carefully studying our exchange. His forehead was wrinkled in concern, but when he saw he’d been busted, he shot me a wink. Jude saw this too. “You two tight?” he asked. I abandoned my muffin and brushed my fingers off over the plate. “I’m tight with all the guys.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned back in his chair. “They seem to be pretty fond of you. I’ve been pulled aside and threatened with bodily harm every day this week.” “I wish I could apologize, but you kinda deserved it.” “I did,” he agreed immediately. “And, for the record, I’m sorry.” “So…did you observe anything good?” I asked to change the subject. “Actually, yes.” I leaned in close and whispered, “Anything you care to share?” He shrugged and lifted his coffee to his lips while keeping his gaze trained on mine. “I don’t know,” he said, setting it down. “You have anything to share about Friday night?” I smiled. “Are you proposing a mutually beneficial exchange of information?” “Perhaps.” I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs. His gaze drifted down, sliding all the way to my ballet flats then back up again. I fought the chill. And lost. His lips seductively curled up. “So, what do you say?” I steepled my fingers under my chin. “Depends. What kind of information could you possibly have that I’d want to know?” He tipped his chin at the men huddled around the boxes on the counter. “Well, one of your so-called friends is avoiding you. Another is talking shit behind your back. And another wants to fuck you so hard that his balls are aching. Tell me why you were freaking out on Friday night and I’ll fill in the names for you.” “No fucking way,” I exhaled dramatically. “Way,” he confirmed, leaning forward and propping himself on a forearm. “Now, spill it. I remember following you into the pantry. You were crying, but I can’t for the life of me remember why. What were we talking about?”

I leaned in until I was only inches away from his face and kept my voice low. “I meant no fucking way am I taking that bait. I already know the answers.” He arched an eyebrow and twisted his lips. “Okay, then, little Ms. Know It All—who’s avoiding you?” I laughed. “Leo. He’s been avoiding me ever since I put the menu for this year’s Thanksgiving dinner on his desk. See, I’m the official—or unofficial, depending on who you ask—planner and host of Guardian’s Thanksgiving Feast. It’s only unofficial because Leo took my title away last year when Johnson ratted me out for not sticking to the budget. Yes, it was an extra three thousand dollars out of my own pocket, but I hired a chef and a full staff. My boys work hard and deserve more than just a turkey and boxed stuffing. They don’t half-ass anything when it comes to me. So yeah, I said fuck the budget and fullassed Thanksgiving. Leo will get over it.” I shrugged. “He kinda has to, considering I’ve already booked the chef again.” I lifted a finger in the air and added, “Third Thursday in November. My place. Save the date.” He barely contained his mirth as he said, “You full-assed Thanksgiving?” “Damn straight.” That time, his lips didn’t twitch; they jumped straight into a grin. I raked my teeth over my bottom lip, and he followed the movement with his eyes. Still watching my mouth, he prompted, “And the one talking shit?” “Devon. Let me guess: He’s telling everyone I’m a stripper?” His brow furrowed. “You know about this?” I clutched a hand over my heart. “Awww, I love that he’s been talking about me. It means he’s thinking about me.” “No. What it means is he’s thinking about you naked and on a pole.” I waved him off. “Devon’s harmless.” “Harmless, yes. But he’s telling everyone in a fifty-mile radius that you’re a stripper.” “Nah, he knows better than that. No one believes him anyway. You’ll find all of the guys think I have a different job. I like to keep them on their toes.” I made a show of glancing around us, and then I whispered, “Truth is I’m actually an aquatic veterinarian to the stars. Mum’s the word.” “Aquatic veterinarian to the stars,” he repeated dryly. “Yep. You can call me Dr. Koi.” “Jesus Christ. You really are crazy.” “Actually, what I am is private,” I informed. “Unfortunately, I’m also very social. Making friends is hard when you aren’t willing to tell them what you do for a living. And you’ll learn that the men of Guardian are more than just my friends. They’re my family. So yeah, they all get a different piece of me that allows them to accept me into their life, all while I keep my personal life private.” He eyed me curiously. “And my piece of you is an aquatic veterinarian to the stars?” “For now.” I grinned. “Right. And what about Johnson? What kinda piece of you does he have?” he asked in the rough tone of Asshole Jude. Only it made my stomach flutter this time. Was he jealous? “Johnson’s…different.” “Right. Of course,” he said, jerking his chin to someone over my shoulder. “What’s up, man?” Lark twisted the chair beside me around and then straddled it, crossing his arms over the back of it. “Devon says you’re looking for a babysitter.” “Desperately,” Jude sighed. “My stepdaughter’s flying in tonight. But I’ve got the senator’s son detail on Saturday. You know someone reliable?” “I do. She’s fucking amazing. I fear sometimes my girls love her more than they do me.”

“Think I can get her number?” “Sure.” Lark cupped my shoulder. “Rhion, give Levitt your number.” Jude blinked. I smiled huge. “I’d be happy to watch her.” “Um…” He stalled, flashing his gaze to Lark. “Is the babysitter gig a piece of you?” “No. Lark thinks I’m a tattoo artist.” Lark looked at me in disgust. “I’m sorry. I think you’re a tattoo artist? Are you not?” I patted his arm. “Of course I am, honey.” I tossed Jude a wink that made him chuckle. “All I meant is that babysitting is a real piece of me. I love kids. I keep Lark’s girls at least once a month. And I sit for Leo and Sarah sometimes, too.” “Holy shit,” Lark breathed. “If you don’t do tattoos, are you seriously a stripper?” “Shh…” I urged, leveling him with a glare that made Jude’s chuckle become a belly laugh. Lark turned his disbelief on Jude. To which Jude shrugged and said, “Mum’s the word.” I didn’t know much about Jude. Whether he was a Republican or Democrat. If he liked football or baseball. If he liked his eggs scrambled or fried. But, right then, a piece of me fell in love with him. Lark cussed under his breath, and I felt him staring at me, but my gaze remained anchored to Jude’s smirking face. A few seconds later, Johnson announced that team meetings were about to start and Lark got up and left. Jude never tore his eyes off me as he folded out of his chair and then rose to his feet. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched him bend, his mouth heading toward me. I prepared myself by licking my lips. He was going to kiss me. I was sure of it. He didn’t. But what he did do was whisper in my ear, “It was me.” “What?” I breathed, swaying toward him. His hand caught the back of my neck. “The third guy. That was me.” My breath caught. “One of your so-called friends is avoiding you. Another is talking shit behind your back. And another wants to fuck you so hard that his balls are aching.” A fire consumed me as he right himself. The kind of fire that burned within and only he could extinguish. “Jude,” I whispered. He dropped his hand, but I still felt it on the back of my head as if he’d branded me. The sweetest burn of all. “I’ll get your number from Lark and text you the details about Saturday.” If the hummingbirds in my stomach were any indication, the second I opened my mouth, a short story was going to come out. I saved myself the embarrassment and him the time by going with a short nod.



“It’ll be fine,” she assured. “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right,” I told the windshield of my Jeep as I drove toward Guardian. Val’s hand landed on my forearm and she squeezed. “Seriously, Jude. Chill. I’m eleven. The worst that could happen is she allows me to watch an R-rated movie.” Or my worst nightmare could become a reality and I’ll find you both hanging out of the balcony window with flames shooting out around you. Lark, Leo, and Sarah all assured me that Rhion was the best of the best when it came to kids, but I was still on edge about leaving Val. However, part of that probably had more to do with Val than it did Rhion. Ever since I’d picked her up at the airport the night before, she’d been acting strange. She was too quiet. Too withdrawn. Too…not Val. My bubbly girl with the infectious smile I’d left in LA only a few weeks earlier was not at all the sullen preteen I’d met at the airport. Sure, she’d thrown her arms around my neck and hugged me just as hard as she always had, but that was where the similarities ended. Valerie had always been thick. Her father was a three-hundred-pound former NFL linebacker. I’d figured it was genetic. It wasn’t as though she were a couch potato. She’d been a stand-out Little League softball player. However, when I’d met her at the arrival gate, it had been easy to see she’d put on a few pounds. That wasn’t the worrisome part though. For me, the alarm bells were ringing because she’d gained it so fast. It had only been weeks since I’d seen her last. And then there was the fact that she’d had a stroke when I’d told her to change into something nice when we were getting ready to go to Rhion’s. My little girl, who used to love dresses and all things pink, had packed exactly three different outfits to come to my place for the long weekend: a gray track suit, a black track suit, and a navy-blue track suit. And every single one of them was a size too big. Her hair was another huge difference. Val’s father was African American, and despite the fact that April had long, straight, blond hair, she’d gotten his dark curls. This time last year, Val would have spent an hour in the bathroom with a million different products and tools, straightening her hair into sleek locks that looked like her mom’s. Now, it was pulled up into a ponytail, which I couldn’t swear she had combed. I knew she got enough shit about her appearance from her mother, so I’d decided to keep my opinions to myself, but I would talk to April about it the first chance I got. “Smartass, I let you watch R-rated movies.” She smiled up at me. “I know. That’s why you’re my favorite.” God, I’d missed that smile. At least that was still the same. “So listen, there’s something I need to tell you about Rhion.” She ducked away from me until I lost my hold on her neck. “What kind of stupid name is Rhion for a

girl anyway? That’s a boy’s name.” “Hey,” I scolded, flicking my gaze to her. “Don’t call someone’s name stupid. She didn’t get to pick it any more than you did Valerie.” “Whatever. It’s still stupid,” she mumbled under her breath as she stared out the window. “Don’t whatever me. You know good and damn well that is not how we talk about people.” “Right. Sorry,” she muttered sarcastically at the window. Christ, if this was eleven, the real teenage years were going to be a bitch. “All right. What’s going on with you? I bit my tongue when you ignored me all morning to play on your phone, but now…” She didn’t even turn to look at me. “Val,” I called. She continued to ignore me. I raised my voice. “Valerie!” Nothing. I squeezed the ticklish spot right above her knee. “Stop!” she laughed, swatting my hand away. “Oh, look. There she is!” I teased. “Glad you could finally join me.” She laughed for a second longer before sobering. In a snotty voice, she snipped, “That was completely uncalled for.” I barked a loud laugh. “Holy hell, you sound like your mother.” She started giggling all over again. “I know! I’ve been perfecting that one all week.” She shimmied up straighter in her seat. “Listen to this one.” She dramatically cleared her throat. “Good Lord, Valerie. Take that hat off. You look like Justin Bieber.” Then she finished in April’s voice with, “Only fat and with no style.” I sucked in a sharp breath and kept my hand on her knee as my other clamped hard around steering wheel. That chat with April just got moved up from the first chance I got to the minute I could get Val out of earshot. “You’re beautiful,” I said immediately. “Your mom… She’s…” I knew that April had talked crap about me after the divorce, but I’d refused to ever follow her down that path. Especially where Val was concerned. But how did I say, Your mother is a raving, self-centered bitch who doesn’t deserve to stand in the same room with you, much less be called a mom, without it sounding bad? “So, what do I need to know about Rhion?” she asked when I didn’t finish my thought. I gritted my teeth and did my best to keep the blistering rage out of my voice as I growled, “Your mom’s wrong.” She once again attempted to steer the conversation away from her. “I guess Rhion could be a girl’s name. How’s she spell it?” “Val,” I bit out as I pulled into the underground garage at Guardian. After putting the Jeep in park, I undid my seatbelt and twisted in my seat to face her. Leaning my back against the door, I ordered, “Look at me.” Her dark-brown gaze lifted to mine, and it felt like a razor blade slicing through me. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she whispered, “I don’t want to talk about Mom anymore.” “That’s fine. You don’t have to talk. But you gotta listen to me for a minute. You know I’d never tell you to disrespect your mother. But there are certain times where I am gonna tell you to ignore her.” I cupped her jaw and tipped her head back. “This is one of those times, baby. She says stupid shit sometimes. But that’s on her—not you. Your mom’s spent her entire life trying to make you just like her, and the older you get, the clearer it’s becoming that you aren’t her mini me. You’re better.”

“Psssh. Yeah, right,” she scoffed, trying to look away. I tightened my hold and forced her gaze to remain on me. “Trust me, baby. I’m a man. Women are my specialty. And I’m telling you right here, right now. Your mom is wrong. You’re one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. And, if anyone ever tries to tell you differently, they’re gonna have to deal with me.” Her lips disappeared as she sucked them into her mouth and fought tears back. “Tell me you understand, Val,” I pushed. She didn’t say anything, but she nodded and lifted her hand to cover mine at her jaw. “Good,” I soothed. “Now, I’m gonna have a talk with your mom tonight. I don’t want you worrying about that, either.” “No! What if she—” “She’s not going to take you away from me. It’ll be fine. Trust me.” A tear finally escaped her eye as she said, “Okay.” I grinned and shifted my hand down to her neck. “Now, quit cryin’, crazy. You’re on vacation.” She sniffled and repeated, “Okay.” I touched my lips to her forehead before swinging my door open and folding out. After grabbing her messenger bag out of the backseat, she met me at the bumper. “Thanks, Jude,” she whispered, looping an arm around my hips. I draped mine over her shoulders and smarted, “Oh, don’t try being polite now. I was getting used to you ignoring me.” She giggled, and together, we strolled to the elevator. “Hey, Jude,” she said softly as I pressed the button to the third floor. “Yeah, baby?” “You, umm…think, maybe…um…we could go shopping while I’m here? It’s just I hate going with Mom.” I smirked and looked down at her. “I don’t shop, Val.” “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” She tipped her head at the ground and became enthralled with her shoes. “But, if my girl wants to go shopping, I’m gonna take her shopping.” Her head snapped up, her round face beaming at me. “Really?” I chuckled. “I’m offended by how surprised you look right now.” When the doors to the elevator opened, we both stepped off. “Good. I need some new bras. We can get those, right?” she asked. I nearly choked on my tongue as we walked to Rhion’s door. “Uh…” I wasn’t much of a shopper. But I really wasn’t much of a shopper when it came to buying bras for my preteen daughter. She giggled. “I’m kidding.” I blew a ragged breath out, which made her laugh louder. While knocking on the door, I attempted to silence her with a glower, but I could feel the smile pulling at my lips. It wasn’t until the door opened that I realized I’d never had that talk with Val about Rhion. “Holy crap!” she gasped. Rhion was wearing a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved, v-neck T-shirt, exposing not only the tattoos on her arms, but also the ones across her chest, which stopped slightly under her collarbone. My eyes were instantly drawn to the subtle cleavage. But that’s not what Val saw. “She has scars like you, Jude.” My lips thinned and I flashed a pair of wide eyes at Rhion in apology. She shot a pair right back in my direction, but a smile split her face.

After Rhion had left the office the day before, I hadn’t been able to get her off my mind. In my nightmares, I’d always thought of her as that broken butterfly teetering on the edge of death. But, after ten minutes with that crazy woman, I knew I couldn’t have been more wrong. She was very much alive. Her laugh. Her smile. Her sense of humor. Anyone would tell you Rhion Park was gorgeous. But, when she opened her mouth, it was a different kind of beauty. The kind that had a way of working under a man’s skin. Later that night, Rhion and I had exchanged a very formal thread of text messages. It was strange. It seemed, for a woman who talked in paragraphs, she typed in single syllables. Yes. No. Fine. I think the longest thing I got from her was, Okay. See you then. She could be as short as she wanted to be though; I wasn’t going to back down. Rational thought had died in that stairwell. The moment I’d lost sight of her out the door, I knew I’d follow her. The second I’d seen Johnson standing there, I had known I’d fight for her. And the moment she’d smiled up at me, I had known I’d run a mile through broken glass to keep it aimed at me. Long story short: I was fucked. I wanted her. And not just with my hands and my mouth—though I couldn’t deny that was part of it. My body came alive for that woman. But, with Rhion, I wanted more. I wanted to know what she’d been up to for the last four years. Was she happy? What was she doing in Chicago? What did she actually do for a living? Why was she so private? Did that night haunt her dreams too? And, most of all, had she thought about me even a fraction of how often I had her over the years? On one hand, I was worried that pursuing anything with her was astronomically stupid. On the other hand, I couldn’t stop myself. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… Crap.” Val looked up at me apologetically. “That was probably rude.” I opened my mouth to tell her it absolutely was, but Rhion got there first. “Nah, it wasn’t rude.” She stepped out of the way and motioned for us to come inside. “If I were ashamed, I’d cover them. But I don’t believe in long-sleeve shirts. I paid way too much money for this ink to hide it.” She shoved a colorful arm in Val’s direction. Val dragged a finger down one of the skillfully hidden seams of puckered flesh on Rhion’s forearm. The memory slammed into my brain as so many had over the last week. They were soft. Not at all like the hard, raised flesh at the back of my head. But, then again, she’d probably worn her compression garments as the doctor had recommended. Meanwhile, for the first year, I’d grown my hair out and done anything and everything I could to forget. “How’d you get them?” Val asked. Rhion’s gaze bounced to mine. I shook my head. Valerie knew all about my nightmares—probably more than April did. She knew about my Butterfly. But she didn’t know about my failures that had earned us both those scars. And I was nowhere near ready to cop to those in front of the little girl who thought I’d hung the moon. “Well…” Rhion started, glancing back down to Val. “A few years ago, I got into a fight with a bear. He was a real jerk who thought he could walk up to my campsite and steal my picnic basket. Clearly, he underestimated how much I like to eat. I walked away with these. But he’s now the world’s first hairless bear. Don’t worry. I gave him the name of my tattoo artist and she inked him on some pants.” Her gaze drifted back up to me, a gorgeous grin pulling at her lips, a light dancing in her eyes, which nearly knocked me back a step. Fuck. This woman. “Nuh-uh,” Val laughed as something weird happened in my chest. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but it felt as though a single PSI of pressure had been released from

inside me. It had been so long since I’d felt even an ounce of relief, and that tiny amount might as well have been a boulder. And all it had taken was an absurd story and a smile to make it happen. “You can go put your stuff on the couch. I made some cookies. They’re still warm if you want to grab one out of the kitchen,” Rhion told Val. “Awesome,” Val replied, turning to hug my hips before hurrying away. Rhion crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her biceps for warmth. Shyly peering up at me through her long, painted-black lashes, she whispered, “Hey.” Fuck, shy was cute on her. It was almost better than the flirty and the crazy she’d given me the day before. Almost. “Hey,” I returned with a smirk. Taking the hint, I stepped in and closed the door. Her painted nails toyed with her necklace as though she didn’t know how to act around me. And, truth be told, I wasn’t sure, either. We’d shared something. A lot of somethings, actually. Most of them bad, but in the last week, some of them had been really fucking good. So good that I was willing to risk destroying the only woman I’d ever needed to protect in order to have that good again. I hooked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against my chest. She came willingly, her hand landing on my abs as she molded around me. I looked over the top of her head to see Valerie watching us, a grin coloring her face as she flashed her gaze down to Rhion and then back to me. I scowled, but only to keep from grinning back at her. “I gotta go, babe,” I mumbled to Rhion as I released her. “But we gotta talk about shit before I do.” She sucked in a deep breath and reluctantly stepped away. “Um…what kind of shit?” “Well, we actually have a lot of shit to talk about. Predominantly about me being a dick…again. And then again about me not being a dick, and you melting for me the way you seem to do when you aren’t talking a million miles an hour. But, for now, until we can get some time alone later tonight, we need to discuss shit about Valerie.” Her hand flew to her necklace. “Tonight?” “Did I forget to mention that, when I get back, we’re gonna talk?” “Alone? Us?” I trailed my fingers down the side of her neck and lowered my voice. “I’m hoping that talk is gonna end with your mouth on mine. So, yeah, Rhion. Alone is probably best.” She gaped at me, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. “But, first, I have to go to work, listen to four hours of mind-numbing political speeches, and then ensure a senator’s family makes it to the airport on time. So, right now, we need to talk about Valerie so I can get on the road, do my job, then come back and talk to you.” She gave me a slow blink and then randomly asked, “Republican or Democrat?” I twisted my lips. “Does it matter?” “Not really. I’m just wondering what kind of politics you find mind-numbing.” I leaned in close and whispered, “All of ’em.” “Right.” She bit her lip. “So, back to Val… She doesn’t know the city, and I’d feel better if you both stayed here and watched a movie or whatever.” She nodded. “Yeah. Of course.” “Also, I hate to ask you to do this, but as soon as I leave, I’m gonna be on the phone with her mom. And it’s not going to be a good conversation. I’d appreciate it if you could maybe keep her distracted for a few hours. I’m not sure how this talk is gonna go down, but I don’t put it past April to call and unload her bullshit on Val.”

Her head snapped back. “Oh God. Seriously?” “Yeah. Their relationship is…” I glanced up at Val again. This time, she really wasn’t paying attention; rather, she was investigating the photos lining the walls of Rhion’s living room. “Strained,” I finished. “Well, that sucks. But yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll keep her busy.” My lips tipped up as I stared down at her. “Thanks.” “It’s no problem.” “Be good, Val,” I called out and shot Rhion a wink that made her cheeks pink. I needed to go. It was getting late, but I was in no rush to leave her. I was, however, in a rush to get gone…so I could get back.



Val and I were stretched out on either end of my couch. It was nearly seven. Jude would be back soon, but after the day we’d had, I was exhausted and didn’t have the energy to clean up. Plates and cups littered the coffee table while shopping bags covered the floor. Makeup of every shade and color lined the top of my counter, and the cords to professional-grade curling irons dangled over the side. “Is Jude a neat freak?” I asked Val. She laughed. “Neat? No. But he’s a weirdo about the refrigerator. It used to drive him crazy when Mom would leave leftovers in there for too long.” I must have asked Val a million questions about Jude throughout the day. So much so that, eventually, I didn’t even have to ask anymore. She was offering it up. It was obvious Val loved her stepfather; her face would light any time she talked about him. It only served as further truth that my Jude was real. An idea that warmed me immeasurably. “Can I ask you something?” Val said, swinging her legs around so she was sitting up. I lifted my head off the padded armrest. “Of course.” “How’d you really get the scars?” Uh oh. Jude had given me the macho headshake when she’d asked about them earlier. I had only a few minutes before he got back. No way was I pissing him off before our talk. I smiled warmly. “Maybe you should talk to Jude when he gets here.” “They’re burns, aren’t they?” My shoulders got tight. Damn it, she was smart. This was not going to work in my favor. Sitting up, I took her hand. “Seriously, he’ll be here any minute.” “You’re Butterfly,” she whispered. “Aren’t you?” I sucked in a sharp breath and my stomach knotted. “You are,” she breathed, scooting over. “Um…it depends. If I was, would that be a good thing or bad thing?” I asked nervously. She smiled. “I think, for Jude, it’s a really good thing. Maybe he’ll finally be able to sleep.” “What do you mean?” I asked, but a knock on the door pulled us both out of the conversation. Val laughed knowingly as I sprang to my feet and smoothed my little black dress down. Like the rest of my outfit, it was new. In my defense, I couldn’t just talk to Jude in jeans and a T-shirt. If I wanted more of him, it was time to up the ante. And let’s be honest—a backless little black dress with a high neckline, cap sleeves, and a pleated skirt definitely couldn’t hurt. “Don’t forget your shoes,” Val reminded me. “Right.” I nodded swiftly, sliding on the kickass red-and-black-swirled heels we’d bought earlier that afternoon. It should be noted that Val had amazing taste. She’d originally picked the shoes out for herself, but I didn’t figure it would win me any babysitting awards with Jude if he showed back up and his eleven-

year-old was wearing a pair of stilettos. Thankfully, it didn’t take much convincing to get Val to settle for a pair of red Chuck Taylors. Yeah, I wasn’t the only one who had gotten new threads. After I’d listened to Val tell me all about her mom, it was clear we could both stand a little retail therapy. Between the two of us, we’d picked the racks bare. Val’s outfit consisted of a pair of tattered, black skinny jeans that hugged her curves, a black long-sleeve, fitted top, and a red down vest. It was sporty and feminine, and she looked so freaking adorable that I wanted to shrink her down and put her in my pocket. Instead, we’d had our hair and makeup done and then taken a million selfies. I did a twirl. “Do I look okay?” She smiled, lifted her hand to the perfectly shaped curls brushing the top of her shoulder, and ordered, “Scrunch your hair. It will give you more volume.” I nodded and followed her example. It wasn’t often I wore my naturally straight hair in curls, but after seeing how amazing Val’s had looked when the stylist had finished, I’d decided to give it a try. It was no contest—hers were better. But I couldn’t complain about my end results. The red tips on my chunky ringlets made for the perfect accent against the black of my dress. She grinned. “You look great. Jude is going to die.” “I don’t want him to die. A little heart trouble, maybe. But I definitely need him alive.” She giggled as another knock at the door got my feet moving. With one last glance over my shoulder at her beaming smile, I sucked in a deep breath and yanked it open. But it wasn’t Jude. “Don’t just stand there, child. Invite me in. It’s freezing out here,” Margaret Spencer, my exstepmother, snapped haughtily. She was not standing on my doorstep. No fucking way. Only she was. In the taut, surgically enhanced flesh. On my doorstep. She knew I wouldn’t be inviting her in, which was why, as I attempted to slam the door in her face, she slid her elegant, slipper-clad foot over the threshold. “Damn it, Rhion. Stop being a brat,” she cursed, attempting to cram her upper body through the narrow opening. “Rhion?” Val called, concern thick in her voice. Struggling with the door, I did my best to keep my voice even as I said, “It’s okay, sweetie. Why don’t you go watch TV in the ocean room for a few minutes?” “W-what’s going on?” she stammered. I glanced over my shoulder and found her staring in shock at the right half of an old lady flailing as she tried to get into my apartment. It probably wasn’t the best way to teach a child to respect their elders, but I suspected that Margaret wasn’t there to show anyone respect, either. Especially since I’d managed to keep my whereabouts from the Wicked Witch private for over two years. And, while Katie knew where I lived, she’d never rat me out. With a hard shove that did not bode well for the staff at whichever nursing home I’d more than likely end up paying for, Margaret managed to knock me back. I stumbled and my heel slipped, which sent me down to my ass. “Rhion!” Val yelled, dashing toward me. “It’s okay. I’m okay,” I assured, taking her hand and allowing her to help me back to my feet. She looked panicked, so I threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against my front. Margaret swung the door open wide and walked in, answering the age-old debate about whether vampires needed to be invited inside a personal residence. “For the love of God, child, why must you always be so dramatic?” she scolded, shrugging off her

long herringbone coat, revealing a charcoal-gray sheath dress that I hated to admit looked nice on her. She was older and wafer-thin, but Margaret had always been beautiful. It was how she’d caught the eye of my father. Though how she’d convinced him to marry her would forever be a mystery. Even with her high cheekbones and her incredible hair, the woman was a hideous monster on the inside. Her gaze raked over me, and her lip curled in disgust. “Why must you ruin your body with those dreadful tattoos? A nice sweater would go a long way in covering those scars without making you look like a streetwalker.” Who actually said streetwalker? I made a note to anonymously mail her a thesaurus. I rolled my eyes. “Why are you here?” Her gaze slid to Val. “Care to introduce me to your friend?” Nope. No fucking way. I’d learned over the course of the day that Val’s relationship with her mother wasn’t just strained—it was one straw away from breaking. From what she’d said, it sounded like April was a bitch to the nth degree. However, I was certain she didn’t hold a candle to Margaret Spencer. And, if that woman said one nasty word to Val, I’d end up in jail. I guided Val behind me. “Answer me. Why are you here?” She shrugged and bent at the knees to pick up one of the shopping bags. As she thoroughly inspected the contents, she replied, “I was in the area.” I snatched the bag from her hand. “You live in New York.” She scoffed as she glided across the room to pick up another bag. “What? Am I not allowed to visit my stepdaughter?” “Former stepdaughter,” I corrected while ushering Val to the couch. Lowering my voice, I tried to ease Val with a joke. “Don’t look her directly in the eye or you might turn to stone.” A small smile pulled at her lips, and relief filtered through me. “Where’s Katie?” I asked Margaret while walking to the door to search the breezeway. “How am I supposed to know?” I turned to face her, the cold air nipping at my back, but I refused to close it for fear she’d take it as an invitation to stay. “Um…” I started sarcastically. “Because, while I do believe you hold mythical powers of evil, you need a keycard to even get up the elevator. One that I know Katie has. So I’ll ask again: Where is she?” She dropped the shopping bag to the ground before moving to the next one. “Oh, please, Rhion. Unlike some people I know, Katie has a social life. She’s out doing whatever a young lady of her social standing does on a Saturday night while visiting a new city.” Knowing Katie, she’d put a gorgeous gown on to make her mother happy and then changed into a skimpy skirt and top in the bathroom of whatever nightclub she’d be partying at that night. Some things never changed. “Right,” I laughed. “Well, thanks for stopping by, but I’m going to need my key back, and then I’m going to need you to get on your broom and fly away.” I sliced a hand through the air toward the door. A sinister smile grew on her lips as she crossed her wiry arms over her chest. Tipping her chin toward the shopping bags, she said, “I thought you didn’t have the money anymore.” “I don’t,” I replied unnecessarily. “I finished a new book,” I added even more unnecessarily. It was none of her business what my bank account read or how I got the money. The only thing she needed to know was that I no longer controlled my father’s fortune. A fact Pete and I had made abundantly clear over the last few years. “Rhion, honey,” she purred in a condescending tone. “You expect me to believe your silly little hobby paid for those Louis Vuittons?” She took a step toward me, her gaze pointedly flashing down to my heels. I squared my shoulders and retorted, “I don’t expect you to believe anything, but I do expect you to get

the hell out of my apartment.” Her grin grew pompous. “You still have the money.” It wasn’t a question. Or an accusation. It was breathed in utter elation. I swear I saw the green of dollar signs flash in her honey-brown eyes. “I don’t have the money,” I replied immediately, anxiety spiking within me. “Your father would be rolling in his grave if he knew you were holding out on me and Katie. You manipulative little shit.” “I’m manipulative?” I asked in disbelief. “You just showed up at my house, sniffing for dollar bills.” “I wouldn’t have to if you’d give me what’s rightfully mine.” “Rightfully yours? Are you insane? If Dad had wanted you and Katie to have that money, he would have put it in his will. Newsflash, Margaret. He didn’t. My name was the only one on that piece of paper, and I’m telling you I don’t have it anymore.” “And what about Apollo?” she asked in a menacing whisper. My mouth dried as panic flushed my body from head to toe. It only took the mention of his name to skyrocket my pulse. On shaky legs, I stumbled back a step. She advanced toward me, her shoulders rolled back in confidence. “Oh yes, dear. Apollo. You can’t possibly believe that you’re the only one who deserved anything.” I frantically shook my head from side to side. Words were impossible around the lump lodged in my throat. “I wonder what your brother will say when I tell him that you’ve recently come into some money again.” All at once, it felt like toxic chemicals had replaced the oxygen in the room. My skin crawled, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. She was going to tell Apollo that I had the money. “No,” I choked. “You didn’t think I’d come all the way to Chicago without seeing my stepson, did you? We’re meeting for dinner as soon as I leave here.” The blood drained from my face and my head began to spin. “No,” I repeated, throwing my arm out to the wall beside the door to balance myself—and trigger the alarm. She closed the distance between us. “Orrr,” she drawled, lifting a finger to toy with my mother’s diamond at the base of my neck. “For the right price, it could be our little secret.” I bit the inside of my cheek, the metallic taste of blood bursting on my tongue. He’ll be here in less than a minute. Johnson would fix this. He always had. Just. One. Minute. “Is this new?” she asked, giving my necklace a sharp tug, snapping it off my neck. The diamond from my mother’s engagement ring had been my prized possession since I was six years old and my father had set it into a necklace for me. I never took it off, not even to shower. Margaret knew that that necklace wasn’t new. She was only trying to hurt me. But all she’d had to do was mention his name to destroy me. She was going to tell him I had the money again. My nose stung as I fought the tears back. He’d come for it. Again. Break me. Again. Light me on fire. Again.

My legs had begun to shake when I heard Valerie exclaim, “Jude!” “Jude?” Margaret snapped. “Jude,” I breathed. He’d come to save me. Again.



As I made it off the elevator, I saw her silhouette in the doorway. I smiled to myself as I slid my gaze over her sexy heels and up her sensational legs. She had to be fucking freezing, but if she was willing to suffer the chill, I was more than happy to appreciate the view. A short, black dress covered her ass, but as I continued my path up, the fabric opened, revealing the smooth, ink-free skin on her back. My mouth watered as I followed the delicate line of her spine higher. Visions of my tongue trailing down her soft skin, from ass to shoulder blade, flashed in my mind. They weren’t memories, but if I had my way about it, they would be soon enough. “Jude!” Val yelled as I got closer. A smile split my mouth. “Hey—” I started only to stop when Rhion spun to face me, her face etched with fear as she dove into my arms. “What the fuck?” I grunted, wrapping her up. I instinctively swept the room. An older, well-dressed woman was standing in front of her, her mouth wide open, her gaze jumping between us. Val was standing next to the couch, visible relief painting her face. “What the hell is going on?” I barked as I became vaguely aware of footsteps pounding behind me. I turned in time to see Alex storming out of the emergency exit. My confusion grew, but I stepped to the side with Rhion in my arms to make way for him to get through the door. “You!” Alex growled, wrapping a rough hand around the older woman’s bicep. She let out an offended curse and stared at me. I narrowed my eyes and snarled, “I’ll repeat: What the hell is going on?” A shrieked, “Jude? Are you kidding me?” from the woman I did not know was all I got in response. Rhion jerked in my arms as a strangled “No!” hit my chest. “Shhh,” I soothed. “I’ve got this.” A sinister grin tipped the woman’s lips. “I bet you do, Jude.” I didn’t have a chance to react before Rhion erupted, spinning to face her. “Shut up! Don’t say another goddamn word. You do not get to do this. Showing up to my house. Acting like a bitch. Threatening me with Apollo?” Who the fuck is Apollo? Alarm flooded me as Alex went rock solid. “Rhion,” I said, attempting to calm her, but she fought against me. Securing her with an arm around the middle, I held her back to my chest. She leaned toward the woman as much as I would allow. “I don’t ever want to see your face again, Margaret,” she spat. “And, before you even think about it, you will never see another penny from me. I don’t care if Katie has to take up a job panhandling to pay for your funeral. We. Are. Done.” She sucked in a deep breath and looked to Alex. “Pat her down and get my

key back, and then get her the hell out of my apartment!” Folding a hand over Margaret’s mouth, he slipped behind her, stating, “Let’s go.” Muffled curses came from around his hand as he carted her out the door. He paused as he waited for the elevator. “I’ll take her upstairs and wait for the cops. The alarm probably pinged on Johnson’s end. I’ll call him and get an ETA. You good with Levitt?” he asked Rhion. “She’s fine,” I confirmed. “You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on here?” He shook his head. “Take care of her. Johnson’ll be down shortly.” Fuck that. I didn’t need Johnson to come down and take care of whatever the hell problem had Rhion shaking with anger in my arms. And I feared my head would explode if he tried. I needed someone to open their mouth and fill me the fuck in. Swear to God, when it came to Rhion Park, I was always in the dark. “Her necklace!” Val called out. “That lady still has it.” Alex heard her and pulled up short, releasing his hand over the woman’s mouth only long enough to snatch the necklace from her hand. “How dare you!” was all the old broad got out before he tossed the necklace my way and pushed her into the elevator. I caught it and shoved it into my pocket. My mind was reeling with a million questions, and as I was finally able to take in the rest of the apartment, they only multiplied. Shopping bags from numerous stores covered the floor while makeup and hair shit did the same on the counter. And then, on the small coffee table, I clocked four plates with what appeared to be the remnants of several different meals. Beside them were four champagne flutes each with a different kind of fruit floating in a clear liquid. I was under the assumption that it had only been the two of them at Rhion’s that day. Not to mention that I’d given Rhion specific instructions not to leave the apartment with Val. Yet…clearly, they had. I was sure there was an explanation. My only problem was that Rhion wasn’t exactly known for being forthcoming with me. That was about to change. After releasing her with one arm, I caught the door and swung it shut. “All right. Calm down,” I stated, dipping down and catching her at the back of her knees. She squeaked as I lifted her, but her arms folded around my neck. I made my way through the maze of bags and settled on the couch. Rhion attempted to move to the cushion beside me, but with a hand at her bare thigh, I kept her securely on my lap. “Let’s start with who the hell that woman was,” I said. When she didn’t answer, I swung my gaze to Val, and for the first time since I’d arrived, I actually saw her. Her hair was no longer pulled back in a ratty ponytail, and she sure as hell wasn’t wearing that baggy tracksuit. Instead, she had on a combination of reds and blacks that made her look like an older version of the little girl I’d always known. I wasn’t big on the idea of my eleven-year-old wearing makeup, but I wasn’t going to make a fuss over the gloss at her lips and the natural tint of color at her cheeks. Val must have followed my gaze, because she looked down at her clothes and asked, “What do you think?” “You look beautiful,” I replied. She shifted a hand into her hair and smiled at the ground. “Rhion picked them out.” “They’re nice,” I said. “But those clothes are only beautiful because you’re the one wearing them.” Val’s grin widened at the praise, and Rhion’s tight body finally relaxed in my arms. At that, my anger and frustration began to ebb away. “Hey, baby, can you give me a minute with Rhion? We’ve got a few things to discuss.” She nodded. “I’ll go watch TV in the ocean room.”

That. Fucking. Ocean room. I was hopeless to hide my smile. After Val had disappeared down the hall, I gave Rhion’s leg a squeeze and announced, “I need you to start talking. And I need paragraphs, sweetheart.” Her head slowly tipped back, but her mouth didn’t open. I brushed the hair off her neck and murmured, “Why is it, when I need you to talk, you have nothing to say, but when I need you to be quiet, you can’t shut up?” Her gaze cut away. I growled and shifted her in my lap so I could get a better read on her. “I’m really gonna need you to give talking your best shot right now. Because, currently, I can’t decide how to react.” “Jude,” she whispered. “My name is not an answer, Butterfly.” “I’m sorry I cussed in front of Val.” “Trust me. She’s heard far worse. And you know good and damn well that is not what I’m asking you to talk about.” “But—” “And, before you finish that thought, you should be fully informed about what I’m wavering between when it comes to the crazy woman Alex just hauled out of your apartment. Either I’m gonna march up to Guardian and raise immortal hell until someone gives me the answers or I’m gonna sit here on the couch and listen to you give me some answers. Either way is fine with me. But make no mistake. Answers will be had.” “Jude,” she whined. “Still not an answer, Rhion. But I’m not done yet. So you got a few more seconds to mentally prepare your words.” I glided my thumb across her lips, my chest swelling when she parted them for me. “When it comes to Val, I’m also on the fence.” I moved my hand to her thigh and teased my fingers up until I stopped under the hem of her dress. “See, part of me wants to slide my hand between your legs and show you exactly how much I appreciate you buyin’ her that outfit and putting that smile on her face.” Her breath caught and her eyes flashed wide as she squirmed in my lap. She wasn’t moving away— she was opening her legs. At that, more than just my chest swelled. “But see,” I said, “the other part of me wants to turn your ass red for taking her out shopping when I specifically told you I didn’t want you two leaving the apartment today.” “Jude!” she exclaimed, clearly affronted. But I’d like to note: Her legs. Did. Not. Close. “So, what’s it gonna be?” I asked, allowing my fingers to glide a few inches higher on her thigh. She sucked in a sharp breath and then finally opened her mouth. Only, in true Rhion Park fashion, it wasn’t to answer my question. “Could we clarify what turning my ass red would entail?” I shot her a pointed scowl. “I could show you.” She pushed out of my lap and started pacing. “Rhion,” I prompted. She groaned loudly and stared up at the ceiling before finally relenting. “Okay. Fine. She’s my exstepmother. Satan himself created her. Up until tonight, she didn’t know where I lived. As far as I can tell, she and my stepsister are in town and she must have stolen Katie’s key to come see if she could con me out of money.” She scrunched her nose. “Well…more money.” I reclined casually on the couch and crossed my legs knee to ankle. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it? How about you keep that streak alive and answer another one: Why did she keep repeating my name?” Her body locked up tight, and she changed the subject. “Val and I didn’t leave the apartment. I have a personal shopper. We picked out stuff online. She brought it over.”

“A personal shopper?” I asked, feeling mildly better even though she was avoiding my question. She nodded. “And my stylist came and did our hair, and she brought a girl to do our makeup.” Mildly better turned into a hell of a lot better. That is until I thought about it. “Shit,” I said. “That must have cost a fortune.” “Not really. I’m a good client. They come to my house once a month. I just asked if we could move up the date. Well, not the chef. He was new. But he taught us how to cook healthy recipes that Val actually liked.” My eyebrows nearly hit my hairline. “The chef?” “Yeah, and he was incredible,” she announced excitedly. Fucking cute. “We might have someone new for Thanksgiving.” Uncrossing my legs, I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. “I’m sorry. Just to get this straight: You hired a chef to come to your house and cook you and a kid dinner?” I shouldn’t have been surprised. Rhion was loaded. But a personal chef? For an eleven-year-old? I hadn’t been sure how much I was paying her for babysitting, and I was quickly starting to regret not having asked that upfront. No way I’d be able to cover a personal shopper, a stylist, a makeup artist, and a personal fucking chef. “Babe, what exactly is your hourly babysitting rate?” She blinked and then laughed. “You aren’t paying me, silly.” “The fuck I’m not. Though, judging by these shopping bags, I might have to be put on a payment plan.” “You aren’t paying me,” she stated adamantly. “Today was my treat. Yes, I might have gone a little overboard, but don’t take this the wrong way.” She peeked down the hall. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she said, “Your ex-wife is a bitch.” “This is not news to me.” “Okay, well… When Val told me that her mom makes her eat nothing but dry salad and plain chicken so she can lose weight, it made me…sad.” I clenched my teeth and reminded myself that I needed to try to call April again. She hadn’t answered earlier. “I love to cook,” Rhion said, “but I’m horrible at the healthy stuff. So I hired a chef to show us some quick and easy recipes she could make on her own.” She swung a hand out to the dishes on the table. “Some of it was a hit. Some of it was not. But I did learn that, if you put water in a champagne flute and drop some fruit in, it’s a totally different experience.” She smiled. I did not. Because, in that moment, another PSI of pressure escaped my chest. The relief was staggering. She’d hired a personal chef to help my girl eat healthier. She’d bought her clothes and had someone come do her hair and apply makeup to make her feel beautiful. And that act only proved that Rhion Park was more stunning on the inside than she was on the outside. April should have thought of that to help pull Val out of this funk she’d been in. Shit, I should have thought of it. Yet, in the five hours Rhion had spent with her, she’d realized that something was wrong and gone about doing something to fix it. God, that alone was sexier than any memory I had of her. “Come here,” I ordered roughly. “What? Why?” I didn’t wait for her to obey—mainly because I didn’t figure she would. Rhion had more than proven herself to be stubborn. After standing up off the couch, I prowled toward her, muttering, “You hired a chef to teach my girl

how to make healthy food.” I stopped in front of her, looming close. She leaned away, peering up at me through her lashes and stammering, “Are…are you mad?” Shaking my head, I slid a hand around her hips, resting it on the bare skin at the small of her back, and repeated, “You hired a chef to teach my girl how to make healthy food.” “Well, not completely for that,” she defended. “I was hungry and didn’t feel like cooking. Win-win.” I dipped so my lips were at her ear. “Tell me something, Butterfly. Last Friday.” A satisfied smirk hit my mouth when her body went tight in my arms. “Why’d you kiss me?” “Who says I kissed you?” she chirped, arching her back to create some space between us. But I had no intentions of allowing her to escape. “We both know you did. I’m just trying to figure out why,” I rasped. “For some reason, you pushed up onto your toes and brushed that sexy, rambling mouth of yours across mine.” Using my hand at her back, I guided her closer and then nipped at her earlobe. “Oh,” escaped her mouth on a moan, her hands sliding up my arms to my shoulders. Trailing my lips down to her neck, I asked, “Ring any bells?” She didn’t reply, so I pushed her further. “You barely knew me. But you still kissed me like a woman on the brink of starvation. I think I deserve to know exactly what I did to earn that.” After snaking a hand up into the back of her hair, I used it to tip her head to the side, exposing her neck to me. As I raked my teeth over the soft skin below her ear, her fingernails bit into my shoulders. My tongue darted out to lave up her neck, and the odd sense of familiarity at her taste created a wicked brew of confusion and erotic exhilaration. As much as I suspected I’d always want to know what happened that Friday night, I wanted one thing more. Straightening, I ghosted my lips across hers before gently twisting my hand in her hair, forcing her head back. “You hired a chef to teach my girl how to cook healthy food.” “I’m…I’m—” “That’s why I’m about to kiss you, Butterfly.” Her eyes flashed wide, and then, seconds later, as my lips descended upon hers, they fluttered closed. Her hungry moan vibrated against my lips as our mouths finally connected. The world stood still like it had the first time I saw her—and then again at the bar. In that moment, nothing else existed. Not failure. Not regret. Not guilt. Not fear. There was nothing but a beautiful woman with a breathtaking smile and an even bigger heart and me, the man who was suddenly desperate to keep her from flying away. Again. Her mouth opened and I slanted my head, greedily swirling my tongue with hers, claiming everything her mouth had to offer. She swayed into me, pressing deep into the curve of my body. Her full breasts became flush against me, which incited a flood of memories of how they felt in my hands—and against my mouth. She pushed up onto her toes, lifting her already tall heels off the ground as if she couldn’t get close enough. And, as I held her against my mouth, I knew I couldn’t. Our tongues eagerly slid together. They weren’t dueling for control, but it was as though we both feared it was the only taste we’d ever get. It was…confounding. It shouldn’t have felt that way. Not with her. She lived in my nightmares, yet somehow over the last week, she’d sparked something inside me that burned so fucking strong that the

flames followed me into my dreams. It was going to wreck me to break that kiss. My body ached to take more of her. To give her more of me. To make good on my offer and slide a hand under that little dress, not stopping until her tight heat pulsed around my fingers. But Val was in the bedroom, and if I started that with Rhion, I feared I wouldn’t quit until I was inside her. My cock stirred at the thought. Shifting a hand down to her ass, I groaned as she rolled her hips against mine. Unfortunately, at the same time, a man cleared his throat. Without tearing my mouth away from hers, I pried my eyes open and found Johnson standing in the doorway, his gaze aimed at the floor. Fan-fucking-tastic. “Jude,” Rhion protested on a whine as I stepped away. She was following me forward, her hands clinging to my shoulders, trying to regain my mouth, when I rasped, “We got company.” Her eyes popped open and her head swung to the side, her face morphing from sexual intoxication to flat-out anger in the span of a second. I couldn’t help but chuckle when she bit out, “You are not standing in my apartment right now.” Johnson didn’t look nearly as amused as I did as he arched an eyebrow and said, “I didn’t know I needed to knock.” I caught her around her shoulders and guided her to my side. “That might be a good idea from here on out.” Johnson glowered. But both of our attentions were drawn back to Rhion as she repeated on an eerie whisper, “You are not standing in my apartment right now.” “You hit the alarm—you better fucking believe I’m standing in your apartment right now,” he returned. “The alarm,” she said, her anger fading as she wilted against me. Looping an arm around my hips, she breathed, “Oh, right.” Johnson crossed his arms over his chest. “Though it seems like it might have been a wasted trip.” She rested a hand on my abs and shook her head. “No. I’m glad you came.” It was an act that Johnson didn’t miss. His jaw went hard, but his voice softened. “Now, tell me what’s going on in your head and I’ll get out of here.” “Who’s Apollo?” I asked. I ignored her hand spasming on my stomach and kept my sights trained on Johnson. His expression remained unreadable as he asked her, “You gonna handle this, or am I?” She groaned and reluctantly announced, “He’s my little brother. He’s crazy. My father didn’t leave him any money in his will.” Fucking finally, we were getting somewhere. “And this is why you use Guardian for protection?” I asked her but lifted my gaze to Johnson. “He a threat?” “He’s complicated,” he replied. “I’m gonna need more than that,” I told Johnson. “And you’ll get it. When she’s ready to give it,” he replied curtly. If that was not in the next five seconds, I was going to lose my mind. It was fair to assume that things were changing between Rhion and me. And, after that kiss and the promise it held for more, I refused to play the bullshit games anymore. “Someone needs to start talking,” I demanded, my patience snapping. “If there’s a potential threat out there, this is not the time to keep secrets. I had my girl and my woman under the same roof tonight. I can’t protect anyone if I can’t recognize the target standing directly in front of me.”

“She’s your woman now?” Johnson challenged. Shit. I felt Rhion’s head crane back as she peered up at me, awaiting my reply. She wasn’t my woman. But that didn’t mean the broken memories hadn’t convinced me she should be. And, with her body securely fitted against my side, her lips swollen from our kiss, and the sound of her moans still lingering in my ears, I had every intention of making her mine. “That is not the part you need to be concerned with,” I grumbled. “You were not here tonight.” I stabbed a thumb at my chest. “I was. It took minutes for Alex to haul his ass down here and take care of something I could have handled in a matter of seconds.” I paused and turned my angry scowl on Rhion. “You and me, Butterfly—we’re gonna be spending more time together. And, if that is going to happen, this is shit I need to know.” She screwed her eyes shut. “Stop hiding shit from me.” I gave her hip a firm squeeze. “You’re embarrassed about whatever the fuck happened on Friday night. Fine. I’ll drop it. But I will not stand by being a part of your life all while being the only one in the goddamn dark.” “You wanna be part of my life?” she whispered, shock almost painfully contorting her face. I arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, Rhion. And you would know this if we’d actually talked before your mouth ended up on mine.” She blinked, the pain fading from her face as full-on attitude replaced it. “I believe your mouth ended up on mine this time.” I shook my head as another PSI deflated my chest. “Right.” Rolling her eyes, she called out to Johnson, “Are they arresting Margaret?” “Being a bitch isn’t illegal,” he replied. “But I saw the tape of her weaseling her way in. You want to file a report on that?” “What tape?” I asked. Not surprisingly, they both ignored me. “Do you think she’s really going to see Apollo?” she asked. “After all the bullshit she’s pulled? No fucking way he’s going to have anything to do with her.” “That’s probably true,” she muttered. Sucking in a breath, she stepped out of my arms. “Okay. Then my head is good. You can go.” “Rhion,” he warned. Thankfully, her ignoring bit wasn’t limited to me. Breezing past him, she pulled the door open, saying, “I’m fine, Aidan.” Secretly, I fucking hated the way she’d called him by his first name. Not so secretly, I fucking loved that she was asking him to leave. Johnson whispered something in her ear, and then, with one last scowl in my direction, he left. I stared at her back as she closed the door behind him, wondering where the magical line that divided her creamy-white skin stopped and the burst of vibrant colors on her arms started. And then wondering how long I’d have to wait to find out. “Soo…” she drawled, turning toward me. “You…um…wanna sit down?” “I want answers,” I replied. She pried her heels off and dropped them to the floor. “And if I don’t want to give them?” “Then we’re right back where we started: you hanging out on a ledge and me staring up at you, unable to help.” That was probably more blunt than I’d needed to be. But I was done pretending to be okay with the unknown. If she was in any danger whatsoever, I needed to know. So maybe I could stop it this time before I had to watch her fall. Again.

“Oh God. I’m so—” “Don’t say sorry. For fuck’s sake, between the two of us, Rhion, don’t you think we’ve done enough apologizing? Can we, for once, just…talk?” Her tongue snaked out to dampen her lips, and then something miraculous happened. She began talking and her words actually contained information. “Apollo’s my little brother.” “We covered that.” I took a step toward her and implored, “Keep going.” “He scares the absolute shit out of me. When we were growing up, he was terrible to me. My father was hard on him, and Apollo took that out on me. He spent five years in jail for involuntary manslaughter. When he was seventeen, he got drunk one night, took my father’s car, and went on a joyride across town. He hit another car, and the elderly woman died a week later from complications. It was an accident, but he was rich and famous in some ways for being my dad’s son, so the judge decided to make an example out of him. He was in jail when Dad passed away and didn’t get to come to the funeral. I felt horrible for him. Until he lost his mind when the will was read. He told me that I deserved the burns and he’d wished I’d died in the fire.” “Jesus, Rhion.” I reached for her, but she waved me off. “So, yeah. It’s been two years. And just the thought of him is enough to send me off the deep end. Tonight, Cruella de Vil showed up and threatened to feed him information about me if I didn’t pay her off. And that’s when you arrived.” She shrugged and tossed me a weak smile. “You know the rest.” Something was off. The story fit. It made sense. But it felt like a lot of shit had been glossed over. I was missing something. Something she’d no doubt left out on purpose. But what? “And that’s all of it?” I asked. “That’s the high points.” “And if I want the low points?” She inhaled deeply. “Then you’ll have to wait. Because, today, I spent three incredible hours picking through clothes with an amazing little girl. I got my hair curled and my makeup done, went toe-to-toe with an evil villain, and poured my heart out—in paragraphs—to a man who issued the best kiss of my life.” She smiled tightly. “The low points can wait, Jude.” As I grinned back at her, I realized they could. “You can’t blame me for trying.” I sauntered in her direction, retrieving her necklace from my pocket and sliding the diamond off the chain. I placed it in the palm of her hand and tucked the broken links back into my pocket. “You want to hear about my day? I listened to over four hours of Republican speeches today.” “Is this a competition? Because, if I’m in the running, I’m not sure your story is sad enough to enter.” “Oh, it’s sad stories now?” She smiled and nodded. One of my hands went to the small of her back; the other sifted into the back of her hair. “Okay…I might have an entry. See, four years ago, I fucked up. And, every night, I was forced to watch her die in my nightmares.” Her face paled as her head snapped back. “Holy shit. You really did have nightmares about me?” I leaned forward to catch her mouth for an all-too-brief kiss and then continued, “Yes. But I never should have implied meeting you was the nightmare. The fire. Your burns. The nightmares. Those are all on me.” She shook her head repeatedly as she gasped, “No, they aren’t. They—” I talked over her. “Shhh… That’s not even the saddest part, Rhion. Last week, something happened. And, now, she smiles at me. And looks at me like I’m the only man she’s ever seen. I tasted her. Touched her. Made her moan my name in a way that carved itself into my subconscious.”

Her hand came up to my bicep. “And the real kicker is”—I laughed without humor—“I can’t fucking remember what I said to make her give that to me.” I hated myself when her pale-blue eyes filled with tears. But that was nothing new. Not when it came to Rhion. And it was that thought that made me drop my forehead to hers and declare, “I want new memories.” I tucked her hair behind her ear. “This is going to require I taste you again.” I kissed her chastely. “And touch you again.” I glided the tips of my fingers up her back, her skin pebbling in my wake. “And make you moan my name in ways I will never forget. You think we could do that?” She nodded eagerly. “I’d like that.” “Good answer,” I breathed. “You’re real,” she breathed before biting her lip, a single tear rolling from her eye. I smiled and then cleared the tear from her cheek with my thumb, whispering, “I’ve always been real, Butterfly. Even when I didn’t want to be.” Her breath caught in her throat as she wrenched her eyes shut, a pool of moisture spilling out. I kissed them away, wishing I could spend the night making sure none of her tears ever saw the light of day. But, as much as I wanted that taste, that touch, and that moan, I couldn’t have them right then. “I need to get Val home,” I whispered into the top of her coconut-scented hair. She faceplanted into my chest and hugged me tight. Another PSI of pressure disappeared, and I relished the sweet release. “Tomorrow.” I kissed the top of her hair. “When I text you.” Another kiss. “I want paragraphs.” She nuzzled my chest. “Okay.” “She goes home on Tuesday morning. Plan for dinner on Tuesday night.” “I’ll cook.” I smiled to myself. “I like compliant Rhion.” She giggled. “Don’t get used to it.” Resting my chin on the top of her head, I replied, “I won’t.” It was the absolute truth, because whether she was compliant Rhion, rambling Rhion, sweet Rhion, angry Rhion, or evasive Rhion, I’d never get used to any of it. Not when she was in my arms. But I was damn sure going to try.



I lived in his nightmares. He lived in my dreams. It was a jagged little pill to swallow. But it was hard to focus on the pain as he held me, vowing that he wanted new memories with me. Not those from the fire. Or the bits he’d retained from our forgotten night together. New ones. And there was nothing I wanted more than memories with Jude. After he’d left with Val, I spent the rest of the night in my ocean room, listening to the waves crash all around me with a huge smile on my face. I’d eventually have to tell him everything instead of the CliffsNotes I’d given him about Apollo. But I was in no hurry for that topic of conversation. Not because I didn’t want to tell Jude. Well, not completely. I didn’t actually want to tell anyone. It was the biggest reason I kept my private life private. Johnson was one on the very short list of people who knew the truth. And that was only because he’d had the unfortunate experience of witnessing it all up close and personal. But, on the other hand, I wanted Jude to know me. The real me. And not the frightened woman who’d spent millions buying an entire floor in a downtown Chicago skyrise in order to stay close to the only man she trusted. No. That definitely wasn’t who I wanted him to get to know. Though I feared that was who he’d get. And, worse, who I really was. On Sunday, Jude and I exchanged texts. He’d said that he wanted paragraphs, and boy, did he get it. After an hour of chatting, I was still going a mile a minute. If I added the word content of all of my messages, I’d probably typed out the equivalent of a dissertation. Jude’s responses weren’t nearly as in depth, but I figured he was busy with Val. When my phone rang at nine p.m., he was chuckling on the other line. “Jesus, Rhion. How do you still have feeling in your fingers? Can we switch this to the phone?” I was happy to oblige. Hearing his deep, sexy voice was better than typing any day of the week. During our conversation, Jude told me all about his life and I listened so intently the world around me disappeared. I learned that Jude had graduated from Ohio State and gone directly into the police academy. He strategically skipped over the part where he’d gotten fired—because of me—and went right to his position in LA, where he’d worked for a security firm. The way Jude talked in paragraphs about his job made it clear he loved it. A lot. And I loved that something positive had come for him after the fire. It gave me hope that maybe I hadn’t ruined his life after all. I laughed harder than I had in years at his ridiculous stories about his various celebrity clients over the years and then even harder as he recounted the day he’d met Johnson.

But the most important thing I learned during our three-hour-long conversation was that Jude was an amazing man. He told me all about meeting April but falling in love with Val. I thought it was sweet that he paid for her private school tuition every month. Until I found out he had to do it or April wouldn’t let him spend time with Val. Then it was just sad. Without any legal rights, he worried she’d eventually try to take the little girl away from him. I didn’t tell him that Val had expressed those same fears to me. She hated it when Jude and her mom fought for that reason. I felt so bad for them both. Jude loved that little girl, and by all accounts, she loved him too. After that, Jude and I swapped stories about our families. He told me about his overdramatic but incredibly loving mother and his stoic but also incredibly loving father. It made my chest warm in the strangest way possible. I was happy he’d had that and truthfully, jealous that I never would. But, when Jude whispered a consoling, “Butterfly,” across the line as I told him about the day my father died, the jealousy evaporated. Right then, I was thankful that his parents had raised such an incredible man. When he yawned for the tenth time, I let him go. Or, more accurately, I said goodbye, ended the call, and burst into tears. It had been a long time since I’d felt that kind of connection with anyone. The kind that, even over the phone, made me feel like I wasn’t alone. He was off on Monday so he could spend more time with Val, but our texts and phone calls continued. By the time my eyes closed that night, I feared my smile would never fade. And the idea of that filled me in unimaginable ways. I had written that man at least twelve different ways over the years, but never once had it come close to the real thing. He was by no means perfect. He was a Raiders fan, preferred domestic beer, and had quite the penchant for telling me how things were going to be. But maybe that was exactly what made him better than my words ever could. Jude Levitt. Was. Real. I woke up on Tuesday morning to a knock at my door. Nerves rolled in my stomach as I cautiously flipped the security cameras on my TV on and saw Jude standing at my door. I did the best I could to comb my hair down as I struggled to shrug my robe on before rushing to answer it, cursing myself the whole way for not swinging by the bathroom for a once-over with a toothbrush first. However, by the time I got there, he was nowhere to be found. There was only a tiny, black box sitting on my welcome mat. No note. No card. The gift equally as illusive as the man who had delivered it. But, when I opened it, my heart nearly burst. Tears welled in my eyes as I lifted the repaired platinum chain I wore my mother’s diamond on out of the box. Up until that moment, there’d been nothing special about that chain. I’d bought it only six months earlier, after I’d broken the last one. That tended to happen a lot when you wore the same necklace twenty-four-seven, three-sixty-five. Truthfully, I’d already restrung the diamond on a spare I’d had waiting in my jewelry box for such an occasion. But Jude had taken precious minutes out of his limited time with Val in order to get my necklace fixed. So, with shaking hands and an unrivaled smile, I threaded my mother’s stone onto my now secondmost prized possession and proudly hooked it back around my neck. Needless to say, by the time that night rolled around, my excitement at finally having Jude alone was off the charts. He was out on an assignment that he said could last anywhere between two and twelve hours. And, as the clock hit seven, it appeared it was going to be closer to twelve. The aroma of my homemade chicken pot pie was barely lingering in the air as I sat on my couch in a pair of skinny jeans and a clingy, cream V-neck T-shirt. I’d tried approximately seventy-five outfits on

before deciding to go casual. Though I wasn’t sure it could be considered casual because I was rocking a pair of bordeaux feathered Jimmy Choos. I wedged beer number two between my thighs and switched the phone to my other ear. “I’m not changing it, Brianna.” “But what does Maleficent see in him? I don’t even know who the hero is in this book. He’s supposed to be Prince Philip, but you’ve given him this dark need to own her,” she argued. “Heroes aren’t infallible. It’s the flaws that hold all the beauty. Besides, if Johnson showed up at your door right now, saying he wanted to own you, you’d turn him away?” “That is not fair. You know Johnson is my weakness.” “Yeah, well, Maleficent’s weakness is Prince.” I took a sip of my beer. “And that’s another thing. Every time she calls him Prince, I break out into the chorus of ‘When Doves Cry.’” I nearly spit lager across the room as I burst into laugher. She giggled right along with me. “Can we please change his nickname, Rhion?” I was trying to collect myself when a knock sounded at my door. I snapped my head up and stared at the door as though I had x-ray vision. “Shit. Shit. Shit. I have to go. I think Jude’s here,” I whispered. “Okay. Call me as soon as you can and let me know how he is in the sack.” I scowled and whisper-yelled, “I’m not sleeping with him tonight!” She barked a laugh. “So Jude Levitt shows up at your door right now, saying he wants to sleep with you, and you’d turn him away?” She had a point, and as I opened the door and his dark-green gaze landed on me, I had a feeling that was exactly what he wanted to do. And there was no question I was going to say yes. He’d changed out the suit he usually wore when he was working and into the most amazing pair of faded jeans and a plain, black T-shirt. It was what I’d learned from the guys to be the tough-guy, off-duty uniform. But on Jude? Sweet baby Jesus in a manger. My mouth dried as I raked my eyes over the hard planes of his chest displayed through the tight cotton. My nipples peaked, and it had not one thing to do with the rush of cold air that wafted in around him. “Brianna, I have to go,” I said before hanging up without tearing my gaze off Jude—or his incredible chest. “You got the necklace,” he said, stepping inside. My hand immediately went to the chain as I stared up at him. “Thank you so much. It was really sweet of you to get it fixed for me,” I all but panted. “You are very welcome. Now, stop looking at me like that.” “Like what?” He chuckled and slipped a hand around my back at the same time he touched his lips to my forehead. “Like I’m gonna need a hell of a lot more time to kiss you than I’ve got.” My stomach dipped. Twice. First in anticipation of that kiss. Second in disappointment that it didn’t sound like he had much time. The latter must have shown on my face, because he laughed and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Wow. Don’t look at me like I just told you there was no Santa Claus, either.” “I thought we were hanging out tonight?” He grinned and traced the tips of his fingers down one of my arms. “We are. But you need to grab a coat. Change of plans. Due to the snow being predicted for tomorrow, the furniture store is working overtime to get all the scheduled deliveries out tonight or they can’t get me rescheduled until Monday. Trust me when I tell you I need a bed. My back is not going to make it another night on an air mattress.

Panic blasted through my system. “But we agreed to stay in tonight.” He cocked his head to the side and drawled, “Yeah. But things changed. And I gotta be home in thirty minutes and it’s a twenty-minute drive. So we gotta get a move on. Grab whatever the hell smells so good and let’s take it to my place.” The tingles started in my hands, and from experience, I knew, if they made it to my legs, I’d crumble. Breathe, Rhion. Jude’s beautiful face contorted with concern. “Jesus Christ, Rhion,” he said, folding his arms around me. “What the hell?” Sawing my teeth over my bottom lip, I allowed his warmth to beat back the ice coursing through my veins. “I…I thought you were going to hang out here.” “I was. But then the furniture store called. Now, tell me what this is really about.” I couldn’t though. Not without explaining it all. Thankfully, he offered me my out. “Is this about your stepmom?” “Yes,” I lied into his chest. “You scared she’s still in town?” “Yes.” Another lie. He sighed and kissed the top of my head. “I talked to Johnson yesterday, babe. She’s gone. Leo tracked her until her plane landed at JFK.” Shit. “I…would feel more comfortable…if…” “Look at me,” he ordered. But the last thing I wanted to do was to give him my eyes. He’d see the truth. And, worse, if I had to lie to his face, I feared the truth would come tumbling out…in chapters. When I didn’t look up, he gave me no choice. He caught my chin with two fingers and tilted my head back. “I know you’ve had a rough few weeks,” he said gently. “First with me coming here and stirring up shit from the past. And then with Margaret showing her ass by bringing up your brother. But you’re safe with me, Rhion. That is one thing I can swear to you.” And, deep down, I knew that too. After all, he’d saved my life once. I had no doubt he’d do it again. But, sometimes, my mind was my worst enemy. Jude continued. “My job is to protect people. Those people expect me to put my own life in the line of danger in order to keep them safe. And I absolutely would. Those are people who pay me. People I don’t give a damn about.” His fingers swept down my neck and traced over my collarbone before traveling to the subtle line of exposed cleavage, sending a shiver down my spine and a spark to my core. “And, Butterfly, I don’t think I have to point out that those people are not you. There are no limitations to the lengths I will go to make sure you are safe. I lost you to the flames once. It won’t happen again. Not a man, a woman, or a natural disaster could get past me when it comes to you.” My breath hitched, but it was no longer because of the panic. It was because, as I held his gaze, I knew he meant those words with every fiber of his being, right down to the marrow in his bones. I also knew something else. “You didn’t lose me to the flames.” “I did.” His fingers stopped tracing my cleavage and moved to one of the larger scars that ran over my left breast. “And I’ll never be able to make that right. All I can do is make you understand that it won’t happen again. You’re safe with me, Rhion. It’s a truth. A fact. And a promise.” A flutter hit my stomach. His hand shifted up to cup my jaw, his thumb stroking the curve. “If you don’t feel comfortable with leaving, I’ll understand. You can stay here. I’ll go wait for my furniture and come back later, or maybe we can reschedule for tomorrow night.”

The disappointment settled heavily on my shoulders. I didn’t want to reschedule. I’d been waiting a lot of years for a night with Jude. And over a week for another night with this different, real version of him. Technically, he was a trained bodyguard. Leo never would have hired him if he wasn’t one of the best in the business. But… No. I refused to allow the “buts” to rule my life when it came to him. And not because he was Jude. Rather because he was a man I liked, he made me laugh, and I felt comfortable with him. We shared the same scars. I wanted to get to know him and see if our connection could evolve into something bigger. And, in order to find that out, I needed to pull a coat on, go to his house, and eat a freaking delicious homemade chicken pot pie. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’ll come back—” “No,” I blurted. “I’ll just…grab my coat.” His smile grew wide. “I like that decision, babe.” I did too. Even if it terrified me. As we moved around my apartment, preparing to go, my mind checked out. Panic scrambled my thoughts, leaving me unable to focus on more than one moment at a time. Bile burned my throat as I armed my security system with shaky hands. Jude’s strong hand reassuringly rested on my back while he pretended not to notice. My eyes watered as I stepped onto the elevator, clutching my purse to my chest like a shield. With one hand balancing a pan of pot pies, Jude used his other to hook me into his side—where his lips found the top of my head and he mumbled, “I’ve got you.” It was only the sound of his voice that kept me from losing it as the elevator door slid open to the parking garage. Blood thundered in my ears and my chest felt like it was going to explode as he escorted me to his Jeep. When the jarring sound of someone shutting a car door attacked me, a cry tore from my throat. His only reaction was to step around me, his tall body folding down over me, cocooning me from any potential danger—even the imaginary kind. The embarrassment of it all soured in my stomach as he guided me into the passenger seat and shut the door behind me. He didn’t ask questions as we drove the twenty minutes to his house. He did, however, keep one hand planted on my thigh and watch me out of the corner of his eye as I fought to breathe. When he turned into a small apartment complex and then parked in front of a two-story, brick quadunit building, the process started all over again, only in reverse. I held my breath to keep the panic from showing. Though, judging by how tightly Jude kept me pressed into his side, I had a sneaking suspicion I was failing. The moment I stepped over the threshold and into his apartment, a blast of fresh air filled my burning lungs and my whole body sagged. Jude stepped in behind me, his hand moving around my middle as he placed a kiss to my temple. “See? Safe and sound,” he murmured. I closed my eyes and smiled, swaying back against him, mentally celebrating the enormous victory. “Thanks, Jude,” I whispered. “No need to thank me. It wasn’t hard to dodge the Chinese throwing stars from the little old lady closing her car door in the parking garage,” he replied, flipping the lights on to reveal a virtually empty apartment.

There was a large dining room table, which was entirely too big for the modest space, and a chocolate leather sofa that had seen its fair share of wear and tear. But they were his, so they felt comfortable. I tilted my head back against his chest and shot him a smile. He was oblivious to how big of a deal this was for me. And I decided right then and there I liked it that way. He wasn’t coddling me. Or staring at me like I was a mental case. Or pressuring me to spill my soul. He simply returned my smile. It was the most liberating smile of my life. Something inside me snapped—in the best possible way. Jude freed me. “Are we alone?” I asked, taking the pot pie dish from his hand and walking to the laminate countertop of his bar. “Until the furniture guys get here,” he chuckled. He stopped chuckling when I set the dish down and tore my shirt over my head. “Jesus, fuck, Rhion,” he cursed, his gaze jumping to my breasts and staying there as I sauntered toward him. “Let’s hope they’re late,” I purred. I caught him by the back of the neck and then dragged him down to my mouth. His hands landed on my hips at the same time his lips met mine. Our tongues tangled as our moans and growls collided. I folded my arms around his neck and took him deeper. I wanted more. More of the freedom I felt in his embrace. More of his mouth. More of his hands at my breasts. More of the way his talented fingers could draw me to the edge. And that had been when he was drunk. From the way he kissed me, I knew that sober Jude would be better. He continued to work my mouth as I reached back to undo my bra. “Wait,” he ordered against my lips, catching my hands to still them. “I’m done waiting,” I replied, giving up on the bra and going for his shirt. He palmed either side of my head and held my gaze. “Rhion. Wait.” After tugging up on the hem of his shirt, I slid my hands underneath and raked my nails up his stomach. His abs flexed, rippling under my touch. Dropping his forehead to mine, he groaned, “Woman, what are you doing?” I pushed up onto my toes and brushed my lips against his. “I’m simply finishing what we started that first night at my place.” His hand moved down to my ass. “Maybe that’s our problem. I don’t remember what exactly we started.” “Then I’ll show you.” I rolled my hips against his, finding him long and hard behind the denim. Electricity shot between my legs and up to my nipples, igniting every nerve ending in its path. “Fuck,” he mumbled before taking my mouth in a punishing kiss. It was the most beautiful pain I had ever experienced. Then it was my turn to curse as he used my ass to grind me against him again. With our lips—and our tongues—still connected, he backed me into the room. I shuffled my heels across the carpeted floor in step with him as he continued to kiss me, deep and demanding. Jude’s arms wrapped around my waist, and then the ground disappeared beneath my feet. Seconds later, I found myself horizontal, teetering on the edge of his dining room table. “Scoot back and get comfortable, baby,” he said with a dangerous grin. I obeyed—eagerly. “Mmm. Good girl,” he purred, grazing the tip of his finger down the swell of my breasts. I groaned, fisting my hands at my sides as he placed a kiss at the top of my breast. “Lower,” I begged. He spoke between kisses against my chest. “I’ve got two men on their way to deliver my bed.” Kiss.

“They are going to be here any minute.” Kiss. “But.” He lifted his head and his blazing, green gaze locked with mine. “If you want to show me what happened on Friday night, I’ll have them leave the damn thing on the front porch.” A chill shook my shoulders as he teased a finger over my bra. And then my head fell back and a moan flew from my mouth as he dipped inside, brushing my sensitive nipple. “Is that a yes, Rhion? You finally gonna let me in on your little secret?” he asked as he gave the fabric a tug, popping my entire breast free. My body made the decision for me when he rolled my nipple between two fingers and overloaded my system as a million sparks traveled straight to my clit. “Yes!” I cried, arching off the table.



I silently cursed all forms of alcohol and their mind-erasing effects. I’d gone an entire week without the memory of Rhion Park in the throes of ecstasy, her mouth open as she gasped for air, a round breast pushed up by her black lace bra, and my fingers plucking and rolling her perfect, pink nipple. My cock swelled impossibly hard at the sight. I’d been a rock since she’d brazenly stripped her shirt off, that fiery butterfly tattoo taunting me as half of it hid beneath her bra. Fuck the deliverymen. I would have slept on a damn air mattress for the rest of my life in exchange for my current view. “Yes!” she cried again. “Start talking, Butterfly.” Her blue eyes fluttered open, and she swept her tongue over her bottom lip before taunting, “I said I’d show you. No telling.” She teased a finger back and forth under the hem of my shirt. “Take this off.” I tore the shirt over my head, and no sooner than it was on the floor had she sat up and begun working my neck with her skilled mouth. I bent and balanced myself on a hand as she ravenously bit and sucked. “Fuck, baby,” I groaned, shoving a hand into the back of her hair. “Did you do this on Friday night?” “Yes. You lifted me up to sit on the washing machine because you were too tall,” she replied against my neck. Answers. “What were we talking about?” I asked, using her hair to tilt her head back. She shook her head and reclined, propping herself up onto her elbows. “This is the part where you became acquainted with my tattoo. You remember that part, right? Maybe, if you repeated the process, it would jog your memories.” I smiled wolfishly. I could so fucking do that. As I followed her down, her back formed an elegant curve, thrusting her breasts toward my mouth. I slid a hand beneath her and popped the clasp on her bra open. “Did I do this?” I asked. “No.” With one hand, I pulled the lace down her arms and then sucked her nipple into my mouth, twirling my tongue around the peaked nub, relishing in her breathy mews. “This?” I asked, gently pinching it between my teeth. “Oh God.” She bowed up, her hands flying into the top of my hair. “Is that a yes?” “No,” she breathed, her fingers inching down toward the scars at the back of my neck. I caught her at the wrist and pinned her hand beside her head.

“Jude,” she complained when I released her breast to find her other hand. I guided it up above her head and clamped both of her wrists together. “Now, I’m sure I didn’t let you do that.” I nipped at her bottom lip and then ordered, “Don’t move your arms.” She swallowed hard but nodded. Straightening myself, I allowed my hungry stare to rake over her small body. She was mostly on the table, only her legs dangling off the end. Fuck, she was beautiful—sprawled out, watching me with pink cheeks, her bright tattoos contrasting with the pale-white skin on her stomach. But it was the waistband of her jeans that I honed in on. I had memories of my hand traveling through her wetness. I wasn’t sure what else I had done. But I knew, by the time she got off that table, I’d have claimed her completely. With my Hands. Mouth. Cock. With a growl, I shoved the surrounding chairs away. When one of them fell, her eyes flashed wide and her breathing sped, her round breasts rising and falling, taunting me, but she didn’t move her hands. I stopped at the corner of the table nearest her hip and palmed her breast, my cock twitching as she pressed up into my hand. “I touched you like this, didn’t I, Rhion?” “God, yes.” I trailed a single finger down to her stomach and tapped below her navel. “Did I kiss you here?” She swiveled her hips. “No.” I smiled darkly. “We should probably remedy that, then.” Her mouth fell open as I bent, allowing my breath to whisper across her skin. I kissed her all too briefly. A soft moan breezed from between her lips as I popped the button on her denim open. “I remember touching you here. You were so fucking tight and wet.” “Jude, please,” she pleaded when I didn’t press into her pants. Instead, I strolled around to the other side of the table, allowing my finger to trace a path over her body. “Damn it, Jude,” she groaned. A bolt of lightning shot through me, straight to my balls, as she cupped my hard cock through my jeans. “Touch me,” she demanded in frustration. I pretended that my cock wasn’t about to fight its way out of my zipper to get to her and arched a chastising eyebrow. “I thought I said not to move your hands?” Stroking my shaft, she said, “I won’t as long as you’re moving yours. Inside me.” My lips twitched. This. Woman. All shy, frightened, and innocent half the time. Then sexy, brazen, and greedy the other. I ached to draw my cock from my pants and see which side of her I’d get when I was driving into her. But there was so much of her I wanted first. “You want me to touch you, Rhion? Maybe my tongue teasing your clit?” I plucked her nipple and then stepped out of her reach. “Yes,” she breathed. I moved to her feet, her wanton gaze tracking my every step. “I want that too. But, first, I’m going to need you to tell me something.” “Jude,” she warned, her languid body suddenly stiffening. I pried the top of her jeans open and began tugging them down her legs. When I got to her feet, I used the heels on her silly feathered shoes to remove them—one by one. They hit the floor with a clatter as she hurried to help me get her pants off. Seconds later, she was in nothing but a pair of thin, black lace panties that spectacularly showcased the small cleft at the top of her sex. My whole body responded. And not just in the way a male naturally responds to seeing a gorgeous,

nearly naked woman laid out before him. This was Rhion. I stood there staring down at her for entirely too long. Or maybe it was only a second. But even that was a sin to waste when it came to touching her. “You said that I was the only one who could heal you,” she announced in a soft, seductive whisper. My lungs seized. What was the old adage about a drunk man’s words being a sober man’s thoughts? But she wasn’t done yet. “You said you wanted to touch every part of my body, inside and out, so you could heal me too.” She shoved her fingers into the sides of her panties and shimmied them down. My mouth watered as she bent her legs and opened them wide, revealing herself to me. “Heal me, Jude.” I couldn’t heal her. She wasn’t damaged. Perfect, head to toe. I caught her legs behind her knees and dragged her to the edge of the table. Using my foot, I pulled a chair over, and the second my ass hit the wood, my mouth sealed over her clit. “Oh God!” she cried as I began to feast. My memories were correct: She was drenched, and I easily slipped a finger, then two, deep inside her. She draped her legs over my shoulders, and I ate at her like she was my favorite meal. And, with a single taste, that was exactly what she became. I licked and sucked as I pumped my fingers. Her body writhed beneath me, and my name whispered from her lips, drifting straight to my cock as though it were her hand. As her muscles tightened around my fingers, the orgasm building within her, she suddenly sat up. Her hands snaked into the back of my hair as she held me to her. I ached to remove her hand, but maybe I had been right. Maybe she was the only one who could heal me. Her fingers burned at the back of my scalp as her climax against my mouth seared me in a different way. Rising to my feet, I couldn’t get my pants off fast enough. She was still coming down as I retrieved a condom from my wallet and rolled it down my shaft. There were no words spoken as I prowled up the table and caught her mouth in a kiss. Her lips were lazy; mine were frenzied. “Look at me,” I demanded as I positioned myself at her opening. Her dark, painted lashes fluttered open at the same time her limp arms folded around my shoulders. With her burning gaze giving me all the permission I needed, I drove in hard, eliciting a blessed curse from both of us. Our bodies rolled together, a fluid rhythm the likes of waves joining in the sea. My every push, she met with a pull. And, each time I’d slide out, she’d welcome me back in. Her breasts pillowed between us as she held me tight, her hands mercifully staying out of my hair as though she knew I couldn’t take it. Not while I was inside her. Not while a wildfire blazed in my chest. When my knees began to ache, I climbed off her, standing at the edge of the table, and continued to fuck her. Hard but gentle. Slow but desperate. Punishing but apologetic. A sheen of sweat covered us both by the time she came on a reverent, “Jude.” As she milked me, my release slammed into me. I wasn’t done with her—not even close. But there was no way to prevent it any more than I could have stopped the massive amount of pressure draining

from my chest for the first time in four years. “Butterfly,” I rasped as my release leveled me. I fell forward and rested my forehead on her shoulder as shockwaves coursed through me. I was vaguely aware of her toying with the ends of my hair as I jerked and twitched inside her. When I got my breathing under control, I hazarded a glance up. I was nowhere near ready for the emotion shining in her eyes, but I’ll be damned if it didn’t do some warm things to my soul. And when she smiled? Forget about it. That was a blast of heat to my entire fucking system. “Hey,” she whispered like she was seeing me for the first time all day. I touched my lips to hers. “Hey.” She began tracing the ridges of muscle at my sides. “So. Bad news. Your bed isn’t here yet.” “That certainly is bad news. You got any good news to follow that with?” She patted her hand on the wood. “You have a very sturdy dining room table.” I chuckled and kissed her again. “I gotta clean up. Any chance you can put that food in the oven?” “After that workout, I’m sure you’re ravenous.” I pushed up onto my hands and walked them down the table until I was hovering above her breasts. She gasped when I darted my tongue out to circle her nipple. “It’s you who’s gonna need the sustenance, Rhion. We didn’t get to the part on Friday night when you were straddling me.” A loud, life-changing giggle escaped her mouth, which was followed by a groan as I pulled out of her and an, “Oh. My. God,” as I felt her ogle my ass while I sauntered to the bathroom.



“Find it, Rhion,” I ordered, giving her nipples a tug. We were in my bed, which had thankfully been delivered while we’d been eating her grade-A chicken pot pie. After that, I’d shown her all twelve hundred square feet of my sprawling apartment. She oohed and aahed appropriately. She’d even managed to fake interest as I’d explained the finer points of IKEA furniture. The woman had probably never owned anything that wasn’t custom built specifically to meet her decorating needs. Though, as she listened to me intently, she wasn’t judging. Rhion wasn’t like that. Yes, her shoes clearly cost a fortune, probably her jeans too, but she didn’t wear them in a way that screamed for people to take notice. I’d lived with April long enough to know exactly what that looked like. But that was not Rhion Park. She was simple. Understated. Stunning. For the rest of the evening, we lay on the couch, alternating between making out and laughing. On that worn-out sectional, there was nothing but two people getting to know each other. We didn’t talk about the fire. Or her family. I didn’t bring up Friday night again. In those moments, with her staring up at me like I was the most amazing man she’d ever seen and me staring down at her knowing she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, everything else became inconsequential. When the clock hit midnight, I offered to take her home. I’d never forget as long as I lived the way her lips twisted adorably as she said, “And miss breaking in the new mattress? No way.” I laughed. And then I’d carted her off to bed, where we had officially broken the new mattress in. And, now, at five a.m. the next morning, Rhion was riding my cock like she’d been born to do it. I was perilously close to coming, and she still hadn’t gotten off yet. But, if she didn’t speed it up, I was going to be late for work. Gripping her hips, I thrust up hard. “Jude!” she cried, but it wasn’t in ecstasy. It was in admonishment. I’d been inside her exactly three times, and I already knew that my Butterfly liked her control. She liked riding me. Working me over until I was gasping for air. And, truth be told, I liked all of that too. I also like keeping my job, and that entailed my being on time. After licking my thumb, I dropped it to her clit and rubbed a tight circle. “Jude!” she cried. This time, it was in ecstasy. I bucked beneath her again. Her hands flew to my shoulders, where she balanced herself. “Wait!” “Babe, trust me when I say I am in no rush to have you climb off my cock. But we have to leave in

fifteen minutes. And I still have to shower and get dressed.” I couldn’t stifle the chuckle when disappointment hit her eyes. Using her hips, I ground into her and finished with, “That does not include the extra few minutes it’s gonna take for me to pack a bag to stay at your place tonight.” Her eyes lit, and my lips curled up in a smile. However, just as quickly, my lips fell because Rhion got busy.

Half an hour later, she was exiting my Jeep in the Guardian parking garage. I could tell she was nervous, but it was nothing like it had been the night before. She was smiling, and she didn’t even wait for me to come around to open her door before she climbed out. “What time do you think you’ll be off tonight?” she asked, looping her arm around my hips as we fell into stride toward the elevator. I was tossing my arm over her shoulders when I tagged a man lingering in the shadows of the stairwell. I quickly stepped in front of her, and she bumped into my back. “What the…” she cursed. The man slowly emerged, but recognizing him didn’t quell the unease ricocheting in my veins. His gaze was dark, and he looked downright malevolent. “Levitt,” Johnson greeted as he strode toward us. “Oh, hey, Aidan,” Rhion chirped behind me. I allowed her to step out around me, but I kept her close. Something felt off. And, if I’d learned anything in my years working security, it was to trust my gut. He scanned her from head to toe and then back again before asking, “Did your phone break?” She shook her head. “No. Why?” He took an angry step toward her and seethed, “Because I’m positive there has to be a reason you didn’t call me and let me know you were shacking up with Jude last night.” I didn’t have time to process it before I slammed my hand against his chest. “Back the fuck up!” His gaze didn’t flip to mine; it stayed leveled on Rhion. “Oh shit,” she breathed. I gave him a hard shove that shifted him back a step, but he still didn’t acknowledge me. “Yeah, Rhion. ‘Oh shit,’ is right,” he replied. I threw my arm out to stop her as she moved toward him, but she ducked under it and got right between us. “I’m so sorry. I…I didn’t—” He gritted his teeth and shook his head. And then, all at once, his shoulders rolled forward as relief rained down over him. It was quite possibly the most peculiar transformation I’d ever witnessed. One minute, there was no mistaking him as anything but a threat. The next, he was a man on the brink of a nervous breakdown. “For fuck’s sake, sweetheart. Use your goddamn phone,” he said, hooking her at the back of the neck and dragging her into his chest. “Are you okay?” “I’m good. I was with Jude,” she said, her words muffled by his shirt. His gaze finally lifted to mine, and his lips split in a cocky grin. “I’m not gonna hurt her. You can quit glaring at me, asshole.” “I’ll quit glaring when you let her the fuck go,” I shot back.

He harrumphed but released her. Rhion didn’t delay in moving back to my side, and Johnson watched her closely as I slid an arm around her shoulders. “Jesus Christ,” he cursed to himself. “Get her upstairs. Then meet me in Leo’s office. We have a client briefing starting in five minutes.” And then he was gone, jogging up the stairs rather than taking the elevator. I looked down at Rhion and asked the rhetorical question, “What the fuck was that about?” It was only rhetorical because I knew I wouldn’t get an answer. So I nearly stroked out when I got one. “He sometimes pops in and hangs out with me in the mornings. He probably freaked when I wasn’t there.” Dipping down, I kissed the top of her head. “I do not understand your relationship with that man.” She laughed and—not surprisingly—didn’t bother to reply. When we got to her door, I kissed her indecently and for too long, so when I finally broke it, I was forced to take the stairs two by two to get up to Guardian without being late—or later, as it turned out. “How’s it going, Levitt?” Leo asked as I entered his office. He was leaning back, his booted feet propped up on the desk. Johnson sat across from him, his arms crossed over his chest, but a genuine smile curved at his lips. “Sorry I’m late,” I told Leo. “You’re welcome for last night,” he stated matter-of-factly. “If it weren’t for me, this guy would have been beating down your door at midnight.” Swinging my head between them, I asked, “What the hell for?” “Shut the door,” Johnson grumbled. I gave it a shove and then mimicked Johnson’s posture by crossing my arms over my chest, refusing to move to the empty chair next to him. That unease I felt in the garage slammed into my gut once again. Leo dug through a pile of papers on his messy desk and said, “Before we get started, I wanted to let you know I got great feedback on you from Senator White’s family. They had nothing but incredible things to say about you, so I’ve decided to assign you a more permanent position.” A huge smile split my face. I’d been hoping for something steady rather than the revolving door of odds-and-ends security jobs. Read: the shit work none of the other guys wanted. “That’s good fucking news,” I stated. “You and Johnson will be splitting duty. You two can work out your own schedule based on when he’s needed with Slate and Erica in Indy. This is not going to be a nine-to-five position, Levitt. And sometimes you’re gonna have to be on shift for well over forty hours a week. But I’m not thinking you’ll mind, considering your new assignment is with Rhion Park.” My spine shot straight. “Come again?” Leo looked to Johnson and grinned. “You’re up, my man.” I took a step deeper into the room. “I’m sorry. Did you say my new assignment is with Rhion?” “Don’t get excited. It doesn’t pay overtime,” Johnson said, grabbing a thick file folder off the corner of Leo’s desk. Then he offered it my way. “Last night was the first time Rhion has willingly left her apartment without me in two years.” I blinked, and that familiar unease didn’t just wash over me—it flooded me like a tidal wave. “What?” He shifted lower in his chair and kicked his legs out in front of him. Cool. Calm. Composed. Everything I was not. “She has her groceries delivered,” he said. “A lady who does her clothes shopping. A stylist who

comes and does her hair. Hell, her tattoo guy even does house calls after she set him up a station in one of the bedrooms.” I narrowed my eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?” There’s no way… Flashes of her freaking out on the way to my house the night before crashed into me. “You’re lying,” I accused. But, in my gut, I knew he wasn’t. My mind was reeling. I was finally getting the answers I so desperately wanted about Rhion. But these were wrong. All fucking wrong. My Butterfly wasn’t supposed to be broken anymore. She was supposed to have been flying free over the last few years, basking in the fact that she’d survived. She absolutely was not supposed to be locked up in an apartment, hiding from the world. “Explain,” I ordered. “We’ve been working on it recently,” Johnson said. “Actually, just the other night, before we ran into you at the bar, it was the first time she’d been able to walk across the street alone. Though it took her two hours to build up the courage, and that’s saying something, considering she knew Devon was stationed at the front of the bar and Alex and Lark were at the front of our building.” My mouth fell open. I shot Leo a questioning look, silently pleading for him to tell me that Johnson was full of shit. But his short nod confirmed it. “Why?” I asked. “What happened two years ago?” “Apollo happened,” Johnson sighed. “He got out of jail, cornered her at a charity event. Rhion’s been convinced ever since that he set the fire.” My head snapped to the side as if he’d hit me. No one knew who had started that fire. Arson was clear, but they’d never been able to pin it on anyone. “Wait. Wasn’t he in jail?” “Yep,” Johnson replied. “Then why would she think that?” “Um…because Apollo told her he set the fire.” I sank down into the chair next to him and scoffed. “That’s crazy. She can’t possibly believe…” The air in the room suddenly chilled. I looked to Johnson and found an ice storm radiating off his shoulders. “She is not fucking crazy,” he seethed. I cocked my head to the side, my confusion flashing to a whole lot of pissed off. “I didn’t say she was. I’m not sure if your eyes failed you this morning or what, but Rhion and I are together now. She’s got issues—those issues just became mine.” Johnson and I glared at each other until Leo waded in. “Okay. Okay,” he said. “Everyone take a breath. I think we can all agree that she means something to both of you.” He snapped his fingers. “Let’s keep this conversation moving forward.” Johnson tore his gaze away first and did it talking. “Apollo isn’t a threat. He’s an asshole. But he’s nothing to worry about. The problem is he lingers. It scares the fuck out of Rhion.” “He lingers?” I asked for clarification. “If Rhion walks out of her home, Apollo is somewhere nearby. She’s seen him. I can usually tag him before we exit the door. He doesn’t approach. He doesn’t say anything. He’s just there, screwing with her head.” “Have you tried to make contact with him? Call the cops? He’s a con, for fuck’s sake. Have them pick him up?” “We tried that when it first started happening. They picked him up but eventually let him go. He hasn’t

really done anything wrong,” he said casually. But there was nothing casual about the vise compressing my ribs. “Yet, anyway!” I burst up out of my chair. “He’s stalking her! I’d say that’s something.” “Yeah, well, until he makes a move, there isn’t shit we can do. Right now, they peacefully coexist in a city together. It’s our job to make sure, when he does make that move, he doesn’t touch her.” “They aren’t coexisting if she’s locked up in her apartment, afraid to leave without a full guard.” “I agree. But, when we’ve tried to confront him, it makes things worse. About a year ago, I caught him lurking outside the building and had a chat with him.” Leo chuckled. “I’m not sure it can be considered a chat when you came back wearing a couple pints of his blood.” Johnson shrugged and kept talking. “It was right before Christmas, and we had plans to head to New York so she could spend it with Pete and Sandy. I was hoping to put him out of commission long enough to get her out of town. But that stupid motherfucker showed up at the airport looking like a goddamn zombie, freaked Rhion out so bad she refused to get out of the car. We spent Christmas huddled around a Charlie Brown tree in her apartment, eating Chinese takeout. He turned up his efforts after that. Started calling her name when we’d go out so she knew where he was. It was at least three months before he went back to hiding in the shadows. So trust me. For Rhion’s sake, it’s best to ignore him. Be vigilant. But leave him alone.” Fuck. Why did that feel like someone had just beaten the piss out of me? I sighed and grabbed the back of my neck. “And this is why you two are so tight? She won’t go anywhere without you.” “Yep. Well, that and I’ve known her since she was a teen.” My eyebrows shot up. “Before he died, I worked for her father,” he stated, rising to his feet. “For five years, I was his personal guard. The man who escorted him to Rhion’s horse shows and softball games when she was in high school. The one who pulled her off his lifeless body when he had a heart attack the day she graduated college.” He rose from his chair and stabbed a finger to my chest. “And I was the man who stood at her side the day you tried to fight your way in to see her at the hospital.” I sucked in a sharp breath. He chuckled. “Yeah. It’s safe to say, after that bullshit, I’m not your biggest fan by a long shot, Jude.” “I…” I started. And, for the first time since I’d met him, our fucked-up relationship made sense. “I wanted to tell her I was sorry.” He smirked. “And that’s the only reason we’re standing here, having this conversation, instead of me hiding your body.” Leo’s hand landed on my shoulder. “That file folder has all the information you’ll need about Apollo, including pictures and his usual MO. As of last night, you are officially assigned to Rhion Park. She is not just your girlfriend, Levitt. Rhion Park is my number-one client. She pays for round-the-clock surveillance inside her apartment and a full-time guard. If Johnson isn’t here, there’s always a man in the office in case she needs something. You just became that man. Permanently.” “What the fuck?” I exclaimed. “Inside her apartment?” Johnson barked a laugh. “There’s been a whole lot of eye bleach passed around the security room since your little appearance last weekend. Don’t worry. I deleted that shit.” “And for God’s sake,” Leo said. “See what you can do about getting her out of the apartment more. She’s family here at Guardian. I worry about her being alone so much.” He grabbed a bunch of paperwork and a cup of coffee off his desk before heading to the door. I caught his arm before he had a chance to leave. “Don’t you think this is a conflict of interest? She and I are—” “Oh, absolutely,” he stated. “But she doesn’t fully trust any of the other guys, so we’re gonna have to

work with what we got. And, right now, you, son, are all I got.” “Jesus. Christ. This is not a good idea.” “Funny,” Leo said. “Those were my exact thoughts when I watched the miracle of her walking out to your car last night. But you know what? Judging by that hickey on your neck, that worked out fine for everyone involved, now didn’t it?” I slapped a hand up to my neck and searched around as if I could feel it, causing both of them to laugh. Johnson followed him to the door. “Take the day and memorize every page of that file. You skim one fucking word, I will rip your eyeballs from your head and make you manually read it.” I glared and muttered, “Right.” “Right,” he parroted, and then, seconds later, he and Leo were gone. What the hell was going on? Rhion was one step away from being a recluse. I was her new bodyguard and her boyfriend. And, if I factored in that our relationship was only days old, this was a recipe for disaster. Leo had officially lost his mind. Unfortunately, as I tore that folder open and started reading, it appeared I had too.



My body ached—the sweet agony of a night spent with a man between my legs. It was a new feeling for me. I hadn’t been with anyone since college, and that had been before the fire, before scars had covered most of my upper body, and before I’d turned myself into a human canvas to cover them. I’d never been a burn victim who was ashamed of my scars. I didn’t want to hide them. I wanted them to be beautiful. I’d survived. And, for the first few months after the fire, I hadn’t been sure I would. Those scars were my trophies. And so was that ache between my legs. It was my blissful reward for having been strong enough to follow my heart and not allow my mind to keep me locked up inside the fortress of my apartment. I was stacking a pile of books in the crook of my arm when I caught sight of Jude’s bag in the corner of my room. He was spending the night. Again. Only, this time, he’d be doing it in my bedroom instead of the ocean room. And, this time, I’d make it a night he wouldn’t be able to forget. Which was exactly why I was clearing out all things fictional-Jude from my room in order to make space for the real thing. I’d had Johnson help me carry the shelf that usually stood proudly in my living room to my bedroom last week in case Jude decided to make another impromptu four a.m. appearance. But, now, my book babies that I liked to keep on display would need to be moved again. Barefoot, I padded down the hall to the third bedroom and set them on the shelf I’d cleared in my giant built-ins that lined every inch of the walls. When I’d originally approved the floor plan, it was supposed to be my office. However, when my tattoo guy told me he needed a more hygienic workstation than a chair at my dining room table, it then became his office. It was okay; I’d written some of my best works cuddled up under a blanket in bed anyway. I’d just gotten my paperbacks settled on the top shelf when I heard a knock at my door. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was only noon. A flurry of anxiety stirred inside me. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and after the fiasco with my stepmom, I couldn’t be too safe. It was Wednesday. Zach would be in the security room. I looked up at the ceiling and called, “Zach?” A second later, his voice came through the speakers. “It’s Levitt at the door, Rhion.” Then I heard him chuckle as I sprinted at full speed to the front door. Sliding to a stop, I sucked in a deep breath and took inventory of how I looked. Hair in a ponytail, black leggings, and an oversized, yellow T-shirt I’d thrown on after I got out of the shower. No bra. Crap! Oh well. He’d seen me without a bra that morning, and he’d seemed to like it quite a bit. Having my new man working upstairs, where he could stop by at any moment, was going to drastically change my morning routine. My grin couldn’t have gotten any wider as I snatched the front door open. I lied. It got wider—exponentially—as Jude’s eyes drifted down to my boobs.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Rhion,” he cursed, tugging me against his chest with one hand while he dug his phone out of his pocket and lifted it to his ear. Then he barked, “Tell Zach to turn the cameras off. Now.” Uh oh. My body locked up tight. Jude knew there was security in my apartment. I should have known that it was only a matter of time before he found out. All the guys knew. But he didn’t exactly seem thrilled about it. “Right,” he snapped. “From here on out, you see me walk in this door, they go off immediately. I’ll check in when I leave.” I was lost in thought about which of those rat-bastards had tattled on me when Jude lowered his phone and pressed his lips to the top of my hair. “I’m not in this apartment, you wear a fucking bra. You got it, Butterfly?” My stomach fluttered, and I looked up at him. “Are you being sweet and rude in the same sentence?” “No. What I’m being is dead serious. Zach is a single, thirty-four-year-old man.” He moved a hand up my side and then pushed in until his thumb raked across my nipple. I gasped. “He’s got a zoom button, Rhion. I can guarantee they’ve been zoomed in on these a time or two. Do me a favor. Put on a bra. And don’t make me kill him next time I see him at the office.” Pushing up onto my toes, I brushed his lips with mine. “To answer my question: Yes, you were being sweet and rude in the same sentence. To answer your question: Yes, I can put on a bra when you are not in my apartment so you don’t have to put on a loin cloth and pound your chest before killing Zach.” I kissed him chastely. Then I finished with, “Besides, I need him alive. He gives great Christmas gifts. He thinks I work in IT, so he gives me really cool gadgets.” Jude glowered as he stepped into my apartment and shut the door. “That’s another thing. I need to know what you actually do for work. And none of the bullshit pieces of you. I need the truth.” I twisted my lips and attempted to change the subject. “What are you doing here? Couldn’t stay away from me?” I winked, but his face didn’t soften. “I’m reporting for duty.” “Say what?” He placed his hand at the small of my back and subtly guided me over to the couch. I felt it immediately. His palm never came flush with my back. It was just his fingertips and the heel of his hand. It was wrong. It was the way Johnson touched me when we were out: practiced and professional. I arched away from his sterile touch and turned to face him. “What are you talking about? Reporting for duty?” “Have a seat, Rhion.” I shook my head, and my voice grew agitated. “Damn it. Tell me what you mean.” He didn’t delay in catching me at the back of my neck and giving it a reassuring squeeze before pinning me with his gaze. “Calm down. Nothing to get upset about.” I shifted my focus between his eyes, noticing for the first time that they contained tiny flecks of gold around the edges, but it was the calming effect they had on me that surprised me the most. All at once, my tense body relaxed. “There ya go,” he praised, and then his hand once again landed on my back, but it was Jude’s hand: warm, reassuring, protective, possessive. “Come on, babe,” he purred, walking with me to the couch. I curled into the corner and pulled my legs up beneath me as he sat sideways to face me, his arm running across the top behind me. Close. Attentive. Secure. “Jude,” I prompted when he didn’t say anything. “Johnson gave me the low points about Apollo.”

Uh oh. This would definitely explain the coolness with which he’d touched me. He knew the truth. “I…uh…” He shifted closer and whispered, “Baby, why didn’t you tell me last night that you don’t like to leave your apartment?” “Um, because it’s crazy. And I really don’t want you to think I’m crazy,” I confessed. He smirked. “You told me you’re an aquatic veterinarian to the stars, you have an ocean room, and you full-ass Thanksgiving. I already know you’re a little crazy, Rhion.” “Okay, let me amend my statement: I don’t want you to think I’m a lot crazy.” “Then explain it. That’s all you ever have to do with me. I’m not sure what your aversion to conversation is, but if you want the truth, that is the only thing I find a lot crazy about you.” My heart raced as I considered actually telling Jude about my past. But there was an undeniable part of me that wanted him to know. And I wanted him to stay. To understand me in ways that no one else did. “Apollo follows me,” I whispered. “I know.” I swallowed hard. “He was there the night you showed up at the bar. He walked in behind you.” His eyes turned dark, but his face filled with understanding. “That’s why you ran?” “I lost it, Jude. I do every time I see him. He set me on fire. He wanted me dead. He still wants me dead.” “Rhion,” he said in the same placating tone Johnson used any time we talked about the fire. “He was in jail. There’s no way he started the fire.” “So he had someone do it for him. He hates me, Jude.” He hooked an arm under the back of my legs and dragged me onto his lap. Holding me close, he asked, “Why?” “I don’t know,” I choked. “I mean, I guess I do.” “Then tell me,” he implored. “You’re going to laugh…but I’ve always felt like he was destined to hate me. See, my mom was a novice astronumerologist. She swore she could read the stars and all that crap. When I was born, she named me after the constellation Orion. For reasons known only to my mother and JR Ward, she added an h.” “JR who?” he asked. “She’s an author.” I waved him off. “Anyway…according to lore, Orion was in love with Artemis, much to her brother Apollo’s dismay. Eventually, Apollo tricked Artemis into killing Orion.” “Uh huh.” He blinked at me for several seconds. “And do you have any reasons to believe your brother hates you that don’t involve mythology?” “Maybe.” “Could I get those?” I let out a resigned sigh. “Fine. My father was no saint. He had a temper and was known to be cutthroat in the boardroom. But he was good dad—at least to me. He and Apollo…” I trailed off, shaking my head. “They were oil and water. Apollo lied about everything, and it drove Dad crazy. They used to fight nonstop. Dad shipped him off to this posh boarding school when he was in sixth grade. He got kicked out the first week. After that, Dad sent him to a not-so-posh military school. Apollo was miserable. He wrote letters and begged to come home, but Dad refused. When he came home for Christmas that year, he started acting aggressive toward me. He shoved me down the stairs, broke my arm. I swore to my father that it was an accident. It wasn’t. He’s just so damn angry. “The following year, he tied me to a chair and cut all of my hair off the day before my big Christmas performance at school. I had our maid sneak me to the salon before my father saw. I was scared of

Apollo, but I was terrified for him if Dad ever found out all the shit he did to me. It got to the point where I’d make up excuses to leave town any time he was going to be home. I rarely saw him after that, but I missed him. We were close as kids. We were young when Mom died, and Dad traveled a lot, but we had each other. When he went to jail, I hated the idea of him being alone, so I went to visit him. And the strangest thing happened: He opened up. He apologized, Jude. For everything. He was a mess, so filled with regret. He may have been in an orange jumpsuit and behind bars, but I laughed with my brother for the first time in almost a decade. Every week for a year, I went to visit him, two hours each way. And I felt like I’d finally gotten my family back. And then Dad died.” My throat became thick with emotion, rendering me unable to speak. “He left you everything,” Jude filled in when my words failed me. “And your brother lost his mind. And then, six weeks later…the fire.” I nodded. “And then, two years ago, he got out of jail?” “He attacked me at a charity event. Spouting lies about my entire family then told me he set the fire to teach me a lesson…” The words died on my tongue. “And then he started following you, so you figured it was easier to hide than deal with him.” My breathing shuddered as I tried to get my scrambled emotions under control. There was something distinctly freeing about telling someone, especially Jude, about the world that kept me locked in my ivory tower. “It wasn’t just Apollo though. People came out of the woodwork after I inherited everything. All of Dad’s ex-wives, their kids, long-lost cousins. Even my best friends had their hands held open. People would show up to hang out with me while I was recovering from the fire, spend a couple of hours, and then, hours later, hit me up for money. Everything just felt so premeditated and insincere. I’d never felt so alone. So I decided I didn’t want it anymore. I signed over control of my father’s estate to his old business partner, Peter Higgins.” His face turned to stone as he whispered ominously, “Peter Higgins.” Embarrassed at the memory of when Jude punched him at the hospital, I attempted to look away, but Jude didn’t allow it. Catching my chin, he forced my gaze back to his. “You gave him all of it?” “Technically, it’s still mine, but he controls it now.” I laughed sadly. “See? I told you it’s a lot crazy.” “Jesus Christ, Rhion. Stop saying that. In the span of two years, you lost your father, nearly lost your own life in a fire that has never been solved, and had the brother who’d mentally and physically abused you get out of jail only to start stalking you, all while having to deflect people who tried to leech money off you. Personally, I don’t think hiring a security firm and keeping to yourself is all that extreme.” “Oh God.” My shoulders shook as a tear fell from my eyes. He understood. Jude tucked a stray hair behind my ear and grinned, “Look at you talking in paragraphs and actually saying something at the same time.” I half laughed, half sobbed as he kissed me. He kept his mouth closed, but it was deep and lingering. Promising. When he finally leaned away, he held my gaze and said, “Leo assigned me as your new bodyguard.” I laughed. “Yeah, right.” “He liked the fact that you trusted me enough to go back to my place. So they sat me down this morning and laid it out. I needed to be fully informed if we’re out and we run into Apollo.” “Yes, okay. Fully informed, fine. But what about Johnson?” He frowned. “Not that I don’t think you couldn’t do it or anything,” I rushed out. “It’s just… I’ve known Johnson for

a long time and he gets me.” His already hard face became harder, so I kept talking. “I mean, I know you get me too. It’s different with him though.” Jude’s eyes narrowed. So I blurted, “I’m not having sex with him!” Smooth, Rhion. Thankfully, Jude’s lips twitched, and he sifted his fingers into my hair, leaving his palm resting over my cheek. “I’m gonna take this as good news, considering I’m having sex with you.” I pressed into his hand and whispered, “I don’t want you guarding me, Jude. Sometimes, I get a little freaked out when Apollo shows up. I don’t want you to see me like that.” “Baby, have a little faith in me.” “I do have faith in you. Swear to God I do. But, Jude, this is different. I’d like to have a talk with Leo about this. I don’t feel comfortable—” “Johnson and I will be splitting duty,” he stated as fact. “But, considering me and you now have a personal and professional relationship. I’m betting the majority of this is going to fall on my shoulders.” I bit my lip. “Fall on your shoulders. Just what every girl wants to hear.” “Rhion, look at me.” I begrudgingly gave him my gaze. “I’m keeping this assignment because, if your brother tries to make a move, I’m gonna be the man to keep you safe. And, if you get freaked out, then get freaked out. I’ll be the man to take care of that too. I’m not sure how taking my girlfriend out to dinner is going to translate on a résumé, but for me, it’ll be worth it. So, yeah, Rhion. This is me checking in for duty. And tonight, when I take you out to dinner, I’ll ask Johnson to tag along, not because I need him there, but because I think you do. We’ll take this transition slow, okay?” My heart soared as I stated the obvious. “You don’t like Johnson.” “Not even a little bit, though he’s growing on me since I found out he’s been taking care of you since you were a kid.” I sucked in a shaky breath and buried my face in his neck. “Thank you.” “How about you save the gratitude for when I have you naked tonight, and for now, give me some of the real pieces of Rhion Park?” I smiled and allowed the truth to slip from my lips. “I’m a romance author.” He rumbled in frustration, “I’m serious, Rhion.” I leaned back so I could see him. “I am, too. I started writing after the fire.” Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Okay, so maybe some pieces could wait until we’d been together for more than a few days. He tipped his head to the side and studied my face. “I have no idea if you’re bullshitting me or not.” “It’s true, I swear. I’ve written fifteen books now.” He blinked and asked in disbelief, “And you make enough selling them to cover a downtown apartment, personal chefs, and twenty-four-hour protection?” “Oh God, no. I don’t sell them. I just write them.” He twisted his lips and drawled, “Aaand, again, I have no idea if you’re serious or not.” I laughed. “I’ve never published them. Have you ever sat down and read reviews online?” “I can honestly say I have not.” “Well, let’s just say they aren’t always pretty. I would have to stay drunk for, like, a month if I ever unleashed my books into the world. Writing is my therapy. It helps me get my thoughts and feelings out. It’s an outlet for my creativity, and I don’t need anyone else judging that. I’d do it for free, but a girl’s got to eat. When I signed over control of the money to Pete, I was already hiding out in my apartment, so a

nine-to-five job was out. Not that I really had any special skills to begin with. My degree is in journalism, but I basically went to college to make Dad happy and stay away from Apollo. My first job out of college was recovering from the burns. That’s when I started writing, and I fell in love. There are a few people who read my books, like my best friend, Brianna, and occasionally my stepsister, Katie. But I like it that way. The deadlines give me a schedule so I don’t feel like I’m wasting away in this apartment, and the money is just an incentive. I’ll get a stipend whether I finish them or not, but the way Pete and I set it up, I get an additional bonus each time I finish a book. They keep my heart happy. My mind sharp. And my hands busy. It might sound silly, but it’s my dream job. And I don’t care one bit that no one reads them. I don’t need the approval from others. Those books are for me. No one else.” He failed to keep a straight face as he said, “So, let me get this straight. You write stories that no one will ever read, and then someone pays you with your own money, which is enough for you to wear twelve-hundred-dollar heels and spend ridiculous amounts of money on a little girl you’ve only known for hours?” I swayed my head from side to side in consideration. “Pretty much. And you might think it’s insane, and in some ways, it is. But, at this juncture in time, I’d like to remind you that you just admitted to knowing how much my shoes cost, which means either you have a predilection for high heels—a fetish that could potentially bode well for me if this relationship works out—or you actually took the time to look up my shoes on the Internet and see how much they cost. Which, I’ll be very honest, makes you look rather creepy. So I’m not sure you are currently in the position to call anyone insane.” Jude smiled. And I’m talking a wide, blinding, white smile that made my stomach dip and a soft moan escape my lips. He leaned me back until my shoulders were against the couch, and then he rolled on top of me, where he kissed me, hard and wet. “I retract my statement. You’re a lot crazy,” he murmured against my lips. I was. But, if the way Jude’s cock thickened between us was any indication, he liked it. He confirmed this when he pushed my shirt up and aimed his mouth to my breast, mumbling, “I gotta say—I like it, Butterfly.”



“Katie, I swear to God, if you do not call me back, I’m flying to your house and kicking the door down. Yes, I know I have a key, seeing as the building is still in my name, but I’ve always wanted to kick a door down. And, as your landlord, I’m going to charge you double to fix it.” I peeked my head out of my bedroom door and saw Jude hovering over the maps sprawled across my dining room table. I smiled to myself. It had been a week since that night on Jude’s dining room table, and I could honestly say it had been hands down the best seven days of my life. I hadn’t written a single word in that time, but it had been worth missing every self-imposed deadline for those nights spent in his arms. After silently closing the door again, I went back to cussing my stepsister out on her voicemail for what had to be the hundredth time. “I can’t believe you told your mother about my books!” I hissed. “She almost busted me out in front of Jude. But you probably already knew about that, considering you gave her my address! What the hell was that about? You fucked up big time. Now, call me back so I can scream at you. Voice messages aren’t nearly as therapeutic as the real thing.” I pressed end and let out a loud growl. She’d call back eventually, probably right before her birthday. This year, I’d decided to really stick it to her by shopping in the online clearance section. Unfortunately, I knew myself well enough to know I’d get bored with the clearance stuff and click over to the shoes and we’d both end up with a new pair of Manolo Blahniks. I had a serious weakness for shoes. After flopping onto my bed, I hit Pete’s number on the speed dial. It had been a while since we’d talked, and while I’d filled Sandy in on everything about Jude just the day before, Pete had yet to return my call. “Peter Higgins’s office,” Sandy answered. “Hey, it’s Rhion.” “Oh, hey, baby.” I grinned. “Any chance Pete’s free?” “You’ve got good timing. He just walked out of a meeting. Hang on and I’ll put you through.” “Hey,” I said, catching her before she transferred the call. “Did you have a chance to, um…” “To tell him about your tryst with the drunk cop? Yes.” “He’s not a drunk cop!” I exclaimed before lowering my voice so Jude wouldn’t hear me. “And it’s not a tryst. We’re…together.” “Maybe, but I’m telling you. Pete is never going to trust the guy.” I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well. I’m a big girl, so I’m the only one who needs to trust Jude.” And I did. Implicitly. An idea that made me smile. I trusted people in my life, but it was a very short list. Before Jude, Johnson had been the one name permanently inked on it. “He punched Pete when you were in the hospital, Rhion.”

I groaned. “It was…a tumultuous time for us all after the fire. Can you just get Pete for me?” “Sure thing. And good luck.” “Gee, thanks,” I smarted, curling my legs under me as I settled into my favorite spot right in the middle of the mattress. “Hey, kiddo!” Pete said in the same chipper tone he always used with me. This time it wasn’t genuine. “Hey, Pete,” I replied softly. “To what do I owe this honor? You finish the new book?” “I know you know about Jude.” “And I know you know I don’t approve. So, why bring it up?” I sucked in a sharp breath. “Because I want you to approve. Because I’m crazy about him. Because I want you to meet him.” “I don’t approve. I’m not crazy about him. And I’ve already met him.” “Pete!” “Rhion!” he mocked. “Look, I need to go. I have a meeting across town in half an hour. I can’t make decisions for you, but the man almost got you killed. You’ll have to excuse me for not being real excited that he’s now trying to screw you in a different way.” I gasped. “I can’t believe you just said that.” “Well, I did. And I mean it. Now, do you need anything else?” “What I need is for you to stop being an ass,” I retorted. “I’m happy for the first time in a long while. And I’d appreciate it if you at least pretended that makes you happy too.” “Oh, I’m ecstatic, Rhion. But I’m also on standby for when this guy drops his guard and you realize he’s nothing more than a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Do me a favor and make sure to let him know you don’t have the money anymore.” I wanted to laugh at the idea of Jude being the wolf, considering he’d been my prey since our first night together. Grinding my teeth, I shot back, “He already knows.” “Then that’s fantastic news. I expect to hear from you next week when he hits the road.” “You keep acting like this, you won’t be hearing from me at all.” If I hadn’t needed something, I would have hung up on him. But, as it stood, the best I could do was get pissy. Moving to my vanity to start on my makeup for the day, I snapped, “I need the keys to the house in LA and access to the plane.” “The house in LA has tenants in it, and I sold the plane,” he replied. My hand froze in midair, my foundation brush never making it to my face. “What are you talking about?” He sighed. “You haven’t gone farther than two blocks from your apartment in two years, Rhion. It’s not like you were using them.” “You let strangers move into my childhood home?” This was spoken at exactly one decibel below a shriek. “It’s been vacant for years. It’s called passive income.” “It’s called my fucking home. And you sold Dad’s plane? What the hell!” “I was paying thousands of dollars a month to rent a hangar to keep an unused plane.” “I!” I seethed. “Excuse me?” “You said you were paying, but I am the one who was paying thousands of dollars each month to hold on to something of my father’s.” “You begged me to take over the finances for you.” I had. Desperate and in hysterics. But it wasn’t like it had been a hard sell. When someone tries to hand you the reins to a multimillion-dollar empire, you probably wouldn’t say no. Unfortunately for my

father, I was one of those few. But I’d given it to Pete knowing he’d manage it responsibly so I’d eventually have something to pass down to my children. Things like the beach house where I’d spent every single summer of my childhood, including those with my mother. The same one that now had tenants living in it. “Out!” I exclaimed. “I want them out. I don’t care what it costs. Jude’s daughter lives in LA, so I’m going to be spending a lot of time there. I want my house.” “Ah…so this is about Jude? Let me guess: You mentioned the beach house and he pounced?” It could be said that I was a bit of a pushover. Especially with the people I loved. And, I loved Pete. But he did not get to talk shit about Jude based on one emotionally driven experience with him. And he sure as hell didn’t get to pass judgment about my motives just minutes after telling me that he’d rented my house out without talking to me first. I squared my shoulders and confidently stared at myself in the mirror as I snarled, “No. This is about me. I want to go to LA to visit Val. And I want to do it in my father’s plane and stay in my house. And you are going to make that happen. And, while you are at it, you’re going to draw up paperwork so all of his physical possessions are back in my control. Do what you want with the companies. I’ve given you carte blanche there. But, if my father physically touched it, I want the final decision on what we do with it. That means the houses, the yacht, the plane, his cars, and whatever else is still left from when he was alive. Those are mine.” “Rhion,” he said, exasperation apparent in his voice. “You—” But I was done listening. I’d given him control over the money, not my entire life. “Mine, Pete! Now, let me know when you secure the LA house and get the plane back.” He didn’t immediately reply, and I had to pull the phone away from my ear to make sure he hadn’t hung up. “You sound like your father,” he said softly. My chest warmed. “The being-demanding thing?” “The being-right thing,” he corrected. My head snapped back. It wasn’t the first time Pete and I’d had our differences. He always gave in, but it was usually after a chat about how he was worried about me and looking out for my best interests, blah blah blah. However, if he was willing to save the lecture, I was willing to forgo the headache I’d get from rolling my eyes while he gave it. His voice was gentle as he said, “I’ll get you the house, but the plane is gone. I’ll have Sandy charter you something for your personal use.” I proudly grinned. “That would be great.” “You’re smiling, aren’t you?” “Like a maniac.” He chuckled. “I’ll also see what I can do about keeping my opinions to myself about the new beau.” My eyes flashed wide, and I mouthed, “Oh my God,” at my reflection. “That…would…be amazing.” His chuckle turned into a belly laugh. “You sound surprised.” “I am. A little. Okay, a lot. I think you’re losing your edge. Though, for what it’s worth, I’m sure Dad would appreciate your giving me crap about dating Jude. But I swear to you he’s a good guy.” “I hope so, Rhion. For his sake and yours.” I giggled at the idea of fifty-seven-year-old Peter Higgins going after Jude. Sure, Pete was tall-ish and liked to keep in shape, but come on… It was Jude. “You think that’s funny?” he teased. “I could have taken him the first time. He caught me off guard with that punch.” I laughed louder. “Of course. Of course.” “All right. Now, if you’re done laughing at me, I seriously have a meeting.”

“Okay. I’ll let you go. Love you, Pete.” “Love you too, kiddo.” And then he was gone. Mentally making a note to ask Jude about a trip to New York to visit Pete and Sandy, I went back to doing my makeup and got ready for the rest of my day.

Three days later…

Finger-combing my damp hair, I meandered down the hall in search of Jude. Since assuming the position as my bodyguard, Jude had done a lot to up my security. Things like having all the keys to my apartment recoded. Now, Johnson, Leo, and Jude were the only ones who had a copy. Though he’d had a guy come in and rewire my door so that, in case of emergency, the security room could manually open it for any of the guys. It seemed a little extreme even to me, but Jude was no joke when it came to work. The first night we had gone out to dinner with Johnson, Jude had spent hours preparing: pouring over maps, plotting routes, and doing research on the restaurant. And I’d quickly learned that, during his “onduty hours,” which he had magnanimously declared were eight to five, Jude was all business. Much to my dismay, not once had I been able to convince him to guard my naked body during that time. And that is not to say I hadn’t tried. I’d strutted around the apartment in a thong and a mesh corset just the day before. Jude hadn’t even looked up from his computer. I’d assumed having your boyfriend as a member of your security team would have its perks, but all I’d gotten was Mr. Serious and Professional. It should be noted that, while that guy was sexy as hell sporting tailored suits and a stoic glare, he was no competition for my Jude with that secret smile he reserved just for me. Luckily, the minute five p.m. rolled around, he’d give me my man back. And that usually consisted of me ending up on my back, but occasionally, he’d let me be on top. As I reached the end of the hall, I found him at my dining room table, leaning over a map of the city, his dark-blond, chin-length hair tucked behind his ears, a single strand dangling free in his face. He was looking downright edible in a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing his toned forearms off. It was then that I decided that it was time to press my luck. Maybe I just hadn’t been trying hard enough. I quickly peeled my robe off, which left me in nothing but a pair of panties, and prowled toward him. “Hey,” he said without ever lifting his head. “Hey,” I replied, dragging a finger over his shoulders. “Whatcha doing?” “Plotting our route for tonight.” “Uh, we’re meeting Johnson for dinner at the Copper Wire. It’s at the end of the block. I’m pretty sure there’s only one route to get there.” I lifted myself to sit on the edge of the table, careful not to wrinkle his papers, and waited for him to look up. “And that is why you’re the client, not the bodyguard,” he replied absently, continuing to draw little markers around what I assumed was our building.

I smiled and plucked the pen from between his fingers. “Any chance I can be the filthy client who ravages my hot bodyguard?” He looked up at me, impassive as ever. “It five yet?” I rolled my shoulders back to press my breasts into his face. “No. But that’s what makes it so exciting.” Using my foot, I grazed the zipper on his slacks. “It’s forbidden, Jude. You could get fired if anyone found out.” His lips twitched as he pointedly glanced down at my foot. “Leo knows we’re together. I’m not getting fired.” I whispered seductively, “You don’t know that for sure.” “Yeah. I do,” he chuckled. I spread my legs wide and walked my fingers up the front of his shirt. “You can’t be positive though.” His gaze flashed down to my panties, but his eyes never lost the humor dancing within. “Yeah, babe. I’m pretty fucking positive, considering he hired me with a hickey you left on my neck.” My shoulders fell as I glared at him. “You’re seriously ruining this for me right now.” Grinning, he snagged the pen back. “Don’t you have a book to write?” “I do. But it’s a sex scene day. I could use a little…inspiration.” He went back to marking his map, muttering, “There’s porn on your computer, and I know all about the shit in your nightstand.” My mouth fell open. “You did not just tell me to go watch porn and pleasure myself.” He kept his head down, but I saw his mouth break into an epic grin. “And you think this is funny! I’m wasting away from sexual neglect and you’re laughing.” His head shot up, a mixture of humor and disbelief mingling in his features. “Sexual neglect? You’re kidding, right?” I was. Absolutely. But his eyes turned dark and, for the first time since I’d sat down, flashed to my breasts, so I went with it. “Not even close.” He cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his strong chest. “Rhion, I fucked you in the shower before I started working.” “Yeah, but that was forever ago.” “Your hair isn’t even dry yet,” he countered. Damn it! He had a point. “That’s not the point!” I bit my lip to stifle a laugh. That laugh turned into a gasp as he plucked my nipple. “Yesss,” I hissed, my lids falling shut. His long finger trailed a path up my thigh to my core. “You want to come again, baby?” Moaning, I nodded eagerly. I felt him stand from his chair. At the same time, he hooked his thumb into my panties, pulling them aside. Lazily, he dragged a finger through my wetness and up to my clit, where he circled with gentle pressure. “Oh God,” I cried, gripping his biceps for balance. “Open your eyes, Rhion.” When they fluttered open, he brought his fingers to his mouth and seductively licked them clean. My core clenched at the sight. Jeez, why was that so hot? My tongue darted out to dampen my lips as I became entranced with his tongue laving over his fingers. “I want to come again, too,” he whispered, his breath ghosting across my skin. “Yes,” I moaned. And then I nearly fell off the table when he suddenly backed out of my reach.

“But I’m on the clock. So it’s going to have to wait until five.” “Jude!” I scolded. “Put some fucking clothes on, Rhion.” “Are you kidding me? That was mean.” He glowered down at me. “No, what’s mean is you prancing your sexy ass out here in nothing but a pair of panties”—he caught my hand and used it to cup his thick erection—“getting me hard as a fucking rock, knowing I can’t do the first damn thing about it until I’m done for the day.” I scowled and jumped off the table. “You could do something about it. You are just choosing not to. I have no sympathy for you.” He scoffed. “Bullshit. Leo knows I’m fucking you. But he’s not paying me to fuck you. When I’m at work, I’m at work, Rhion.” Keeping my glare up, I walked to my robe and snatched it off the floor. “Perhaps you should start doing your work upstairs, then, so I don’t distract you.” He fisted his hands at his hips, his cock tenting the front of his pants, and replied, “Perhaps I should.” I shrugged the robe on, roughly pulling my hair out of the back as I said, “Perhaps you should do that now.” His jaw ticked as he watched me tie it closed. “Perhaps I will.” “Good.” “Good.” Unmoving, we defiantly stared at each other. His emerald-greens locked on my baby-blues. I licked my lips. He adjusted his cock. My nipples hardened. His face flashed with conflict. My hands went back to the belt of my robe. His gaze darkened, honing in on the movement. I untied the belt and allowed it to fall down my shoulders until it pooled on the ground at my feet. His breathing sped. My heart raced. “Fuck,” he growled. And then we both exploded forward, not stopping until our bodies had collided and our mouths had connected. Palming my ass, he lifted me off my feet, and I folded my legs around his waist. Our hands and lips were frenzied as he carried me down the hall. He bumped into the wall, sending pictures crashing to the ground and glass shattering everywhere. Neither of us gave them a second thought as he proceeded to my room. With three long strides, his legs swallowed the distance to my bed, where he dropped me, and just as quickly, he rolled me onto my stomach and stripped my panties down my legs. “Ass up,” he demanded. The sound of him undoing his belt and then his zipper made me shiver. Desire sank low in my belly when his wallet landed on the bed beside me, followed by the familiar crinkle of a condom. Smiling, I pushed up onto my knees, taunting him with a sway of my hips as I watched him roll the latex down his shaft. “Wipe that fucking grin off your face,” he growled. His palm landed on my ass with a slap that made me jump. “This can’t happen again.” I moaned as the bite of his hand traveled over my entire body, nipples to clit.

I’d barely recovered when he drove in. Hard. Fast. Deep. Stretching me beautifully. “Jude!” I cried as he slid his hand into the back of my hair and pulled, forcing me to push up onto my arms and arch my back. His other hand roughly cupped my breast, and he nipped at my earlobe. All the while, his hips never faltered in finding a punishing—and magnificent—rhythm. “My job is to keep you safe, Butterfly. If I’m fucking you, I’m not planning.” With an intoxicating tug on my hair, he planted himself at the hilt. “If we have no plans, shit will go wrong.” A strangled moan tore from my throat, the biting pain at my scalp swirling with the intense pleasure of his cock filling me. “Jude,” I breathed. “Shit goes wrong, it might not just be scars this time. I could lose you.” “More,” I begged, circling my hips. Another tug on my hair. A slow withdrawal before a deep thrust. An explosion of euphoria short-circuited my wanton brain. His voice was gruff as he declared, “I will not fail you again.” The mixture of pain and pleasure was my favorite delicacy, but his words were salt in a wound. The same wounds that covered twenty-seven percent of my body. The ones that had healed long ago—at least for me. One sentence felt like he’d taken a sandblaster to them all. “You didn’t fail me the first time,” I breathed, my orgasm rising to the surface even as my heart ached in my chest. “I did. Because I wasn’t fucking prepared. That shit will not happen again,” he groaned. The peak of my high had begun to fade out of my reach as tension built in my chest. “That’s not true,” I argued, my voice thick with emotion. Reaching back, I caught his wrist and tugged it around to the smooth, unmarred skin at my stomach. “You did this, Jude.” “Don’t.” He jerked his hand away. But I intertwined our fingers and moved them up to my pounding heart. “You feel that? You did that, too. The fire—” “We are not fucking talking about the fire while I’m inside you!” he seethed. I clenched my muscles so they pulsed around his length. “We’re always talking about the fire, honey. It doesn’t have to be words, but every time my heart beats, every time air fills my lungs, every time I wake up in a warm bed and not six feet in the ground, it’s a conversation about that night.” “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he rasped. “I’m alive,” I breathed, reaching back and gently resting my hand on the scars at the back of his neck. His whole body tensed, and an agonizing groan rumbled in his chest. “Shut up, Butterfly,” he ordered on a pained whisper. I inched my fingers up and brushed the tips over the ridges of his hardened flesh. “And that’s because of you, Jude.” “Jesus, fuck,” he muttered, his patience snapping. Releasing my hair, he folded over me, forcing me to slap my hand down to keep from faceplanting into the mattress. His ribbed abs and sculpted chest came down flush with my back, his shoulders rolled forward, and his weight bore down on me. Shoving his agile fingers between my legs, he imprisoned me against the bed with his tall frame. I threw my head back, the erotic combination of simultaneously being trapped and freed triggering my

release to rear up again. His hips began a torturous pace, coaxing me closer to the edge, all thoughts of the fire disappearing as I became lost in Jude. His mouth at my neck, biting and sucking, while our growls and moans joined in a feral symphony. Angry. Raw. Primal. Over and over, he mercilessly drove in, stretching the invisible rubber band within me tighter each time. “Jude!” I cried as my orgasm tore through me, slingshotting me into oblivion. My body shook as the aftershocks ravaged me, but Jude never slowed. Not his fingers. Not his cock. Not even his mouth. “No place I’d rather be, Rhion,” he panted. “All day. Every day. Never doubt that.” I pressed my ass higher against his hips in unspoken understanding. “But this…this is not going to keep you safe.” He finished on a drawn-out rumble as his body went taut. “Oh fuck, baby,” he groaned, collapsing on top of me, his weight crushing me, as he twitched and jerked through the wave of his release. “Can’t. Breathe,” I squeaked out, and he quickly pushed up onto his elbows to hover above me. We both lay there for several minutes, too sated to move as we caught our breath. Jude finally broke the silence with an ordered, “Say you understand.” A satisfied smile pulled at my lips as I turned my head so I could see him over my shoulder. “What I understand is that I’m never putting on clothes again.” His face turned hard. “I’m not fucking kidding here. When I’m working, I’m working. This pussy gets greedy, you take care of it until I can, but you have to stop fucking taunting me so I can get my shit done to ensure your piece-of-shit brother does not get near you.” A pang of guilt settled in my stomach. “I’m sorry.” His features softened instantaneously. “Don’t apologize. This is not a hardship. I’m just asking you to take it easy on me.” Slowly, he pulled out and rolled onto his back on the bed. “You,” he said, gathering me to rest on his chest, “and this body are my kryptonite. But I’ve gotta keep you unharmed and unscathed so I can end all of my days with you naked in my arms. Don’t make it harder on me.” He rested his palm on my face, tipped my head back, and planted a deep kiss to my lips. I closed my eyes and breathed in reverently. How did I argue with that? He wanted to keep me safe so he could end all of his days with me naked and in his arms. I definitely could not fault him for that. I kind of wanted to stay safe so I could end all of my days naked and in his arms. And, for that, I decided not to sexually harass Mr. Serious and Professional anymore. “Okay, honey,” I purred, stretching out then snuggling against his side. “I see I’ve got compliant Rhion,” he murmured, dropping his head back against the mattress to stare up at the ceiling. “Don’t count your chickens yet. I’m about to give you shit for saying ‘greedy pussy.’” He lifted his head to look down at me, a gleaming, white smile splitting his perfect lips. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like that. I nearly came again from how tight you spasmed around me.” I bit my lip and shifted my gaze away. Foiled by my own damn body. Blasted! He chuckled and gave my hip a squeeze. “I gotta get back to work. You going to be able to keep your panties on until this afternoon, or should I take it upstairs?” “I think I should be good. I need to work too. Maleficent is about to get angry-fucked.” His smile grew wider as he stood up and stepped out of his pants, which were tangled around his ankles. “Based on how hard you just came, I’m thinking she’s gonna like it.”

I half rolled my eyes—only half because, when he turned, I got a spectacular view of his ass as he walked to the bathroom. “You do realize it’s fiction, right? Just because I like something doesn’t mean my characters will and vice versa,” I called after him. “Well, then see how she reacts to him calling her pussy greedy.” I laughed. “She’d kick Prince in the balls. She’s evil at the core. And can you please stop repeating it?” He appeared in the doorway, removing his dress shirt while sporting a cocky grin. “It’s turning you on, isn’t it?” It totally was. But I refused to let him know that. I rolled my eyes—all the way this time. “Aren’t you supposed to go back to being broody? Need I remind you that you are on the clock?” He laughed knowingly. “I have to change into something that isn’t going to smell like sex all day, so I’ve got a few minutes before I get back to it. I’ll skip lunch to make up the time.” “I’ll bring you a sandwich.” His eyes flicked down to my ass as he tugged on a new pair of slacks from out of his bag. “You gonna do it in clothes? Because you. Naked. In a kitchen. Making me a sandwich might be more than I can handle.” I shimmied my ass at him. “I already said I’d stop taunting you. But, if you happen to hear buzzing sounds coming from my room later, you might want to knock.” He snagged his old pants off the floor and transferred the contents of his pockets to his new ones. “Bullshit. I hear a buzzing coming from your room, I’m going to at least open the door and watch. Might not be able to act, but everybody deserves a five-minute break.” He winked. I giggled as he finished getting redressed. “Hey,” I called out to him. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I talked to Pete the other day.” “Oh, yeah?” he replied. I pretended not to notice the strain his voice took any time I mentioned my quasi-uncle. “Yeah…and I, um… How, um, often do you get visitation with Val?” “We don’t have a set schedule or anything. April usually lets me have her as long as I give her a heads-up. It frees her and the new guy up on the weekends.” “Oh well…then…” He stopped at the edge of the bed and shoved his hand into his pocket. “Paragraphs, babe. I gotta get back to it.” I rolled my eyes at the premature return of Mr. Serious and Professional. “I own a beach house in LA. And kinda-sorta have a personal plane. Or did. But, now, I have one we can use. Anyway…I was thinking, maybe in a few weeks…when we’ve adjusted to this new working relationship, we could um… take a trip to see your girl?” His face softened as he tipped his head ever so slightly. “You wanna go with me to see Val?” “Of course. She was awesome.” He grinned wide, his face lighting as it traveled to his eyes. “Yeah, Rhion. The minute you feel comfortable with that new working relationship, let me know and I’ll talk to Leo about taking a vacation. Me. You. Val. A beach house. Sounds spectacular.” It sounded pretty damn spectacular to me too. I bit my lip and smiled. His grin stretched as he bent over, his mouth aimed at mine. Then, with an, “I’ll see you at five, Butterfly,” and an all-too-brief kiss, I had the unfortunate pleasure of watching him walk out my bedroom to get back to work. And then I had the absolute pleasure of counting the minutes down until five, because I knew he’d be

coming back to me.

Three weeks later…

“Try it!” Devon demanded, sliding a mug of beer across the table. Rhion caught it and sent it right back to him. “No way. You can keep your nasty factory-produced beer to yourself. I’ll stick with the little guys who make it with love.” “Beer is beer, Rhion. Microbrew or not,” Johnson added, a mug of Bud sitting proudly in front of him. “Yes, if you have no palate or taste buds, you are absolutely right.” I draped my arm around her shoulders, but my gaze constantly moved around the bar. Surveying the room. Searching for a threat. My body eager to neutralize it, and if it was her brother, I’d shatter him. For the first week, Johnson had gone with us any time we’d left her apartment. It’d bothered me that she didn’t completely trust me to take care of her. Though, if I really thought about it, the other time I’d attempted to save her, she’d only narrowly made it out alive. When I’d brought this theory up to her, she’d dismissed it immediately, stating that I was becoming the crazy one. However, from the way my chest ached each time she attempted to touch the back of my head, I knew I was right. When she finally took the plunge and went out with me alone, Apollo made an appearance. We were at dinner when I tagged him sitting at the bar. He didn’t approach, and we didn’t hang around long enough to see if he was going to. Thankfully, I was able to distract Rhion so she didn’t notice him. The following week, he brazenly walked right past us as I guided Rhion into her new favorite place: the Neiman Marcus shoe department. He made sure she couldn’t miss him that time. We walked in one door and he walked out the other, a smug grin decorating his face. Rhion reacted so viscerally that it was only the need to take care of her that kept me from hunting him down. I didn’t care that he wasn’t making contact; he was torturing her all the same. She didn’t leave her apartment for a week after that, and it damn near broke me when her clothes started being delivered again. While I hated shopping something fierce, I loved watching Rhion come out of her cocoon and spread her wings. In those moments, I felt like I’d had a hand in bringing her back to life. And that feeling did some amazing things in my chest, because that was exactly what she had done for me. Rhion Park had ignited my life in unimaginable ways. The nightmares were gone, and each passing day, I felt lighter than I had in years. She’d done that. And there was nothing I wouldn’t do to return the favor. Rhion was beautiful inside and out. She could be quirky and funny, but she was also complex and ridiculously intelligent. She could debate the meaning of life just as easily as she could wax poetic about the relationship between Marshall and Lily from her favorite sitcom. Romantic by nature, she tried to

claim she’d calloused through the years and now considered herself to be more of a realist. However, the way her face had lit the night I’d brought her flowers, told me romance still ran thick in her veins. While she was kind and gentle, melting into me the moment the clock struck five every afternoon, she had no qualms about putting me in my place over the practicality of coasters. There were many brilliant colors to Rhion’s personality, and each one I’d discovered was more vibrant and awe-inspiring than the last. It wasn’t until Rhion that I’d truly realized how bland the first twenty-nine years of my life had been. I’d never experienced the color blue like I did when she stared up at me post-orgasm, her eyes shining and soft with trust. And white. White was one of those colors that used to just blend into the background, that I never really noticed. But white was also the color of the stars she’d hand-painted on the navy-blue ceiling in her ocean room. Because, to quote that crazy woman, “One couldn’t fully appreciate the sun at the beach without the contrast of the night’s sky.” I never could have anticipated just how deeply Rhion Park would ingrain herself in my life. But she had. Wholly. Completely. And, as the days passed, I’d begun to hope that maybe it would be permanently. Rhion curled into my side, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Don’t get me started on Jude drinking a bottle. They must have been out of cans,” she smarted. I chuckled and then tipped up the same beer I’d been nursing all night to polish it off. “You ready to go?” Rhion asked, peering up at me through her lashes. “Whenever you are.” “I’m tired. I might not even make you put out tonight.” Rhion had spent the day furiously decorating for Halloween. Leo had given her approximately five hours’ notice that he’d arranged for all the guys to bring their kids over to do a little early trick-or-treating at her place. She’d promptly written a mile-long list of candy for me to get and then lost herself in a sea of black and orange. I respected the fuck out of Leo James for being a strong leader and a savvy business owner, but it was moments like that, when he’d go out of his way to do something for Rhion, that made me respect him as a man. He’d been full of shit the day he’d told me that she was his number-one client. Leo had accounts much bigger than hers. However, he’d hit the nail on the head when he’d called her family. That was exactly how all of the men at Guardian took care of her. Not a single guy had bitched when Leo’d made the announcement about trick-or-treating at Rhion’s. Hell, a few of them went so far as to jump on the phone to borrow nieces and nephews to make sure her candy didn’t go to waste. I still stood my ground that Guardian was filled with some of the craziest people I’d ever met, but I’d never been prouder to be part of such an incredible group of men. My lips twitched as I arched an eyebrow at her. “Trick-or-treating take it out of you?” “No. Accosting you in the ocean room when the kids left took it out of me,” she replied, nudging me on the shoulder before yawning. I laughed and dug my wallet out to throw some cash on the table. “Say your goodbyes. Let’s get you home.” “Quitters!” Devon exclaimed, lifting his beer in the air as I slid out of the booth, pulling Rhion up with me. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she mocked, giving him a hug. I extended a hand Johnson’s way for a shake. We’d come leaps and bounds in the nearly two months I’d been working at Guardian. I wasn’t sure the two of us would ever be best friends, but with Rhion, we’d come together to accomplish a common goal—her safety. He tolerated me. I tolerated him. She adored us both. “You gonna stay for a while?” I asked him.

“Yeah,” he replied, getting to his feet, but his gaze never left Rhion. “She doing okay?” he asked under his breath so only I could hear. We both watched as she laughed wildly, swatting at Devon as he tried to force her to taste his beer. “She is,” I confirmed. “And what about you?” he asked. I visually swept through the room one more time before I cut my gaze his way. “What do you mean?” “I mean, she wasn’t the only one who walked away with scars from that fire.” I widened my stance and crossed my arms over my chest, not liking where it sounded like he was going with this. “You want to elaborate on that?” He finally turned, his hollow eyes staring through me. “Doesn’t take much for one brutally broken soul to recognize another. Your head is fucked, Levitt, but it’s the same reason I know you’ll take care of her.” A sense of uneasiness took up root in my stomach. “And what about you?” I asked. “You okay?” His face broke into an uncomfortable grin. “Nope. Don’t forget my head is fucked, too.” I followed his gaze as it drifted back across the table. Though, this time, it wasn’t Rhion who captivated his attention as she wrapped her arms around Alex’s thick neck. Alex looked anywhere but at Johnson as he awkwardly patted Rhion on the back with one hand before setting her away. Puzzled, I flicked my gaze back and forth between the two men until Rhion appeared at my side and looped her arm around my hips. “You ready?” “Yeah,” I replied absently. We both started past Johnson when she pulled up short to ask, “I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning, right?” He shot her a wink and a smile that resembled something more like a grimace. “You know it.” I didn’t figure she’d buy it. Rhion was astute, especially when it came to Johnson. But, less than a minute later, she was on my arm as we strolled across the street, back to her apartment.

It was well past midnight when my phone vibrated on the nightstand. “Hello,” I whispered while inching out from under Rhion’s sleeping body. “You sleeping?” Val asked. “Nope. But you should be.” She let out a long-suffering sigh. “I know. But I can’t sleep. I thought maybe we could have a talk. You know. Like old times.” Stealthily, I made my way to the door. “Jude? You there?” “Hang on,” I whispered, slipping out the bedroom door and silently closing it behind me. “Okay. Now, what’s up, sweetheart?” “You at Rhion’s?” she asked. “Yeah. She’s asleep, like someone else I know should be.” She giggled. “You already said that.” “But you’re still awake, so I figured it could stand to be repeated.”

Bypassing the ocean room next door for fear Rhion would hear me talking through the wall, I walked to the room at the end of the hall and flipped the light on. It was the one room in Rhion’s house we didn’t spend time in. In addition to using it for her tattoos, it was where she stored her vast collection of paperbacks. I’d occasionally found her in there, flipping through the pages of her favorite novels, but besides that, the door always remained shut. “Does this mean things are getting serious with you two?” Val asked. Wasn’t that the million-dollar question? Things had been serious with Rhion since I’d first laid eyes on her. What we needed now was light, easy, and painless. Or maybe that was just me, because while the sucker-punch of guilt still found me on occasion, Rhion seemed to have forgotten there was ever a fire in the first place. “I think so. Would that be cool with you?” I asked as I removed a book from one of her shelves. My woman liked her smut, so not surprisingly, there was an image full of abs on the front. With a chuckle, I slid it back into place. “No. I hate her.” “Val!” I scolded. She laughed. “I’m kidding! Of course. I love Rhion. She’s awesome. She surprised me with a giant box of clothes today.” “No. I surprised you with a giant box of clothes today. She just helped me pick them out. Good to know you got them though, brat,” I teased. “Thank you, Jude. I love them.” I smiled and moved to the other shelf. I knew exactly two things Rhion liked: expensive shoes and books. Dating a woman with money had its difficulties. With Christmas coming and no fucking way to afford a pair of twelve-hundred-dollar heels, books were on the menu. If I could figure out her favorite authors, I could probably do some serious damage at a bookstore for her. “You’re welcome,” I told Val. “I’m really proud of you for going down a size. Personally, I think it was unnecessary, but I love that, when you decided to lose some weight, you went about doing it the right way.” “And when you say the ‘right way,’ you mean by ignoring Mom?” “Yes. Exactly that,” I laughed, a huge grin pulling at my lips when I caught sight of a row of books with Rhion Park written on the spine. I tilted my head to the side and read every letter. I knew she didn’t sell them, so I’d never considered that she’d actually have physical copies. The one time I’d read over her shoulder while she was working, she’d lost her mind. Her eyes had become as wide as saucers and her face had turned redder than I’d thought the human skin was capable. Laughing, I’d attempted to snag her computer. I didn’t make it very far, because not a second later, she took my cock in her hand and told me that I was never, not even if Hell froze over, allowed to read her books. She then wrapped her warm mouth around me and issued the most incredible blowjob of my life, not allowing me to come until I’d confirmed that I understood. In that moment, I would have agreed to be waterboarded by the federal government, so of course I’d said yes. I grinned at the memory and fanned the pages of her book with my thumb. The damn thing was thick, and my woman had written every single word of it. Pride swelled in my chest. I’d gotten to know Rhion pretty well over the last few weeks, but I could only imagine the pieces of herself she’d left on those pages. My curiosity had been piqued. Surely, she couldn’t hold me to that silly promise I’d made on the verge of sexual insanity. I glanced up and found the door still closed. Then I traced my fingers over the words on the front. Burning Love was the title, and it had a simple but stunning design on the cover. It was the same fiery butterfly that graced her chest.

“So, how you been sleeping?” Val asked. “Good, actually,” I replied as I flipped the book open to a random page in the middle. I was vaguely aware that Val kept talking, but my attention was stolen by the sight of my name on the page. Not just once. Multiple times. And on the next page. And the next one. But it wasn’t until I saw her name on there too that the vile sense of unease slithered over my skin. I immediately pulled another of her books off the shelf. Different cover. Different title. Same. Fucking. Names. “Val, I need to go,” I said, wedging my phone between my shoulder and my ear as I went to work removing all of her books from the shelf. “Everything okay?” she asked. Judging by the sinking feeling in my gut? No fucking way. “Yeah. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you, and get some sleep.” “I love you too,” she whispered. After I’d ended the call, I sat on the floor and plucked a different one of Rhion’s books from the mountain of at least fifteen titles and opened it to the first page. It took approximately three sentences for her words to sear through me—bone-deep. She’d written about the fire. It didn’t feel like I was moving, but somehow, I knew I was falling. The world became a blur as terror faded into acceptance. I was going to die. But the further I read, the more I realized that it was no fire I’d ever been a part of. I frantically turned the page, unable to process the words so clearly printed in front of me. Until his strong hand landed on mine, snatching me back from the grips of death. “Hang on!” he barked, dragging me clear of the flames. It was the fictional version. Filled with beauty but not a single fact. My stomach churned, but I continued reading, unable to look away. “Oh God, are you real?” I cried, my body trembling in fear of the truth. His forehead crinkled. “I’m real,” he swore before sucking in a shaky breath. “I just don’t know if you are, Butterfly.” My throat closed and my lungs failed. “What the fuck?” I choked out as though the smoke were suffocating me all over again. My breath hitched as I raked my eyes over his muscular frame. The outline of his chiseled chest showed through the straining fabric of his plain, black T-shirt, while a pair of dark washed denim hugged his tapered waist. His dark-blond hair had been shaved and large, rectangular bandages covered the back of his head and his neck, but he was still gorgeous. I continued reading, bile clawing its way higher up my throat with every sentence. With a blast,

oxygen filled my aching lungs just seconds before someone dropped a lit match and ignited my entire body into a wildfire, destroying me from the inside out. “You’re real,” I whispered. His eyes flashed wide, but a sexy grin pulled at the corners of his full lips. “So are you, my beautiful Butterfly.” “Oh God,” I breathed, dropping the book to the ground.



Rolling over in bed, I stretched my arm out and found Jude’s side cool and empty. I pried my eyes open, and the room was still pitch-black. So I rolled back to check the clock on my nightstand, the stubby, red lines connecting to form 3:53. Shit. It was early. With sleepy eyes, I looked to the bathroom, but the light was off and the door was open. Jude’s bag was still in the corner across the room, so he hadn’t gone home. Not that I thought he would have without telling me, but it was one more place I could strike off my list of where he could be. “Jude,” I called as I crawled out of bed and headed to my bedroom door. Maybe he couldn’t sleep and went to watch TV? When I got to the hall, the only light came from my tattoo room. Smiling, I didn’t think much of it as I started toward the door, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and attempting to smooth my unruly morning hair down. “Honey,” I whispered, pushing the door open wide. My stomach dropped immediately. Jude was sitting in the middle of the floor, my books strewn haphazardly around him, pure and utter torture contorting his gorgeous face until he was almost unrecognizable. “What is this?” he whispered, motioning to the books. All at once, it felt like my chest was caving in and my heart was exploding, breaking into a million shards, ravaging me without ever escaping. I slapped both hands over my mouth and shook my head tightly, embarrassment flooding my system. “Jesus, Rhion. What the fuck is this bullshit?” he asked roughly. I recoiled but didn’t answer. As he pushed to his feet, I fought the desire to forcefully drag him from the room, board the door up, and never look back. I didn’t care that it was only those books that had helped me survive the first year after the fire. Nor did I care that it had taken me nearly four years and countless hours of thankless work to write them. I would have happily abandoned every last page if it could have erased the look of disgust from his face. “They’re…they’re nothing,” I stammered, backing away. Rage flared in his eyes as he stalked toward me. Through clenched teeth, he seethed, “Don’t you fucking dare start that nothing shit again. You don’t get to play that card. Not now. Not fucking ever again.” “You’re scaring me,” I admitted, throwing a hand up to stop him. “Good!” he boomed. “After the shit I just read, it’s time you realize I’m a goddamn man, not some fictional character you created in that perfect little la-la land you so obviously inhabit.” Okay. That hurt. A lot. Especially because it had come from him.

But, for those first few years after the fire, I couldn’t say he was wrong. I had been struggling, and yeah, losing myself in la-la land had been easier than facing the reality about my life. “It’s not what you think.” He threw his hands out to his sides and then let them slap his thighs as he dropped them. “Oh thank God, because for a minute there, I thought you had rewritten the night of the fire fifteen different ways. All starring me. All starring you. But not one thread of truth to be found. Yet, somehow, I end up fucking you in every goddamn one of them!” I blinked and began worrying my necklace. “Okay, so maybe it is what you think. But it’s not as bad as it looks.” “It is as bad as it looks! The night of the fire was a fucking nightmare! It changed my entire life. But, somehow, you’ve romanticized it into the night you met your soul mate, and here I am, standing in your fucking apartment, falling in love with you like it was a goddamn prophecy.” I winced but kept my chin held high. “You don’t have to be a dick about this. You could allow me to talk.” “Talk?” He scoffed. “Right. Since you’ve been so fucking good at that over the last six weeks. Maybe I should just ask Johnson and Leo about this since they seem to be the only ones who answer any of my fucking questions about you.” “That’s not fair! I’ve told you everything recently.” “Everything except the part about making up men who actually fucking saved you!” I took a giant step forward, stabbing a finger into his chest. “You saved me!” His gaze became pained, but his anger never subsided. “Stop fucking saying that! I’m not a goddamn hero. You fell, Rhion. Because of me. I was drinking and not thinking straight. It almost cost you your life.” “Almost,” I countered. “I’m not dead.” With a sweeping arm, he bent and scooped one of the books off the floor before sending it flying across the room. “I’m not like those men you wrote! Jesus Christ, Rhion. I didn’t jump on top of you when the house came down! I fell! Like a drunk fucking idiot. Three more steps and we would have been out of the way, and I fucking fell!” He picked another book up and sent it sailing. “Write that in your little fucking books!” I might have carried the majority of the scars of that night, but it was clear he was hurting—worse than I ever had. While the flames had long since been extinguished for me, they still burned hotter than ever inside his conscience, and it shattered me. I reached out for him only for him to deny the contact. “I wasn’t injured though,” I told him. “Because of you. The how doesn’t matter. It just mattered what happened,” I said evenly, unwilling to match his intensity. He laughed, but it held no humor. “Jesus Christ, Rhion. What actually happened was I gave you bad advice, I nearly got you killed, and…” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “And you write bullshit like smelling my cologne and having it soothe you? It was whiskey, sweetheart. Not fucking cologne. And we didn’t talk after the fire. There was no, ‘You’re real, Butterfly,’ because as I watched you screaming and writhing in pain, unable to form a coherent thought, I prayed to any and every fucking god in the universe that you weren’t!” I shrank back, but he kept talking. In paragraphs. Horrible, heartbreaking paragraphs. “And…that shit at the hospital, where I was all gorgeous, strutting in to see you? That never happened! I was laid up in a hospital bed with a broken leg, cops and attorneys swarming around me as they debated if I was going to be arrested or not. And, when I finally did try to see you, they wouldn’t

fucking let me! All I got was an eyeful of you pinned to a fucking cross as Peter Higgins’s bodyguards rolled me out in a wheelchair because I couldn’t even walk.” I flinched because my conscience blazed like a bonfire. Bile crept up my throat, choking me. “I’m sorry.” Intertwining his fingers, he rested them on the top of his head. “You’re sorry? You’re fucking sorry? For what, Rhion? Wishing I were a better man than I actually was? Then I’m fucking sorry too, because I have wished that every damn day for four years.” He stormed past me. My heart lurched, as I spun to follow him. “That’s not why I wrote those books! I wasn’t trying to make you a better man,” I informed his back. He didn’t reply as he marched into my room and began shoving his stuff into his bag. I snatched a shirt from his hand. “Stop and listen to me.” He let me have it and moved to his shoes lining the wall on his side of my bed. “I’m not interested in half a story tonight, Rhion, which is basically all you ever give me.” My chin jerked to the side and I gasped, “Are you calling me a liar?” He laughed, taking his pajama pants off before pulling a pair of jeans on, “Nope because that would require you to actually tell me things. You just flitter through your life, bullshitting anyone and everyone so they can’t get to know you. You kept this shit a secret for almost two goddamn months.” And that was when I exploded. Throwing his shirt at him, I shouted, “I did tell you! And you didn’t fucking remember!” He stopped the furious packing and snapped his head in my direction. “Friday night,” I whispered. “When you showed up at my apartment, I told you everything. How I’d spent four years wishing I could thank you. How I’d never stopped thinking about you. How I’d written books about that night because I hated the way everything happened after it. And then I kissed you, but not because I had some obsession with the characters I’d written in those pages, but because you were better.” He screwed his eyes shut. “Better. Right.” “Yes. Better! You told me you were sorry. Profusely. You held me as though you were trying to fuse our bodies together. You hugged me tighter than anyone in my entire life. And then we started talking, and yeah, I knew you were drunk, but you made me laugh and it didn’t hurt for the first time in years. You told how much you’d thought about me. How you wished you’d been able to save me. And, moreover, you seemed to really believe it when I told you that you had.” “I didn’t—” “You did! If you want to roll in your guilt about that night for the rest of your fucking life, I can’t stop you. We disagree on the night of the fire—wholeheartedly. But you cannot argue with me about what happened after that. The memories of you and those books were the only things that got me through the first year. You gave me hope that heroes were real, Jude. And, back then, when my days were so filled with pain both inside and out, I really needed something to believe in. Make fun of it. Call me crazy. Whatever. I honestly don’t give a damn. But it happened, Jude. That is not fiction. That is real life, and I won’t stand here and let you take that away from me. You. Saved. My life.” His face pinched together in agony as he whispered, “Do you even know why I call you Butterfly?” An ugly feeling sprouted in my stomach. I didn’t. It was just something I’d heard him yell the day he’d been removed from the hospital. And butterflies were beautiful. Weren’t they? He hooked his bag over his shoulder and opened his eyes. “Because, when you were up on that ledge, you looked like you were desperately trying to catch the wind before you died.” He pointed at the door— toward the tattoo room. “In…” His voice caught, and it felt deep inside me. “In your books, you wrote that

I called you ‘my beautiful Butterfly.’ But, Rhion, there was absolutely nothing beautiful about that moment. It was the most horrifically tragic thing I had ever witnessed.” He took a step toward me, sliding his arm around my waist and dropping his forehead to mine. “It’s not a compliment. And the only reason I call you that now is to remind myself that I’ll always be one blink away from losing you again. Tonight. Reading those books, knowing who you wish I were, and knowing I’ll never be that man, I blinked.” I swallowed hard as his words washed over me like a million tiny daggers gouging my heart out. “Jude, please,” I whispered, tears pricking the backs of my eyes. Reaching down, he caught my hand. Then he lifted it up to the back of his neck and then up under his hair to the thick scars on the back of his head. He groaned in pain as his face crumbled. “I’m not real, Rhion. Not as far as you’re concerned. Because that white knight you wrote so many fucking times. Does. Not. Exist.” A sob caught in my throat as I tried to jerk my fingers away, but he held them tight, rubbing them up and down the back of his skull. “Stop,” I begged, knowing that it had to be torturing him because it was destroying me. He refused to let me go and even forced me closer. “Stop it.” I shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge. And then, all at once, he released me. As I watched him walk out of my room, there wasn’t anything in the world I wouldn’t have given to be back in his arms.



She didn’t try to follow me as I stormed out of her door—out of her life. I’d been right the night I’d seen her at the bar. I had no right to be a part of her future. But, for almost two months, I’d tried. And, for two fucking months, I’d pretended like there wasn’t a burning house dividing us. We’d talked about the fire. Not in great detail. After all, we’d both been there that night, and neither one of us was eager to go back, not even in a conversation. Maybe that had been my first mistake: believing that the past could stay in the past. The woman I went to bed with each night wasn’t that broken butterfly I couldn’t escape. She was the woman who made forgetting possible. I’d lied to her when I’d told her that I only called her Butterfly as a reminder that I could lose her with a single blink. I called her Butterfly because she was mine. Her scars. Her pain. Her smiles. Her laughs. Her heart. Her body. I owned them all. And, for two fucking months, I’d wanted to keep it all. But, now, after having read those books, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to look her in the eye again. I was a good guy. A better bodyguard. I made her come harder than any man she could ever write, and from the way my heart felt like it was rotting out of my chest from having walked away from her, I would even go so far as to say that I loved her more too. But I couldn’t change the past. And she couldn’t stop rewriting it. I was waving my card in front of the sensor on the elevator, impatiently waiting for it to arrive, when I heard her door open. “And that’s it?” she asked. “You’re just going to leave because I wrote some books about you?” “They weren’t about me.” Glancing over my shoulder, I saw she was wearing a little, sleeveless nightgown, a book in her hand, and her feet were bare. I dropped my chin to my chest and waved my card a few more times. “Rhion, get back inside. It’s cold.” “I told the cops you smelled like alcohol, you know.” I sighed, wishing I had opted for the stairs before she’d had the chance to catch me. “Yeah. I know.” “And that you told me to go to the roof.”

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms, desperate to scrub the memory away. “I know that, too.” “And that doesn’t make you a little mad?” Her voice got closer until I could feel her warmth at my side. “No! Because it was true!” I boomed, turning to face her. She didn’t flinch as she stared up at me, emotionless. “You risked your life and I paid you back by throwing you under the bus? Come on, Jude. Even you, all consumed by regret, have to see how fucked up that was.” “No, Rhion. It never crossed my mind to be pissed at you. The cops asked you questions, you gave them answers.” “Yeah. You told me that on Friday night, but I still struggle to believe it.” She slapped the book against my chest. “Because I spent the last four years regretting things too. Every day, I wanted to thank you. Every day, I wanted to say I was sorry. Every fucking day, I wanted to change the fact that you saved my life and I fed you to the wolves. So I did. Read it again, Jude. And, if you never want to see me again, fine. But, just so you know, I didn’t make you a different man. I made me a different woman. In those pages, I wasn’t weak and terrified, crying and broken, barely surviving.” Her face turned hard. “In those books, I was a beautiful fucking butterfly, and I refuse to allow you to make me feel bad about that.” The book fell to the ground at my feet as she turned and walked back into her apartment. I blinked as the door quietly closed behind her. Jesus. Christ. Weren’t we a fucking pair? That one night had ruined both of us. We’d been living worlds apart but still sharing a common guilt. Mine was for what I had deemed failing her. Hers was for what she had deemed failing me. The only difference was she’d done something about fixing it—even if it was fiction. I’d spent a lot of sleepless nights rewriting the fire in my head. In my version, I’d scaled that house like Spiderman, carrying her to safety, burn-free. Sometimes, the house still fell, but we watched it from across the street, breathing clean, fresh air, her secure in my arms. I’d never been drinking. We’d never been injured. And I’d always saved the day. Minus the part where we fell in love and rode off into the sunset, my version wasn’t all that different than hers. But there was an integral difference between our two stories. When I’d mentally rewritten mine, I had known the truth. With as much shit as I’d given her over the last few weeks for not being forthcoming, I’d been holding a secret for over four years. And it ate me away. As silly as it sounded, I’d spent my whole life dreaming of becoming a cop. Swooping in to save the day. Making the world a safer place. But, much to my surprise, wearing a badge hadn’t made me a hero. Nor did putting a uniform on change the man who wore it. It was time she knew who I really was—even if it meant losing her. Snagging her book off the ground, I turned and headed to her door. I scanned my card and pushed it wide only to come to a screeching halt when I found her standing not three feet away, hope filling her eyes as she nervously chewed on her lips and toyed with her necklace. She’d been waiting. Knowing I couldn’t leave. Not like that. And I’ll be damned if that didn’t stir something inside me—and make me regret everything that much more. “I was leaving you,” I announced, the confession singeing the tip of my tongue. She smiled weakly and took a step toward me. “But you came back.”

“I’m not talking about tonight.” Emotion lodged the words in my throat. I gripped the back of my neck so hard that pain radiated down my back. “The night of the fire. The scars. I told the cops that, when you fell, it sent flames toward me and I turned away on instinct before rushing in after you. But it was a lie. I was leaving you. I didn’t run into the fire after you, Rhion. I was on fire and running away. You caught my ankle and I was struggling to pry your fingers off me, fighting you with every step, in order to escape the flames that had engulfed my back. I guess, in the process, I somehow managed to drag us both out.” I stopped talking and stared down at the floor, unwilling to meet her gaze. I couldn’t take seeing the revulsion that I was positive would be etched on her face. God knew it lived and breathed like a creature inside me on a daily basis. “I’ve never told anyone. And I’m so fucking sorry it took me so long for me to tell you.” “Okay,” she said. When her feet appeared in my line of sight, the book got pulled from my hand. “I’m going to say something. And I don’t think you’re going to like it, but I need to at least say it.” My stomach wrenched. I’d take anything she wanted to throw at me. Insults. Anger. Disdain. It would probably kill me coming from Rhion. But, if it made her feel the smallest fragment better, I’d take it. Using the back of my head, she pulled me down until her lips were at my ear and then whispered, “So. What.” My gaze jumped to her face, and I swear to God the woman was grinning. I blinked, but that fucking grin of hers never faltered. “So what?” I repeated in disbelief. “I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but how you saved me still doesn’t matter.” “The hell it doesn’t,” I rumbled, stepping away to gain some space. But that fucking crazy woman wrapped both arms around my waist and pressed against me, front to front. “It really doesn’t, honey.” “Bullshit!” I continued my retreat but got no closer to an escape. I could have physically gotten her off me at any time, but deep down, a part of me didn’t want her to let go. The last few weeks with her had been an awakening, and not just from the years after the fire. But in my entire life. Consuming me positively and negatively, physically and mentally. As though she could read my thoughts, she pushed up onto her toes and brushed her lips with mine, the contact doing wonders to alleviate the stress brewing within me. “I’m sorry, Jude,” she whispered. “I hate more than anything else that you’ve lived with that alone for last four years. But you’re wrong. You have told someone else about that. You told me our first night together. And it changed exactly nothing. I’ve still been pursuing you for almost two months, knowing the truth. Because”—she paused, and a small smile hitched her lips—“it. Doesn’t. Fucking. Matter.” My jaw slacked open as my eyebrows shot up. “No way I told you that.” “Oh, but you did.” Her smile widened. “You told me every gory detail about that night. Meanwhile, I was damn near delirious with happiness just to be in your arms.” “Oh God,” I groaned. “And I’m going to tell you the same thing I said to you right before you passed out. Fate’s a tricky beast. You made mistake after mistake that night, but no matter which way you spin it, you’re the only reason I’m standing here today.” The knife twisted in my gut, but her hands slipped under the back of my shirt, holding me tight. “That’s not fucking fate, Rhion. That’s a God’s honest miracle.” “Oh, even better. Divine intervention,” she smarted. Unable to take her touch anymore, I tore her arms away and then turned, pinning her against the wall. “That’s not what I meant!” Arching her back to keep our bodies connected, she kept talking. “You were the only man on the scene when that house came down. Drinking or not, if you hadn’t taken the call that night, I’d have still been on

that ledge when it fell. You got us far enough away so all that happened was you ended up with a broken leg. If you weren’t there, that would have been my skull. There is no way I would have survived that without you.” I leaned down until our faces were inches apart and snarled, “You don’t know that.” “Yeah, I do. And, you know it too. You’re a good man, with a good heart and a wicked conscience. But you’re smart. So you know I’m right.” I shook my head adamantly. “We live in two totally different worlds, Rhion.” “Maybe. But, in yours, you’re living in the dungeons of what you could have done differently had you been sober or more courageous. In my world, you saved me, you’re falling in love with me, and I’m refusing to let go. There comes a point where you have to stop beating yourself up for the mistakes you made and step into the reality of what actually happened. You don’t want to be a hero? Fine. I’ll never utter the word again. The verbiage doesn’t change the outcome though.” I wasn’t convinced, and the familiar pressure I’d been carrying for years inflated my chest all over again. “Those books…” “Are. Not. Real,” she implored, tucking my hair behind my ears. “I stopped writing about the two of us a year ago. I’m currently writing a book about Maleficent and Prince Philip. She’s terrible, but I’m making the reader believe he’s good. And he’s amazing, but I’m making the reader believe he’s bad before the big ending where it all comes to light.” She pressed her lips to mine. “You are not in there.” Kiss. “I am not in there.” Kiss. “There is no fire.” Deep and lingering kiss. “It’s just words.” I breathed a sigh of relief. At least there was that. Closing my eyes, I confessed. “I want this with you, ya know. So fucking bad. Not because of the bullshit and guilt over the fire. But because you’re incredible—off-the-charts nutty, but that’s perfect because I can be really fucking dry sometimes.” “Mercurial,” she corrected. My lips twitched as I opened my eyes. “That too.” The pressure in my chest slowly ebbed away as she stared up at me. “After I read some of those books, it was the first time since we got together that I felt like maybe I wasn’t the right man for you.” Her eyebrows painfully pinched together, but it was a joke that escaped her lips. “Don’t be silly. It’s all part of the prophecy.” I laughed, moving my arms around her hips. Hugging her tight against my chest, I rested my chin on the top of her head. “I hate that we have this shit between us.” “I don’t. No one in the entire world understands what it was like for me that night except you. I’ve never been ashamed of my scars, but our first night together, you traced over them and told me they were yours. You made me feel like they were something beautiful.” I dropped my lips to her shoulder. “They’re part of you, Rhion. They’ll always be beautiful.” Her smile spread wide across her face. “You want to go to bed and I’ll tell you everything we talked about that night?” “Oh, now, you want to talk,” I said sarcastically. “Sure, because now, I’m not mortified anymore. Though, if I ever uncover the recipe for that memory eraser, tonight will be the first thing that goes.” I turned serious again. “Butterfly, you could have told me. And I know that’s hypocritical considering the shit I’ve been harboring. But, just so you know, there is nothing you can’t tell me. I’m in this with you. So fucking deep.” She plastered her small frame against my front in unspoken understanding. We stood there, silently holding each other, years of hurt and anguish melting away from the undeniable heat between us. I hated everything we’d had to endure both separately and together to get to that moment, but maybe Rhion was right.

It wasn’t the how that mattered. We’d gotten there. And, as I guided her back to the bed, listened to her talk for over an hour, and then fell asleep with her nestled against my chest, I had every intention of staying—forever.



Time sped up over the next three weeks as Rhion tunneled herself deeper under my skin until I wasn’t sure where I ended and she began. Yes, I worked for her. So most of our days were spent tooling around town, doing whatever errands she wanted or needed to do. But I could count on one hand how many nights I’d slept in my own bed, and slowly but surely, my belongings had begun reproducing at her apartment. My bag still sat in the corner of the room, not yet having graduated to the closet or the dresser, but just as many of my things as hers cluttered the bathroom counter. Rhion’s place had started to feel like home. Actually, everything about Rhion felt like home. The best thing that happened to us was my finding those books. It had springboarded our relationship to a level I hadn’t been sure we’d ever reach with the secrets of our past weighing us down. Rather than avoiding conversation about the fire any longer, we talked about it. A lot. We’d even taken a trip out to Park Hill Estate a few days after things had settled down again. She hadn’t been there since the fire, and just as I had the first time I’d visited, she’d struggled. While the house had been cleared away and never rebuilt, it still held more than enough memories to transport us back to that night. During the hours we sat there staring at the empty lot, she told me all about waking up in that burning house. Just her. Alone. Terrified with no way out. It was all I could do to listen to her without it shredding me. But, after I’d heard her talk, I felt like maybe my being there that night had done wonders for Rhion’s fight for survival. I still refused to take credit for saving her, but at least she hadn’t been alone. And, if I had anything to say about it, she never would be again. Over the last few weeks, I’d had the absolute honor of watching Rhion Park fall. Again. But, this time, she was falling for me. My Butterfly was beautiful. Still a little broken. Still a little scared. But weren’t we all? Just because the truth had come out didn’t mean my guilt from that night had magically evaporated. I still dealt with it each time I felt the scars on the back of my head, but it no longer burned when she touched them. And I was starting to believe that maybe I’d been right that drunken night in her apartment, because every day that passed, Rhion was healing me in unfathomable ways. While there had yet to be any professions of love on either side, it was an absolute fact we both knew. Love blazed in her eyes every morning when she woke up molded around me. And it blazed in my chest every minute of every day. It was now the week before Thanksgiving, and I was sitting on her couch, drinking a beer with Leo, Devon, Braydon, Alex, and, yes, Johnson at the unofficial-official Guardian Thanksgiving Feast. We were attempting to watch the football game while the mouthwatering fragrance of turkey cooking wafted through the air, but every ten seconds, Rhion would nervously flitter by, blocking our view. A company had been by early that morning to deliver giant tables and what had to be at least twodozen chairs. I’d had no idea where the hell all of it was going to fit. Rhion’s apartment was big, but I’d

had to climb over the back of the couch in order to get a cup of coffee while they had been setting up. When I’d attempted to voice my concern, she’d banished me to her room to get showered and dressed. Sure enough, half an hour later, I’d emerged to find a horseshoe of tables covered in tablecloths, lavish orange-and-brown-feather centerpieces, and enough place settings—including real silver—to seat the entire crew of Guardian Protection. It wasn’t until then that I’d realized overkill was a synonym for fullassing Thanksgiving. “You gotta stop pacing, babe,” I called out as all the guys leaned to the side to keep watching the game around her. “You’re making me anxious.” She stopped, crossing her arms over her chest, and glared at me. “Then perhaps you should get up and pace too, babe.” I chuckled and tipped the beer up to my lips. She’d been a mess all day. The chefs had been late, and when they’d gotten there, they’d brought the wrong size turkeys. This had resulted in Rhion shooting laser beams from her eyes and shrieking in a voice that was so high-pitched that it wasn’t even audible to the human ear. Just when I thought her head was going to explode, I wrapped her in my arms and got on the phone to order a ham. She was grateful and hugged me tight around the hips just seconds before ordering me to call back and get two. Through all of this, I sent up thanks that Leo’s wife, Sarah, was responsible for the Christmas party. My girl did not take entertaining lightly. “Rhion, you gotta move or I’m going upstairs to watch the game,” Johnson said. “I’ve missed every first down since I got here.” Her glare sliced to him. “Aidan, you take one step toward that door and you’re out of this year’s secret Santa drawing.” Devon suddenly pushed to his feet. “Shit, that’s all I gotta do to get out of that?” Rhion’s expression turned murderous, and she used an extremely scary finger to motion for him to sit down. He wisely obeyed. “Okay,” I said, standing up and guiding her out of the way of the TV. “Can we have a word in private?” “No. She should be here any minute. I want to be the one to greet her when she arrives.” Ah, yes. Yet another reason Rhion was in a tailspin. The infamous stepsister was coming. I’d learned a lot about Katie Spencer, but I was no closer to figuring out how I felt about her. Rhion loved her—and hated her depending on the day of the week you asked. But, even when she was complaining about Katie, it had a sibling-rivalry feel to it. However, after a long talk with Johnson, I’d found out that he was not Katie’s biggest fan. He’d informed me that the only time she appeared in Rhion’s life was when it benefited Katie. That shit was not going to fly with me. So, when Rhion had told me this morning that Katie was coming, I’d had to admit that a part of me was eager to finally meet her. “Johnson can greet her,” I mocked. “You need a breather. You’re gonna give yourself high blood pressure if you keep this up.” “Ooooh, no. I’m going to be the one to greet Katie. She’s avoided my calls for months. And then I get a text saying she’s coming over today.” She laughed. “I don’t think so. And, just so there is no confusion, she will also not be allowed to participate in the secret Santa drawing.” “Lucky chick,” Devon grumbled. Rhion flipped him off without ever tearing her gaze from mine. “Maybe she’s coming to apologize. I thought you loved her.” “I do love Katie! But she gave her mother, the real-world equivalent of Voldemort, my address and security card! She does not get to apologize on a day when my family gets together to give thanks for another year of life. The day I look forward to all year. I spent five hours hand-rolling three-dozen

biscuits last night. You avoid me for months, you don’t get my delicious, baked-with-love biscuits.” They really were good fucking biscuits. But she only had two dozen and ten left; I’d snagged a pair off the baking sheet while she’d been folding linen napkins. I didn’t dare mention that. “Okay. So tell the security room not to buzz her up. You won’t have to see her. I’ll pour you a glass of wine and you can stop stressing.” “Pssh. Yeah, right. And miss my opportunity to tell her off in person? No, thank you. Katie and I are going to chat. It may or may not end with her sitting at the dinner table, but no matter what, you make sure she does not get a biscuit.” I gave her a teasing side-eye and asked, “No biscuits? On Thanksgiving? My girl’s a true savage.” She cuddled in close. “You don’t know the half of it. I’m also going to rig it so Devon gets Alex for a secret Santa this year. Alex always gives socks.” I laughed and dipped low to press a kiss to her mouth. “You’re crazy, Butterfly.” “You like it,” she murmured against my lips I didn’t. Not anymore. I loved it. So. Fucking. Much. “Get a room!” Lark called, walking through the door with a pair of identical redheaded little girls in tow. “Rhion!” they both squealed in unison and took off at a sprint before careening into her legs. Rhion’s entire face split into a megawatt grin as she squatted and hooked them into a group bear hug. “Hey, sweets.” “Daddy say you killed da turkey with you bare hands,” one of the girls said. The other added, “After you wrestled it to da ground.” I arched an eyebrow at Lark, but he was too busy beaming with pride at his baby girls to notice. “Did he now?” Rhion twisted her lips and tipped her head back to scowl at him. He feigned innocence. “What? Braydon told me you were working at a slaughterhouse.” Everyone laughed, including Rhion, who stood up and looped an arm around my waist and announced, “Mum’s the word.” And then her body locked up tight as a woman’s voice came from the front door. “Knock. Knock,” Katie said, timidly peeking her head inside. Considering she graced nearly half of the picture frames in Rhion’s apartment, I immediately recognized her. She was cute, albeit a little mousy for my taste, but it didn’t escape me the way Devon and Alex suddenly straightened in their seats when she walked in. Rhion strolled to the door. “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.” Katie lifted her hands in surrender and flashed her gaze around the room. “I come in peace.” Johnson grumbled something under his breath and went back to watching the game, though I could tell he was paying studious attention to Rhion and Katie out of the corners of his eyes. I followed his lead and walked to the makeshift bar Rhion had set up to keep us out of the kitchen while the chefs did their thing. “Long time no see,” Rhion said as I twisted the top off a beer. “I brought you a surprise,” Katie announced. My body went stiff as I cut my gaze to Johnson and found him rising to his feet. “What kind of surprise?” he asked. Doing my best to keep it casual, I eased back to Rhion’s side and draped an arm around her shoulders. “Yes. I’d love to hear more about this surprise. Hi. I’m Jude.” Katie’s gaze jumped to me, her eyes drifting to my arm, confusion and shock registering in her dull, brown eyes “It…it’s a peace offering,” she stammered. Rhion’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she said, “You gave your mother my address and then dodged me for two months. It better be a Saint Bernard puppy I can name Mozart if you expect to be forgiven.” The entire room went on alert when a second woman’s voice came from the front door. “The dog’s

name is Beethoven. Not Mozart.” “Oh my God!” Rhion shrieked. Johnson boomed, “What the fuck?” Devon cursed, “Holy hell.” “No fucking way,” Alex whispered. “Yesss,” Braydon hissed. Katie smiled—a huge, toothy, white grin, which made her look far more attractive than I’d originally thought. But, as I saw the woman standing behind her, I realized not a single person in the room was looking at Katie. The woman was unbelievably gorgeous. Tall. Thin. Shiny, black hair draped over her shoulders and down the front of her painted-on black dress. Her heels were so tall that she was closer to my height than any woman I’d ever met. I recognized her immediately. Though I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why she was standing in Rhion’s apartment. Lark moved to my side and whispered, “Is that Brianna Talbot?” “Looks like it,” I replied, equally shocked. “As in…former lingerie model turned lingerie designer, Brianna fucking Talbot?” he elaborated. “I…” I started but trailed off. It was. No question about it, but I’d never been so confused as I watched Rhion pull her in for an exuberant hug. “What are you doing here?” Rhion exclaimed. “I hear you’ve got a man. As your best friend, it’s my job to meet him and see if he’s worthy of my stamp of approval.” Rhion playfully slapped her arm before turning to face me. “Jude. Meet Brianna. Brianna. Meet Jude.” “Nice to meet you,” I said, prowling toward them, extending a hand, which she took in a limp, feminine shake. “Oh, he’s prettier than the pictures,” Brianna whispered to Rhion. She giggled. “I told you.” I blinked. “Pictures?” What in the actual fuck was happening? Leo was grinning as he headed toward the door. “Brianna,” he greeted, pulling her into a professional yet friendly hug. “I didn’t know you were coming. I’d have sent one of the guys to pick you up from the airport.” Her deep-brown eyes lit as she aimed them down at Rhion and winked. “But then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.” Just then, Sarah came rushing through the door. “Sorry, sorry. I’m late. I burnt the mac and cheese, so I had to start over. It’s cooking upstairs. I’ll need—” She suddenly froze. “Brianna?” “Surprise!” she said with a blinding, big-screen-worthy smile. “What the…” Sarah squealed, dropping her bags to the ground and rushing over to pull her into a hug. I scanned the room around us. Johnson was blinking rapidly, Alex’s mouth was hanging open, Devon was finger-combing his hair, and Braydon was wearing a shit-eating grin. Hooking my arm around Rhion, I tugged her off-balance until she crashed into my chest. With a giddy smile, she snuggled against me, muttering, “This is the best surprise ever.” “Surprise is right,” I rumbled into the top of her hair. “Your best friend is Brianna Talbot?” Rhion tipped her head back and eyed me curiously. “Is that a problem?” “Damn straight, I’m her best friend! She can’t live without me!” the willowy woman exclaimed, releasing Sarah as Katie shut the door behind them.

Rhion giggled and shot her a smile. Brianna returned the wide grin and capped it off with a wink. Hand to God I heard Devon moan. I ground my teeth together. “Right. You going to explain why, in the approximately four thousand conversations we’ve had about her, you didn’t think to mention her last name?” Her head snapped back, a sudden attitude sifting through her features. “You didn’t ask.” “That’s because, in your file, it says her name is Brianna Turner, thirty-four-year-old, housewife, mother of two, that you met online in a readers’ group.” “Funny, I was unaware you were dating my file,” she smarted. I looked up and found Johnson watching us, his expression equally as puzzled as I felt. “Thirty-four?” Brianna questioned, clearly appalled. She turned her wrath on Leo and repeated, “Thirty-four?” He chuckled. “I’ll change it to twenty-one if you’d like. Seems like a wasted effort now that you’re here. Cat’s out of the bag.” Brianna smirked. “You still sign their paychecks though, right?” “That I do.” “What the hell is going on?” Johnson joined the conversation, his outrage only slightly more palpable than mine. “Brianna is a client,” Leo replied. “She likes to keep things…well, private.” “Like me!” Rhion chirped, looking up to bat her lashes at me. “What the fuck, Leo? Why didn’t I know about this? Christ, I scoped Brianna Turner’s house when she and Rhion first started talking. I pulled the woman’s bank records, for fuck’s sake,” Johnson grumbled. “Oh my,” Brianna breathed, clutching her chest. “That’s hot.” Her eyes leveled on Johnson, a sultry smile pulling at her lips. Leo shrugged nonchalantly, moving to the bar. “It was none of your business, Johnson.” “None of my business?” he seethed. Alex inched toward him in preparation of the pending explosion. “I own a quarter of the company!” Johnson shouted. “Yeah, well. Brianna is my client,” Leo replied, searching through the beers, inspecting the labels on each one. “Mine. Not Guardian’s. You did not need to know anything about her. I kept it that way.” Johnson’s expression turned thunderous. “She’s Rhion’s best friend! How the fuck did you figure I didn’t need to know this?” When Leo finally looked up, his body language was calm, but his scary expression told the real story. “I was the one who introduced them. I wouldn’t have put either one of them in danger, so chill the fuck out. You want to discuss business? You do it in private. But this conversation is done. You got it?” Johnson planted his hands on his hips and glared at his boss. The entire room swung their heads back and forth between the two men—except for Brianna, who never tore her gaze off Johnson. “Yeah. I got it,” Johnson finally said, relenting. But I absolutely did not. Just when I’d thought everything was out in the open between me and Rhion, shit like this came up. I was starting to wonder if I’d ever get the full Rhion Park story or if all I would ever get was the pile of pieces she wanted to show me, keeping the rest locked away so fucking tight that I might not ever get them all. “Well…okay, then,” Rhion drawled. “Who wants a drink?” “Me!” Brianna exclaimed. “Me,” Sarah chimed in behind her. “I could use a drink,” Katie said softly. Rhion pointed a finger at her stepsister. “You did good bringing her here. But this does not get you off

the hook.” “I know.” Katie’s shoulders fell, genuine remorse painting her face. I narrowed my eyes on her as she continued to apologize. “And I’m so sorry, Rhion. I swear it was an accident. She overheard me talking to Sandy about coming to visit you. I couldn’t remember your address. I’d only been here twice and—” “We’ll talk later,” Rhion interrupted. “Let’s focus on one thing at a time. First, how you got this thirtyfour-year-old to put down her work long enough to come see me.” She hooked an arm around Katie’s neck. “I mean, for real. Thirty-four?” Brianna complained. “I’ve programmed my biological clock to stop ticking at twenty nine.” “Six more months, then,” Rhion laughed. “Don’t remind me.” “Hey! Have you read Bait yet?” Rhion asked. “Since we’re all here, we could totally do the book club meeting in person this month.” Every man in the room tracked Brianna as she moved toward Rhion with the grace of a dream. “I did! I finished it on the plane. Casey Moore was so damn hot.” They both smiled and then exclaimed in unison, “That hair!” Chaos broke out as the four women started laughing and talking in some kind of code that I was positive no person with a dick would ever be able to decipher. Something about cliffs, triangles, and HEA. None of us dared to interrupt them. Well, none of us with a brain between our ears and not just the one between our legs. “Ladies, ladies. How about I make a pitcher of margaritas?” Braydon said, sauntering over. Lark laughed and bumped me with his shoulder. “This should be fun. Twenty bucks he bags her.” “Twenty bucks she amputates his cock,” Leo said, moving to my other side. “Twenty bucks I cock-block him and bag her myself,” Devon piped up, joining the conversation. But, through it all, the vise in my stomach twisted tighter. She’d never told me about Brianna. Though she was right—I hadn’t asked. But I hadn’t known that I’d needed to. For fuck’s sake, you’d think, after having spent every day with her for months, shit like that would have come up. Unless she was purposely keeping it from me. An idea that pissed me off as much as it gutted me. Everything was out in the open between us. No more secrets. No more fiction. Only truths. Or so I’d thought. But, as I watched her throw her head back in laughter, Brianna Talbot doing the same, it was obvious I was wrong. Braydon cleared his throat to interrupt them and extended a hand toward Brianna. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Braydon Hughes.” She grinned but didn’t take his hand. “Oh, aren’t you cute,” she said in a patronizing tone before tapping him on the nose like a child. “Sorry, sweetie. I’m here for Devon.” Devon went rock solid beside me as her amber-colored gaze flashed across the room. An epic smile pulled at his lips until she finished with, “And Johnson.” I couldn’t stop the chuckle as both of the men’s backs shot ramrod straight and they looked at each other. “Nope. Nope. Nope,” Rhion said, walking in her direction. “Keep it in your pants, Talbot.” She rested a manicured hand over her heart. “Who, me?” “Yes, you. Now, let’s go hang out on the beach while the boys watch the rest of the game.” “Am I forgiven?” Katie squeaked. “Nope,” Rhion replied, heading down the hall. “But Bri is way better at doling out the guilt than I am. You screwed up by bringing her here.”

“Shit,” Katie grumbled as the four women disappeared into the ocean room. When the door clicked behind them, a round of rumbled curses filled the room. “Rock-paper-scissors!” Devon announced, heading toward Johnson. “Best two out of three. Winner takes all.” “All being Brianna Talbot?” Johnson asked. “Fuck you. Every man for himself.” Everyone laughed—except me. I stared at the door, a sick sense of dread turning my stomach. It must have shown on my face, because a second later, Leo cupped me on the shoulder. “She wasn’t allowed to tell you.” “Bullshit,” I mumbled, not looking in his direction. “I’m serious. Do not read into this. Brianna made her sign an NDA the first—and only—time they met two years ago. Katie and Sarah signed one after Rhion convinced Brianna to start a damn virtual book club with them. If you think Rhion has a past full of secrets, you should see Brianna’s laundry list. I’m not even allowed to acknowledge that she’s a client. I only introduced her and Rhion because they were both such loners. They made it work because they needed someone who didn’t ask questions.” I turned and looked at him. “See, that’s exactly my problem. I want answers. You forget I’m not just working for Rhion. I’m planning a life with her, but it still feels like I’m putting a fucking puzzle together in the dark.” “Son, women in general are a puzzle. Not just Rhion. I’ve been with Sarah for over six years now, and every day, I get a new piece of who she really is. She told me yesterday that green olives are her favorite food. I’ve never seen the woman eat a damn olive in her life. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t get pissed at me for not knowing. I get it. Rhion’s complex. But nothing you have with a woman like that is ever going to be easy. You want easy, you get a Playboy subscription. They don’t talk back. “Now, I’m not sure what you had with your ex-wife, but considering she’s your ex, I’m going to assume it wasn’t much. But newsflash: Women make you fucking work for everything. You want answers? Ask the fucking questions. And, if I know Rhion, the payoff for your time will be more than worth the effort.” I scoffed. Of course Rhion would be worth it. But I hated that, while we talked constantly, it felt like she never actually said anything. “Well, look at you. Security extraordinaire and Dr. fucking Phil.” He patted my back hard as hell. “You’re a smart man, Levitt. You’ll figure it out. Besides, everyone knows that the best part of a puzzle isn’t the final product. The real thrill is finding the pieces that match.” He winked. “Sage advice,” I said dryly. One side of his mouth lifted in a grin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go defuse a bomb.” He jerked his chin to Johnson, who was fuming in the corner. Clapping his hands, he called out, “All right, boys. I need a hockey ticket, a tube of toothpaste, a paper clip, and a pair of toenail clippers. McGuyver is going to work.” Johnson glared. Leo chuckled. I went back to staring at the door to the ocean room.



Thanksgiving went off without a hitch. Or maybe I was too tipsy to worry about any possible hitches after drinking wine and laughing with my girls. But, minus two biscuits, which had mysteriously gone missing, we’d had plenty of food and better company. After a few beers, Leo even agreed to give me back my official Thanksgiving host title. I felt like it should have come with some kind of medal or plaque, but Leo told me not to hold my breath. “Do you still have a voice?” Jude asked as I emerged from the shower in a towel at around one in the morning. Sitting upright against a stack of pillows behind him, he lounged on my bed, the TV remote in his hand while ESPN played without sound in the background. Jude shirtless was a sight I’d never get tired of. “Ha. Ha,” I deadpanned. “Yes. Bri and I talk a lot on the phone. My voice has been thoroughly trained over the years.” I went straight to his overnight bag and hooked my fingers on the hanger holding his pressed shirt, which was still in the dry-cleaning plastic. After carrying it to the closet, I hung it on the doorknob so it wouldn’t wrinkle. “Did you get her settled in the ocean room?” he asked, his face taking on a pensive expression. “Yeah. She passed out mid-conversation.” I started digging through my dresser. “Good,” Jude murmured, pointedly looking to the clothes in my hand with a dark gaze. “You can lose those, then.” My body immediately responded, a roar of heat spreading between my legs and a cool chill sliding over my breasts, peaking my nipples. I dropped the offending garments back in the drawers. Silently, he threw the covers on my side of the bed back in invitation. My side of the bed. It suggested that Jude had a side in my bed. A shy grin pulled at the corners of my lips as I padded over, shedding my towel at the last second to crawl in beside him. “What’s that smile for?” he asked, flipping the TV off and discarding the remote to his nightstand with a clatter. His nightstand. “You stay here a lot.” He cocked his head to the side. “You need some space?” I slid my hand across his chest as I settled my head on his shoulder. “No. Not at all. It’s just you stay here a lot.” He rolled so I was on my back, and then he propped his weight onto an elbow on the pillow. His thumb brushed my cheek as he swiped my damp hair away from my face. “You already said that. Tell me what you’re thinking, baby.” Move in with me.

That’s what I wanted to say. However, what actually came from my mouth was, “I have two closets. I could clear one out for you. Ya know, if you wanted to leave some stuff here.” His eyebrows popped up. “I do leave stuff here.” “Yeah, but this way, they could actually have a place that’s not in the middle of the floor.” “So I’ll shove them in the closet, but you don’t have to clear one out for me. I have a closet at my place. I don’t have enough shit to warrant having two.” I stared up at the ceiling to avoid his gaze. “But what if you didn’t have your place anymore? It would save—” I didn’t get another word out because his lips landed on mine. It was a short peck that I presumed was intended to take the sting out when he said, “I’m not moving in, Rhion.” Blunt. And straight to the point. Pure Jude. It still sucked. A lot. “Right. Of course not. Forget I said anything,” I whispered, embarrassment pinking my cheeks. “Not doing that, either. You put it on the table, and I fucking love that you want that, but the timing isn’t right.” “Seriously, I get it. No big deal.” I started to roll away, but he shifted his body on top of mine to pin me to the mattress. “You are quite possibly the most complex person I have ever met,” he stated. Keeping up my halfhearted fight to get out from under him, I faked a laugh and shimmied to the side. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” He followed me with his upper body, making my efforts to escape futile. “Nope. Just a statement of fact. Every time I think I have you figured out, a new layer is revealed, taking me right back to square one.” My frustration grew, because while he was using a gentle voice, not a single word of what he was saying sounded good. “What are you talking about?” I asked, bucking beneath him, trying to break free. “Is this because I didn’t tell you about Brianna?” He didn’t budge, but his lips kept going. “I know you like shoes, reading, and cooking.” Suddenly, he caught the corner of the blanket and yanked it out from between us. His thick cock landed against my thigh as our naked bodies pressed together. I gasped in anticipation, but he kept talking. “I know you like fancy beer and the occasional glass of wine. You don’t look at the price tags while shopping for clothes, but you’ll balk at the price of boneless chicken breasts at the grocery store. You claim to like watching movies, but you spend most of it staring up at me.” I eagerly opened my legs, and his swollen crown slid deliciously against my clit as his hips fell through. My mouth gaped open as I arched off the bed. “Yes,” I hissed, folding my arms around his shoulders to pull him closer. His tongue touched just below my collarbone, sweeping out for a taste before his voice transformed into a deep, rasping whisper. “You like to be on top, but you come harder when I’m fucking you. You could kiss for days and never get tired of it. You whisper my name when you sleep. And, every single time I do something nice, you breathe that I’m real. And, Butterfly, it’s been months. I’ve touched every inch of your body with every inch of mine, yet I still feel like I have to beg, barter, and steal to get any kind of real information about you.” “So it is about Brianna?” I huffed. “This is about me not knowing you,” he replied at the same time the tip of his length pressed inside me, stealing the breath from my lungs—right along with my desire to have any further discussion.

That is until he stopped. Completely. Only the tiniest inch of him was nestled inside me as my body ached to be filled. “Jude, please,” I begged, writhing beneath him. He dipped his head to the side and nipped at my ear. “Found your birth control tonight while I was digging for floss in the bathroom.” “And?” I drawled, rolling my hips in a failed attempt to take him deeper. “And I realize I’ve gone through enough condoms over the last few weeks to justify buying stock, but, baby, I am not thrilled about a rubber being between us.” Nipping at his lips, I squirmed, opening my legs wider. “Okay. Maybe we should remedy this now, then?” Somehow, he magically managed to stay just out of my reach. “How long you been on the pill?” “Jude, come on. I want to feel you.” He roughly raked his teeth over my shoulder. “How long?” “Six weeks.” He froze. “And I’m finding out now?” “Jude,” I objected as he suddenly pushed off of me. Flipping to his back, he let out a curse. “Jesus Christ.” I slung my leg over his hips, but with a hand at my thigh, he prevented me from climbing on top. I glared at him. “You’re pissed that I’m on birth control?” “I’m pissed that I’m just finding out about it,” he clipped. “For fuck’s sake, Rhion, I feel like I don’t know dick about you. Sure. Over the last few weeks, I’ve learned things. But I’m far from knowing you, and I’m starting to feel like you are never going to let me in.” “What are you talking about? Of course you know me,” I argued. “No. I know the pieces you’ve given me. Beautiful pieces. Pieces I fucking love. But, if you want to take this relationship to the next level, I need more than that.” My heart stopped and my nose started stinging as I squeaked. “Pieces you love?” Had he not just halfway told me that he loved me, I would have laughed at the sight of tough guy Jude Levitt rolling his eyes. But, because he had just halfway told me that he loved me, I couldn’t focus on his impression of a sullen teenager. He cupped the back of my neck and pulled me down to kiss my forehead. “You know I love you, but you gotta let me in.” Twisting my lips, I leaned away and frowned. “That has got to be the worst ‘I love you’ in the history of romance.” His eyebrows popped up. “This isn’t romance, Rhion. This is real life.” “The two things are not mutually exclusive. Take it back and I’ll give you a do-over later.” “I’m not taking shit back. I love you.” “No, you don’t.” “Yeah, I fucking do.” “Well, I don’t accept. You weren’t even smiling.” All at once, he knifed up off the bed. His upper body crushed me as he landed on top of me. He dipped low so his face was close with mine. “Love rarely makes a man smile. Especially if said man is me and he has to deal with a crazy woman like you. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t burn the world down for you. Extinguish an entire species. And then place their ashes at your feet if it meant you’d smile. But I probably won’t be grinning while I do it.” Oh. My. God. He’d said that.

To me. “Jude,” I breathed, tears pricking the backs of my eyes. “That was much better, by the way.” “I’m glad you approve. But, regardless of how I say it, you know I love you. But swear to God, baby, I’m losing my mind trying to figure you out.” I sniffled to keep the tears from spilling over. “What do you want to know?” He tucked my hair behind my ear, allowing his fingers to linger at my cheek as he stared deep into my eyes and whispered, “Everything. But, more than that, I want you to give it to me because you trust me. I could ask you all the questions in the world, but it’s what you choose to give me on your own that I want the most.” It wasn’t like I was hiding stuff from him. It’s just that we’d only been together for a few months. While I wasn’t sleeping with Johnson or Brianna, I’d been friends with them for years and was still learning new things every day. “I’m twenty-six,” I announced. “Know that, Butterfly.” “Okay, well. It’s impossible for me to share twenty-six years’ worth of experiences with you in one night. Or even a few months. And, besides, not everything is meant to be heard. Some things are meant to be experienced. Like when I finally get to show you and Val my beach house in LA, where I used to make sand castles with my mom before she died.” His face softened. “Right. I get that. But you’ve never even told me how she died. Or how that affected you.” I screwed my eyes shut as my throat became thick with emotion. “You have my file.” He placed an encouraging kiss to my lips. “Fuck your file, Rhion. I learned my lesson about trusting that thing when Brianna Talbot walked into your apartment.” Shifting beside me, he threaded his hand into my hair and stroked my temple with his thumb. “Tell me.” “She fell off the balcony of my dad’s New York apartment,” I rushed out. “We think it was an accident. But I guess we’ll never know.” I might have been a kid when it’d happened, but the pain of losing her was still as prominent as ever. Death, at six, was a very abstract idea. I distinctly remember the day of her funeral. My father had told me that morning that we were going to say goodbye to my mother. So I sat in my distraught father’s lap and stared at the doors to the church, waiting for her to show up. I was heartbroken as we drove away, because in my naivety, she hadn’t shown and I’d never gotten to say goodbye. “And…” he prompted. “And…you know the rest.” “Please,” he whispered. Swallowing hard, I relented. “She’d taken a lot of pills. Chased them with martinis. Dad and I were at ballet practice. Apollo was there when it happened. He was only four though. I’ll never forget the sound of my father yelling when the police came into the dance studio to tell him. I quit ballet the next day and never went back.” I hadn’t realized that the tears had escaped before I felt the moisture sliding down my face. “Was she a good mom?” he asked, wiping them away. I bit my lip. “Not really.” I reached up and moved her diamond back and forth across the chain. “If you want the truth, she was a lot like Margaret. Selfish. Greedy. Narcissistic.” I laughed. “Dad had terrible taste in women. But she was the only mom I had.” “Is that why you put up with Margaret’s shit? She reminds you of your mom?” I shrugged. “A little, I guess. But, mainly, I do it for Katie.” He arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s another one I’ve got a lot of questions about.” I offered him a weak smile. “I see you’ve been talking to Johnson. He started working for Dad right

about the time he and Margaret were getting a divorce. Johnson never got to know Katie when she wasn’t the enemy. But she’s not as bad as he makes her out to be.” “How about you tell me who I should make her out to be, then? I know you love her. And I know she annoys the shit out of you. But that’s about it.” I absently watched my finger trailing through the thin layer of hair covering his chest, trying to figure out the best way to explain the mythical creature known as Katie Spencer. “Katie is like a sweet, little lamb who was raised by a school of piranhas. She had to learn to fall in line or she became dinner. I’m not going to tell you she’s perfect. But she’s not evil, either. I’ve learned that people are all about perspective. When you first meet someone, your mind immediately makes a judgment call on whether they are a good person or not. Friend or foe. Hero or heel. But people have a million different layers. No one is all good. Or all bad. Not even Margaret. And especially not Katie.” “See, Butterfly. That is exactly what I’m talking about. You just said a bunch of flowery words, but not a single one of them gave me any concrete information.” I sighed. “Katie’s that friend who will borrow your most expensive pair of shoes without asking, but she’ll always return them.” He smirked. “I didn’t take you for a woman who would loan out your precious shoes.” I laughed and glided my finger up the back of his neck and over his scars. Quickly, I trailed them back down when a soft gasp escaped his lips. “I’m not. But, for Katie, I’ll make an exception. She lived with me for fourteen months after the fire while I was recovering. I couldn’t even wipe myself when I went to the bathroom at first, but Katie did everything for me.” His eyebrows drew together, and it made me laugh. “Trust me. No one was more shocked than I was when I came home from the hospital to find her bags in my guest room. Pete hired me a nurse and left after two weeks. Sandy after three. But Katie? I could barely get rid of her.” “Did you pay her?” he asked skeptically. “No. And she never asked for a single penny. After the fact, when I finally got up and going, I allowed her to move into one of the apartments Dad left me so she didn’t have to go back to living with her mom.” “Wow,” he breathed. “I had no idea.” “Don’t get me wrong. She definitely has her flaws. But, at the end of the day, we’re both alone in the world. Her mom is extremely difficult, and she has to put up with a lot from Margaret. Katie’s like me: She just wants someone to love. A family to call her own. We don’t have a ton in common, so we don’t hang out much these days. But, if I reach out to her, she’s always there. No matter what.” “Except for the last two months,” he teased. “Except for the last two months,” I confirmed. “But, in her defense, I can hold a mean grudge. It was probably best for her to lay low until I had a chance to cool off.” “You hold a mean grudge?” he asked, clearly unconvinced. I nodded. “Currently, I’m mad at you for at least twelve different things. Including, but not limited to, not asking me to have unprotected sex with you or for my best friend’s last name. You know, Jude, I’m not the only one who needs to learn to open up. You don’t want to wear a condom? Tell me. How the hell was I supposed to know you were ready for that? I went on birth control because I was ready. And I figured you’d say something when you were ready. And you want to know about my best friend? Ask me. I signed an NDA like a freaking secret squirrel when I first met Brianna, but everyone knows that your man is an exception.” He smiled impossibly wide. “Ah, yes. The little-known boyfriend loophole.” “And, in case you’re wondering, I will never ask you to extinguish an entire species for me. But I love you too. A lot.”

His smile fell and his body softened as he shoved his face in my neck and dragged me into a hug, but I didn’t allow the heated affection to slow me down. If Jude wanted me to let him in, I would—completely. “And, since you already know I’m crazy, I guess I don’t have to hide the fact that I think I fell in love with you while I was still standing on that ledge.” He inhaled deeply and whispered a pained, “Butterfly.” “Please don’t ask me to pretend I didn’t,” I pleaded. His fingers bit into the back of my shoulder as he squeezed me tighter. “You didn’t know me then.” “No. But I do now. And everyone has to start falling in love somewhere.” His lips moved up my neck, peppering kisses until he’d made it to my mouth, where he smiled. “This is yet another example of us living in different worlds. But I won’t ever make you pretend, Rhion. You can tell people it was love at first sight. I’ll tell people we met at a bar.” I kissed him slow and wet. “My version’s better.” “It usually is.” He winked. “I think that is the most you’ve ever said to me.” I laughed. “I’m pretty sure it’s not.” He swayed his head from side to side. “Okay, maybe not in words. But definitely in content.” Smiling, I whispered, “I love you, J—” Then I screamed, “Jesus!” when my bedroom door swung open and Alex came walking in. His massive body locked up when he caught sight of us. But, before he could back out, Jude had already launched himself to his feet, butt naked, crouched and ready to attack. “What the fuck!” Jude snarled. “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry,” Alex said, lifting his hands in surrender and spinning to face the door. I tugged the covers up my chest and asked, “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” “You big dummy!” I heard Brianna say at the same time she appeared at the door, wearing nothing but a virtually invisible lace nightie complete with garters and a pair of stilettos. A seductive smile curled her painted-red lips as she raked her gaze over Jude’s naked body. “Niiiice,” she purred. “Brianna!” I scolded while Jude snagged my towel off the ground and wrapped it around his hips. “I said the second door on the right!” she chided Alex. “This is the second door. The first is a bathroom!” he argued. She leaned her upper body out of the door to look down the hall and then let out a curse. “Shit. Sorry. My bad.” “What in the fuck is going on here?” Jude asked, clearly slow on the uptake. I, on the other hand, was pissed—and seriously impressed. “Did you fake passing out so you could sneak Alex into my apartment?” Brianna grinned. “I’ve been taking acting classes.” “Solid performance,” I praised. “Wait. What happened to your obsession with Devon or Johnson?” Alex grunted but never turned to face us. She curled an arm around his Herculean waist and pressed her front into his. “They tried too hard. If I had to watch one more game of rock-paper-scissors, I was going to lose my mind. Besides, Alex spent the day silently eye-fucking me from the couch.” She lowered her voice to a purr. “Best sex of my life.” She let out a yelp as his arm moved down in what I assumed was an ass grope. I laughed, but Jude let out a string of expletives. “Right,” I said. “Well, then. For future reference, the ocean room is the third room on the right—” “And the Marriott is two blocks over,” Jude added. Brianna giggled musically. “Good to know. We’ll…just…leave you two alone now.” Alex quickly walked out, but my best friend lingered for a second longer, lifting her hands in the air to reveal her crossed fingers. “Wish me luck that the size of the package matches the size of the man,” she whispered.

Jude groaned and shook his head, dropping it back to stare up at the ceiling. I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling huge. “Good luck. And please, for the love of God, turn on the beach sounds.” “Sure thing.” She bowed low, almost spilling her boobs out of her top. “Good night, ladies and gentlemen.” “Night,” Jude muttered, walking to the door. She’d barely made it out of the room before Jude swung it shut, careful to lock it. “It’s official,” he said. “That woman is crazier than you.” “I know! Isn’t it great?” He dropped the towel and climbed back into bed. “I’m not sure great is the word I was looking for.” He jostled me until I was resting on his chest. Then he folded his arms behind his head. “I’m glad you have someone like her, though I’m gonna have to have a conversation with her about giving out keys to your apartment.” “It was just Alex.” “Not my job to care who it was.” I smiled up at him. “So, you love me, huh?” “Yeah, and I’m not using a condom next time I’m inside you. Though, unfortunately, that is not gonna be tonight. I need to hurry up and find REM before those two get started.” “Good plan.” I puckered my lips, and he dipped down for a quick kiss. Leaning to the side, he flipped the switch by the headboard to turn the lights off before snuggling down for the night. I was drawing lazy circles on his chest, searching for sleep that I knew was well out of my reach after the excitement of the day—and, now, night—when I heard him say, “We move the tattoo chair, we could put my bed in there and make a room for Val.” My body went stiff as my throat became tight. A million synonyms for “Yes!” including, We can move the entire apartment if you want, raced to the tip of my tongue, but only a whispered, “Okay, Jude,” came out. “We’ll start moving my stuff over slowly, but I’m gonna hang on to my apartment for a little while longer, just in case you need some space.” I wouldn’t need any space. I would have happily lived the rest of my life between those four walls with Jude, but I thought it was really freaking sweet that he would offer to keep his apartment in case I did. Draping my arm around his middle, I hugged him hard. “You’re real.” He slid his arm under me and exhaled a reverent, “Love you too, Butterfly.”

One month later…

“Who in the hell moves five days before Christmas in Chicago?” Devon complained as he helped me drag my dining room table off the back of Alex’s truck. “It’s cold as fuck out here!” “At least it’s not snowing,” Alex grunted. “Less talking. More moving. We’ve got exactly twenty minutes before Rhion’s uncle gets here.” After pulling two chairs off, I headed straight for the stairwell. I held the door with my back for them to follow through with the table. “I’m dying to meet this guy,” Devon said, backing up the first step. “I looked into him a while back. He owns these huge real estate companies that buy entire city blocks of property. Maybe he can give me some advice on the market.” “You planning to buy a tower downtown now?” Alex asked. “Last I heard, you were looking for a roommate so you could afford that penis implant you’ve had your eye on.” “Oh, fuck you. Two dates with Brianna Talbot and, suddenly, you got jokes.” Alex held his side of the table in one hand and flipped him off with the other. “Rhion owns millions in real estate companies,” I corrected. “Pete just runs it for her.” Devon flashed me a wicked grin. “Yeah, but Rhion’s a stripper. I want to know how the market is looking should I decide to buy a house, not which body oil brand is the best.” I glowered as the stairwell door slammed shut behind us. “She’s not a fucking stripper.” “Simmer down. We know she writes books,” Alex said. “We play along because it’s entertaining to watch her make up shit on the fly. She’s sharp—I’ll give her that.” “Easy!” I yelled as the top of the table scraped against the railing when they made the turn to the second flight. “Sorry,” Devon said sheepishly. “Anyway, where is Little Miss Creativity anyway? She could at least be holding doors.” He balanced the table on his thigh as he pulled the one to the second floor open. “She’s been working all morning, trying to finish her book before Pete gets here.” Thankfully, my table made it the rest of the way up the stairs scratch- and dent-free. Just as we got through the door, I heard Rhion call my name from the bedroom. Devon and Alex carried the table to the empty dining room, Rhion having given hers to Braydon days earlier. She’d said that she had an attachment to mine, and while I couldn’t deny that it held some seriously fond memories for me too, I wasn’t sure how I was going to feel about serving my mom and dad Christmas dinner on a table I’d fucked Rhion on. But Rhion had told me that she’d buy a new tablecloth, and then she’d pointed out that they’d be sitting on a couch I’d fucked her on. Sleeping in a guest room I’d fucked her in. Showering in a shower that… Well, you get the point. While we’d only found out about Pete’s visit last week, my mother had been planning her visit down

to Chicago since I’d mentioned Rhion’s name back at Thanksgiving. To say they were shocked that I was dating my fiery Butterfly would have been a vast understatement. They’d lived through those first few months after the fire with me and knew firsthand how badly that night had affected me—how much she had affected me. The one time I’d had lunch with my dad, he’d spent two full hours asking if I was sure she was the same woman. My parents only lived a few hours outside the city, so it had taken a lot of effort to keep them away as long as I had. But the last thing I’d needed was my mom bursting into tears the second she saw Rhion’s scars. And she would have. She still cried every time she saw mine. My mom was insane, and if I stopped to think about it, she was probably the reason I’d fallen so fast and so hard for Rhion. My affection for crazy women had been born and bred into me. “Yeah, babe,” I called back to Rhion as I set the chairs down next to the table. She came strutting down the hall in a red-and-silver ball gown. It fit her figure like a glove, hugging her every curve, but the long sleeves and the high neckline were what caught my attention. Never—not once—had I seen Rhion in anything other than low-cut, short-sleeve, or sleeveless shirts. She’d layer up with jackets when we went out, but at the base of it all was always a tiny top. When I’d asked her about it on a particularly cold evening, she’d told me that she’d lived in skintight compression garments for over a year. After that, she’d vowed never to put on another long-sleeve shirt for the rest of her life. While I’d hated that she’d gone through that, I was so fucking proud of her. Rhion was scared of a lot of things. But she was also the bravest woman I’d ever met. Effortlessly so. “What do you think of this dress?” she asked, doing a spin. I tilted my head as I walked in her direction. “Is it Coronation Day already?” “Hilarious,” she deadpanned. “Pete’s going to want to take us out to some ostentatious restaurant for dinner. I want to look the part.” I placed my hands on my hips and gave her a squeeze. “Butterfly, people refer to you as the Park family heiress. You are the part.” “No. My shoes are the part.” She waggled her eyebrows and lifted her dress to reveal a pair of sexy heels encrusted in silver stones. “Otherwise, I’m just a simple girl with impeccable taste.” “If those are diamonds, it’s gonna make me giving you an engagement ring one day seriously uneventful,” I said before kissing her on her forehead. She laughed and patted my chest. “They’re just crystals.” “Of course they are. Anyway.” I smacked her on the ass. “I hate that dress. Go change.” Her mouth fell open. “What? Why?” She smoothed the front down and then uncomfortably shifted her shoulders, making it clear she hated the damn dress too. “Hey, man,” Devon interrupted. “We’re going to duck out before she castrates you.” I kept my eyes on Rhion as I called out, “Sounds good. Thanks for the help.” After a muttered, “No problem,” and “Good luck,” the door closed behind them. Rhion launched in. “What’s wrong with it?” “Nothing’s wrong with it. I just hate it. It’s got sleeves.” I drifted my fingers over the top of her breasts. “And I can’t see these.” She frowned and turned away, talking over her shoulder as she headed to our bedroom, “It’s called being classy, Jude.” I followed her. “It’s called hiding, Rhion. But what I’m trying to figure out is why you’re starting now.” She scoffed. “I’m not hiding anything. It’s cold out and it’s a nice dress.” Pulling her hair over her shoulder, she backed up to me and asked, “Help me out of this?” “Gladly.” I kissed the curve of her neck as I slowly pulled the zipper down, stopping halfway to whisper in her ear. “But, first, tell me why you’re covering your scars for Pete. And don’t bullshit me,

Butterfly. It never ends well for you.” She didn’t reply, so I patiently waited by trailing kisses up and down her neck. It wasn’t exactly torture for me. “He stares at them,” she finally whispered so softly that it was barely audible. I froze but kept my lips pressed to her skin. “I think my scars bother him. Ya know. He was really upset after—” “Fuck him,” I ground out, righting myself and turning her in my arms. “Honey, my dad would have been the same way,” she cajoled. “My burns are a constant reminder that I was hurt and there was nothing he could do to fix it.” I barked a humorless laugh. “Trust me, Rhion. I understand that more than anyone else. But I swear to God—other people don’t get to shame you for surviving a horrific event. He wants to stare? Let him.” She caught me by the back of my neck, sliding her hand over the ridges under my hair. “Hello, pot. You’re black.” While I still wasn’t eager to have her touch my scars, I never stopped her. It burned, a sizzling that radiated over my entire body, but in a lot of ways, I thought I deserved that. “Mine are different and you know it.” “I don’t know that,” she lied quietly. Though it was only a lie to me. Rhion believed that my burns were just as beautiful as hers. I disagreed wholeheartedly. Mine were a reminder of failure. And hers were a display of survival. Hers were soft, barely visible beneath the brightly colored ink she’d used to decorate them—not cover them the way I’d done with my hair. Mine were hard. Ugly. And downright offensive. Exactly like the night I’d acquired them. As strange as it may sound, if they had been on my face, I would have worn them with pride. I would have accepted her designation of the title “hero.” I would have looked myself in the mirror every day knowing I’d earned them in the most honorable way possible—saving her. Especially now that I knew what an incredible person she was. A life I almost allowed to be snuffed out. It some ways, the guilt and regret became heavier after I’d fallen in love with her. At least, when she’d been a stranger, leaving her to burn in those flames had only been a notch on my conscience. But now that she was mine. The woman I had every intention of spending a lifetime with. The woman I’d almost lost before I’d ever gotten her. It was a notch on my entire soul. “You have to let it go, Jude,” she whispered. I closed my eyes and allowed her fingerprints to brand me. “How did this become about me?” “It’s always been about you. You saved me a lot of years ago. Maybe it’s my turn now.” I laughed sadly. “I don’t need saving, Butterfly.” “I disagree.” She suddenly disappeared. When I opened my eyes, she was walking to her vanity. “Sit down.” She signaled to the small stool. I narrowed my eyes. “I need to go get the rest of my stuff out of Alex’s truck before you do my makeup.” She glared. “Shut up and sit down, Jude.” I chuckled and followed her direction. “Close your eyes,” she ordered. Humoring her, I sucked in deep breath and scrubbed my hands over my jeans as I allowed my lids to

fall. She began brushing my hair in rhythmic strokes. Dragging the brush through before following it down with her hand. While I hated the long hair something fierce, the way it felt when she toyed with it definitely had its merits. She stopped, and I heard the brush land on the table and then the sounds of her digging through a drawer. “You know, if this were a romance novel, this is when I’d give you an inspirational speech that would magically take away years of hurt and then cut your hair off.” My pulse quickened as I shot to my feet. “Don’t you dare!” She winked at me and motioned for me to sit back down. I cautiously lowered myself back to the stool while warning, “I’m serious. Don’t fucking cut my hair.” “Relax. I’m not. As you so often like to remind me, life is not a romance novel. Now, close your eyes and hush.” Her reassurance did nothing to slow my heart or make me trust that she wasn’t up to some type of Rhion Park craziness that would more than likely cause me to lose my mind. “I’ll keep my eyes open,” I stated. She glowered at me for several seconds but relented to my caveat with a roll of her eyes. Using my shoulders, she urged me to face the mirror. “As I was saying, seeing as how I know nothing about cutting hair and I’m also quite fond of yours, we are going to have to make do.” She lifted a black hair tie up in my direction. My body sagged in relief as she went to work picking my hair up into a small ponytail and looping the end to make more of a bun type of thingy. “I look like a douchebag,” I said when she finished. She giggled and tugged her dress up so she could straddle my lap. Encircling my neck with her arms, she replied. “You don’t look like a douchebag. You look sexy. Though you might have to buy a pair of skinny jeans and a bow tie to complete the look.” I chuckled and leaned in for a kiss, but she denied me by swaying away. “I don’t have any inspirational words that can fix years’ worth of hurt. But what I do have is time, Jude. And I’m never going to stop trying to make you see your burns for the beautiful masterpieces they are. Maybe it will happen after I trick you into marrying me, because I couldn’t think of a more perfect husband—scars and all. “Or maybe it will happen after I convince you to give me a baby who won’t ever see your burns as a flaw, but rather a testament to the fact that you saved his or her mother from an impossible situation.” “Jesus,” I breathed as the idea of starting a family with her sang in my veins. She dodged another kiss. “Maybe it will happen when we have gray hair and you’re holding my hand in the rocking chair next to me and it finally hits you that, without those scars, I wouldn’t have been able to live the amazing life I know we’ll have had together.” Her voice caught at the end. And I felt that same emotion in the marrow of my bones. God. I wanted that with her. The life. The family. The future. The perspective. The forgiveness. The pride. “But, for now, let’s make a deal. You wear your hair up tonight and I’ll wear a different dress. We can be beautifully flawed together.” And that’s when it hit me. That’s all I ever wanted to be with her. I didn’t have to be perfect. I didn’t have to be the hero who did everything right.

I didn’t have to carry the guilt and shame of my actions that night. I didn’t have to own any of it. With Rhion, I was free. To her, I was perfect. I was the hero who did everything right. I didn’t have a reason to carry guilt or shame. My actions had been successful in saving her life. And there was nothing to own. To Rhion, I’d always been free. She’d even written over a dozen books showing it. I had just been too damn consumed to accept it. “Jesus,” I cursed, burying my face in her neck. “Is that a yes?” she asked. It was. A yes to the hair. A yes to getting married one day. A yes to making babies. A yes to raising a family. A yes to growing old with her. A yes to an amazing life. But, most of all, a yes to being beautifully flawed together. Tipping her to the side, I kissed her with my entire being. Lips. Tongue. Heart. Soul. Scars and all.



True to his word, Jude wore his hair up that night. True to mine, I wore a strapless, black cocktail dress when Pete took us to dinner. As I’d expected, Pete stared, but every time I started to squirm, Jude was there with a reassuring touch to set me at ease. Surprisingly enough, Pete didn’t take us to an ostentatious restaurant, but rather a chain steakhouse. I thought he did it for Jude’s benefit, to make him feel more comfortable. Though, judging by the glares they exchanged for most of the meal, I wasn’t sure it was all that effective. Dinner. Was. Awkward. Jude was polite and tried starting innocent conversation with Pete. Pete, however, threw snide insults disguised as jokes back at Jude every chance he got. Meanwhile, I nervously slid my mother’s diamond across the chain so fast that it was a wonder I didn’t cause sparks. By the time we finished our salads, Pete was already making up excuses about why he needed to get back to his hotel as quickly as possible. Normally, I would have been hurt, considering I hadn’t seen him in over six months, but I was so relieved when he stood to leave, still chewing his last bite of steak. Though my disappointment rang loudly. My heart broke as I watched Pete so obviously shun Jude. They were two of the most important men in my life. I wasn’t naïve. Pete had more than made his feelings on Jude clear on the phone weeks earlier. It wasn’t like I’d expected him to change overnight and immediately accept him into our little makeshift family. I had, however, hoped that it would happen that way. There was a myriad of reasons why I loved Jude. But the way he guided me back to our apartment without saying a single negative word about Pete was one of the biggest reasons. He recognized that I was hurting and took it upon himself to make it better even though he was the one who had been wronged. Another one of the reasons I loved Jude because he took his time making love to me as though he knew I needed the connection between us. A reminder that he would always there for me, no matter what the situation. Or at least that was what I took from his whispered promises that it would be okay. I wasn’t sure it would, but with Jude’s loving, green gaze staring down at me, I knew unequivocally that I would be. We eventually fell asleep. Sweaty, sated, and, for me, closer than ever before. The next morning, I pried my eyes open and found Jude sitting on the corner of the bed, fully dressed in one of his work suits, his hair still damp from a shower. “Wake up, beautiful.” “What time is it?” I asked, stretching out like a cat. “Seven. But Zach just called to tell me Pete was at the elevator. You might want to throw on some cloth—” He was cut off by a knock on the door. I groaned. “I really don’t have anything to say to him after last night.” “You gotta talk to him. I’ll make myself scarce and have Zach keep the cameras off so you two can

talk in private, but you gotta do it.” Pulling the blanket down, he plucked my nipple. “I’ve got a meeting with Leo anyway.” I swatted his hand away. “Don’t do that. I can’t be pissy with you fondling me.” He chuckled, and another knock sounded at the door. Rising to his feet, he said, “All right. You get up. I’ll don some armor, let Scrooge in, and get him situated with coffee. Then you can be as pissy as you want after I leave. He acts like a dick to you, I’m liable to do something that will get me permanently banned from family dinners.” He walked to the door, but I stopped him right before he exited the room. “Hey, Jude?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah, baby?” “You know I love you, right?” His face became soft as he turned all the way around. “Yeah. I know that.” “And, if he never accepts our relationship, I’ll still always choose you.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, and you know that I don’t give two fucks what that man thinks about me, right? I would never ask you to choose between me and your family.” I smiled as my stomach filled with butterflies—not the nervous kind though. The kind that show up when something feels so right that it’s almost scary. Another, slightly louder knock came from the door, but Jude didn’t move. “He’ll get over it, babe,” he said. “He’s gonna have to, because this, right here, between me and you is permanent. We’re gonna take our time growing it. But it’s gonna end with rings and babies and rocking chairs whether he approves or not.” The butterflies suddenly stilled. And not because it wasn’t still the most perfectly right feeling in the world. But because, with Jude staring back at me, a sexy smile playing at his lips, and promises of the future fresh from his tongue, it was hard to be scared of anything. “I love you, Jude.” “I love you too. Now, put on some clothes before the old man freezes in the breezeway.” He winked and then walked away. I didn’t immediately move. In every person’s life, there are key moments that stick with them for a lifetime. For me, they were my mother’s laugh when I’d run from the waves at the beach, the way my father’s eyes had lit every time I’d walked into a room, Apollo smiling at me from behind the prison glass, waking up inside that burning house, and hearing Jude’s voice yelling up at me after I’d given up on all hopes of survival. And right then, staring at my bedroom door he’d walked out of, I added one more moment to the list that would forever be a part of my story. It didn’t matter that he probably wouldn’t remember our conversation by dinnertime. Nor did it matter that it wasn’t a grand gesture or some huge romantic sentiment. He hadn’t whispered words to my soul or dropped to his knee with a massive engagement ring. It was so much better. Jude had given me the realization that I was no longer alone in the world. I had him. Permanently. I should have gotten up and gone out to talk to Pete. Instead, I sat in the middle of my bed, opened my computer, and typed the very first words of my newest book. My debut nonfiction. And yet, the greatest love story I’d ever write.

“Well, there she is,” Pete said twenty minutes later when I strolled out of the bedroom in jeans and a Tshirt. I’d had to pry my fingers away from the keyboard, and I was already counting down the minutes until I could get back at it. One thing I’d learned over the years: When words were flowing, you didn’t interrupt them. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” I lied. “No problem. Jude just left.” He stood off the barstool and headed over to wrap me in a hug. I returned it coolly. “You’re mad,” he stated. I bee-lined to the other side of the bar, straight to the coffee maker. “No. I’m hurt.” “Rhion,” he sighed, but he didn’t say anything further. I made quick work of putting my coffee together before facing him. Leaning against the counter, I asked, “Why are you here?” His forehead crinkled as he straightened his tie and replied, “To see you.” “You haven’t seen me in months.” “I’ve been busy with work. Surely you remember how chaotic things get toward the end of the year.” “But not too busy to come down here and act like a jerk to the man who has been taking care of me for the last few months.” I kept my gaze trained on him as I tipped the mug to my lips. His shoulders fell as a flash of regret painted his face. “I wanted to apologize about that.” “Did you apologize to Jude?” With his hand shoved in his pocket, he slowly ambled around the counter toward me. “I did. And I’d like to make it up to you both tonight.” I laughed. “No way am I signing up for that again. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my entire life, Pete. Jude has been nothing but good to me, and honestly, I don’t care that he punched you back at the hospital. I’m starting to think you probably deserved it.” His jaw clamped shut, ticking at the hinge, but when he opened his mouth, his tone was gentle. “I probably did.” I blinked, doing my best to keep my surprise under wraps. He let out a ragged breath and stopped in front of me. “I’m sorry, okay?” He took the coffee mug from my hand and set it on the counter. “I’m struggling with you dating this guy. If it had been up to me after the fire, we would have wiped the floor with him in a civil suit for negligence. I honored your wishes back then and didn’t ever pursue anything. But that does not mean I ever forgave him for what he did to you.” He rested his hand on my forearm and allowed his thumb to carefully travel over the scars. I gritted my teeth and tugged my arm away. “What he did to me is save my life. And this is the last time I will ever listen to you imply otherwise.” He closed his eyes for a brief second, but when they popped open, resolve was dancing within. “He’s living here now, isn’t he?” I turned and headed for the pantry, breakfast less on my mind than getting some space from him. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business.” “I saw more of his coats in the hall closet than yours when he left.” “And…” I prompted, retrieving a box of granola I had no intention of eating. “And I didn’t realize you were this serious with him.” I rolled my eyes. “Pete, how many men have I ever introduced you to? Or, better yet, how many did I ever introduce Dad to?” I didn’t wait for him to reply. “One. Chad Gruber in eleventh grade. Dad told him that, if he ever touched me, he’d hire a hitman. Then he had Johnson put on a ski mask and abduct him from a soccer game just to prove he could.”

His lips twitched at the memory. “Your father was always much more creative than I was. That must be where you got it from.” “Probably. But don’t try to change the subject with flattery. You knew exactly how big of a deal it was for me to introduce you to Jude and you were rude.” He pulled me into a side hug. “And I’m apologizing, Rhion. Last night, after I left, I did some thinking. I barely slept at all. Look, I’m happy for you. I really am. And I’m trying. It’s going take a little while for me to be comfortable though. You know I worry. And, while I know you don’t have all of the money anymore”—he waved his arm around the apartment—“you are still quite wealthy. Men see that—” “Jude pays for dinner every time we go out,” I interrupted. “Including last night when you left without picking up the tab.” He yanked his wallet from his back pocket. “I’ll reimburse him immediately.” “It’s not about the money!” I shouted. He startled and shoved his wallet back into his pocket. “God, Pete. For the first time in my entire life, it’s not about the money. It doesn’t exist between us. I’ve tried, you know, to bring it up. I told Jude the other night how much I was worth. He didn’t even turn the TV down. He patted me on the leg, said, ‘Wow. That would buy you a lot of shoes,’ and then asked me to get him a beer.” My voice hitched. “I don’t know what it is that I do for Jude or why he loves me the way he does, but I know with an absolute certainty that money is not it.” He swallowed hard, and his gaze softened in understanding. “I never wanted that money, Pete. I wanted my dad back. I wanted my mom back. I wanted Apollo back. I wanted my family, and money couldn’t buy me that.” My voice cracked at the end. Pete immediately wrapped me in his arms. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. No more talk about the money. I brought papers for you to sign in order to regain control of your father’s physical assets as you requested, but it can wait for another day.” “No. I don’t want to wait.” I sniffled and stepped away. Then I squared my shoulders as I announced, “I want it all back.” His head snapped to the side. “I’m sorry. What?” “The entire estate,” I clarified. He blinked rapidly and his mouth fell open. “Why on Earth would you want to get back into a situation like that? Surely you remember how stressed out that money made you. All the people knocking at your door, asking for a handout. And that’s not to mention Apollo. He’ll come after you again.” I’d thought about all of this in great detail for years. It was what had kept me captive inside my apartment for entirely too long. But that was before Jude. “I’m not scared anymore,” I whispered. “I’m ready, Pete. I’m gonna cut Apollo in for fifty percent. He is a horrible human being, but he lost Mom and Dad too. He’s out there alone the same way I’ve been for the last few years.” “Rhion,” he scolded. “You were never alone.” “For God’s sake, Pete, I was the definition of alone. My best friends are a team of bodyguards and a woman I’ve only met twice now. Maybe Apollo will find his Jude. Or maybe he’ll just find comfort in the fact that he finally wore me down. But, when I sign that check over, I’ll know that there is nothing else I can do for my brother. Then I’ll sleep easy knowing I tried.” He actually stumbled back a step. “And I want to pay Katie for the year she helped me, when everyone else, including you, took off.” His back shot straight. “Pardon me? I did not take off.” “Yeah, you did. Everyone did. Everyone but her. I know she has her own struggles, but she was there for me during mine. There is no price tag I can put on that. Margaret can go fuck herself. But I’m taking care of Katie.”

“What the hell is going on with you?” he bit out, shock etched on his face. I slapped my hand down on the counter. “I’m done! I want my life back. I’m sick of hiding. I’m sick of pretending I’m someone I’m not.” I held my head high and announced, “I am Rhion Park. Heir to my father’s hard-earned estate. A woman who lost both of her parents entirely too young. A burn victim. A survivor. An author. A woman who is terrified of her brother. A beautifully flawed woman in love with a beautifully flawed man. I am not fiction, Pete. And, for the first time since Dad died, I’m okay with that.” Tears spilled from my eyes, and my heart pounded in my chest. I hadn’t woken up that morning planning to take my father’s fortune back. Like most things in my life, it had just kind of happened. But it was by far the most liberating decision I’d ever made. I was no longer a supporting character in the story of my life. From that moment forward, I was taking control back. Fearlessly. Pete stared at me for several beats, his face unreadable. “Are you sure? And I mean really sure, Rhion? If this is about Jude—” “I’m positive.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, okay. Go put on some shoes. I’ll call the attorney and have him draw up the reversal paperwork. I don’t necessarily agree with this decision, but if it’s what you want, I won’t stand in your way.” Smiling huge, I nodded numerous times, unable to get any words out without bursting into another round of tears. Pete warmly returned my smile. “Don’t just stand there, nonfiction Rhion Park. Go get dressed. I’ll call Jude and have him meet us at the car.” I laughed and choked out, “We’re going to do it? Like, right now?” His eyes wrinkled at the corners as he grinned and parroted, “Like, right now.” I squealed, my heart practically in my throat, and launched myself into his arms. He patted my back. “Okay. Hurry up now.” He didn’t have to tell me twice. I listened to him on the phone as I slipped on some heels and my coat. First with the attorney, speaking in legal terms that I’m sure made sense to someone, just not me. Then with Jude, which much to my elation Pete sounded surprisingly kind as he filled him in on the details. Moments later, Pete and I were on the elevator riding down to the garage. I knew that that day was going to change my life. When I returned home, I’d be doing it as a completely different woman. But what I failed to consider was that I might not ever return at all.



“What did the attorney say?” I asked Pete as we stepped out of the elevator. I quickly glanced around for Jude but didn’t see him. “He’s probably going to charge us triple for coming in on his day off.” He looked to me and grinned. “I told him that was fine now that you’re paying.” He winked. I let out a courtesy chuckle, too preoccupied by the fact that Jude wasn’t there. I’d vowed to take my life back, but the familiar nerves grew in my belly. “Maybe we should go up to Guardian.” Pete rubbed my back. “Calm down. He assured me he was on his way.” A black town car with dark, tinted windows pulled up in front of us. Pete motioned toward it. “Let’s get out of the cold.” “I…I don’t know,” I stammered, my anxiety spiraling into a beast as I stared over my shoulder at the door to the stairwell. I attempted a mental pep talk, consoling myself with thoughts that he’d be there any second. But my fingers began to tingle as any confidence I had left morphed into panic. “Rhion,” Pete assuaged. “The car is safer and warmer than standing here.” He stepped off the curb to the awaiting vehicle and pulled the back door open. Jude’s coming. It’s fine. He must have gotten tied up for a second. “I…uh.” Where was the fucking air? “I can’t breathe,” I said, backing toward the elevator. And then I froze. One word. That was all it took for utter terror to consume me. “Rhion,” he said, sauntering through the exit of the parking garage, a cigarette dangling between his lips. His familiar voice raked over me like razor blades. I scrambled back until my ass hit the closed elevator doors. “Don’t come any closer, Apollo,” Pete said, moving toward him and stepping into his path to cut him off. “Fuck you, asshole,” he barked, his long legs never slowing as he flicked his cigarette to the ground Then, not even a second later, his fist landed hard against Pete’s face. I screamed, frantically digging inside my pockets in search of my card so I could get into the elevator, but my hands were shaking too much for me to be effective. Pete stumbled back but somehow managed to stay on his feet. “Get in the car, Rhion!” he yelled, wiping the blood pouring from his nose with the back of his sleeve. “Don’t you fucking move,” Apollo growled. My lungs burned, and my chest ached. Pete quickly backed away as my brother continued to advance. “Rhion, get in the car now!” Pete shouted, ducking inside the open door. Apollo continued moving toward me.

I lifted a shaky hand in his direction and attempted to bargain with him. “I’m going to give you the money. We were actually going to sign the papers to get it back in my control now.” He stopped and an emotion akin to shock, but much darker, sifted through his features. “You can’t take the fucking money back!” he boomed. His face turned downright malevolent as he once again prowled toward me. My mind was reeling, but panic controlled my thoughts, and he was getting closer by the second. I wasn’t all that excited about leaving without Jude. However, when faced with a car ride with Pete or an altercation with my brother, I’d pick Pete every time. Very slowly, I stepped out of my heels. My gaze locked on my brother. Then, with adrenaline fueling my legs, I burst toward the town car. Apollo took off equally as fast, a million cuss words flowing from his lips. It couldn’t have been more than twenty steps, but it felt like it took a year. Ultimately, his legs were longer, so when I dove into the car, he caught my arm. My body was yanked back so violently that I cracked my head on the door. My vision tunneled and my hearing faded to a dull roar, but I fought to balance myself on the leather seat. “Fucking stop!” Apollo roared. Pete pulled on my other arm in a human tug-of-war. Good versus Evil. Fingers bruising me on both sides. “Go! Go! Go!” Pete yelled at the driver. When the car began moving, I nearly fell out. Apollo’s eyes flashed wide, and with one last jerk, I was able to get my arm away from him and snatch the door shut. “Rhion, no!” he yelled, running beside the car, slamming his fists on the window. “No! Stop! Rhion!” he bellowed almost painfully. The tears were already falling from my eyes, but it felt as though my insides were being ripped out as I watched Apollo struggling to get into the car. Each thud was like a knife to the heart. “Oh God!” I cried, burying my face in Pete’s coat until the pounding stopped. “Shhhh. He’s gone. I’m calling Jude now. I’ll have him meet us at my hotel.” I nodded, unable to form a coherent response. He passed me a mini bottle of water from the seat pocket in front of him and lifted his phone to his ear. “Here. Drink this and try to take a deep breath.” Doing my best to keep the panic at bay, I obeyed. Cool. Wet. Refreshing. It wasn’t until I finished the bottle that I discovered another adjective to describe it. Chalky.

“A week? You’ve been here a few months and you’re already putting in for vacation?” Leo laughed. “Does it count as a vacation if I take Rhion with me?” He gave me a side-eye. “Depends. You going to be lounging on the beach?” I chuckled. “It’ll be January.”

With his elbows on the desk, he folded his hands together and rested his chin on top of them. “It’s LA.” I laughed and leaned back in my chair. Then I became serious as I said, “She wants to get Val and go back to the beach house. It’s got a lot of memories with her mom. I think it’d be good for her, but I need more than a weekend off to take them.” “You pay for your own expenses while you’re gone and I won’t count it against your vacation time.” I smiled. “Perfect.” “Besides, I like seeing her happy. And, not going to lie, it doesn’t hurt that you are too. I’m not sure if you brainwashed her or what, but she doesn’t even seem to care that you’re an ugly bastard. I’ve considered taking her to get glasses.” I laughed in a short burst. “Right? It’s the damnedest thing.” “I’ll sign off on whatever you need. Fill out the paperwork and leave it on my desk.” We both pushed to our feet, and I extended a hand in his direction. He clasped it in a firm shake. “Thanks. I appreciate it,” I said at the same time my phone started ringing in my pocket. “Go ahead and take that. I’ve got to get back to work anyway. Listen, you come back with a tan, we’re going to have serious problems.” I chuckled and headed to the door, lifting my phone to my ear as I answered, “Levitt.” “He’s going to kill her!” a man’s voice roared across the line. My whole body went on alert as I froze in Leo’s doorway. “’Scuse me?” “You need to move. Call the cops or whatever the hell it is that you do, but you gotta move now.” “Who the fuck is this?” I barked. His breathing was labored as the sounds of a horn blared in the background, but I would never forget for the rest of my life the three crystal-clear syllables filtering through the line. “Apollo!” The blood in my veins suddenly burst into flames. “You listen to me, you piece of shit—” “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Save it for when Pete Higgins isn’t about to kill my sister.” Confusion warred with rational thought. “The fuck are you talking about? How’d you get my number?” “More questions I’ll be happy to answer after you get in your goddamn car and help me get her back.” I turned to Leo and found him watching me intently. I snapped, pointed to the monitor on his desk, and mouthed, “Rhion’s apartment. Now.” He arched an eyebrow but did as I’d asked. I moved around his desk so I could see the screen. “Get her back from where?” I asked absently as Leo scanned her apartment, my anxiety growing with each room. “He took her! I knew something was wrong when I didn’t see any of you with her. I made an approach in the garage, but I lost her. Listen to me. I’m tailing them. I’m probably about four car lengths back, but I don’t think he’s tagged me.” I barely heard his words over the blood roaring in my ears as Leo clicked on the final room in her apartment. Empty. Just like my chest.

Perception. Is. Everything. People aren’t one-dimensional characters. We’re complex creatures. With feelings. Compassion. Morals. And the lack thereof. To some, I would forever be the villain. But even the darkest shadows require light to exist. I spent a lot of years hating my sister. At first, I hated her because she got all the attention. And then, years later, after Pete Higgins had forced himself on me for the first time, I hated her because she didn’t get any of the attention. I got every single bit of it. Rhion slept soundly in her bed, night after night, not a fear in the world. Meanwhile, I spent most of my adolescence listening for the click of my bedroom door opening every time my father went out of town. My first memory of Pete was him straightening up our apartment the night my mother died. As my father’s assistant and best friend, he was such a fixture in my life that I never thought anything of it. Of course he was there that night. A tragedy had happened. Only, in my memories, there were no cops that would later flood the place. It had only been him and me as he righted upside-down tables and washed one martini glass while the other lay shattered next to one of my mother’s shoes on the balcony. No. That realization came much later in life, after I’d learned how evil the man truly was. It had always been amazing to me how people could share the exact same childhood and come out with such radically different experiences. Rhion once told me that some of her fondest memories were of when we’d been young. Meanwhile, for me, it was a hell I still struggled to forget on a daily basis. When I became a teen, I started acting out. Lying. Making up shit, silently wishing someone—anyone —would read between the lines and actually hear my cries. They never did. By the time I hit seventeen, I was a ticking time bomb. I had a lot of shit to work through, and that didn’t get addressed until I went to jail. Yeah, God was looking out for me the day I took my father’s car keys. It wasn’t a drunken joy ride the way my public defender claimed at my trial; it was a failed kamikaze mission. Though, regretfully, I never made it to where I was supposed to meet Pete. Eventually, I broke, dressed in a prison jumpsuit at the county jail, revealing to my father years of abuse at the hands of his dear friend. He told me to stop making up stories to save my own ass. It was the last time I saw my father alive. I wished I could say I’d been devastated to hear that he’d passed away. And maybe I’d get there one day. But, at twenty, when my prison counselor pulled me into his office to let me know he was gone, the abused little boy inside me celebrated. That is until I found out he’d left Rhion everything. I didn’t care about the money. Well, that’s not completely true. Money was fucking great. But that wasn’t why I lost it. My father might as well have painted a bull’s-eye on her back. Rhion wasn’t like me. She didn’t realize that the world was full of horrible people. She’d been raised in a bubble where skinned knees and broken hearts were her only worry. She was a dreamer with rosecolored glasses. Satan himself could stare her straight in the face and she wouldn’t recognize him. Rhion was not equipped to play in the same league as a money-hungry monster in disguise like Pete. The moment that will was read, Rhion was as good as dead. I tried to warn her, but she wouldn’t believe me. She’d been preconditioned from a very young age to believe that I was the bad guy. So I became the bad guy. The day I saw her at that charity event with security hovering all around, it hit me. If Rhion was afraid of me, she’d surround herself with people who could protect her. I’d never forget the pain on her face as I wrapped my hand around her throat and told her that I’d

started the fire. It was for the best, but it shredded me all the same. Mainly because she’d bought it so easily. After that, keeping tabs on her was relatively easy. She bought the apartment beneath Guardian. Public record. So I rented the apartment over Murphy’s bar. I got with some buddies I’d met in jail and had them teach me everything I needed to know about becoming her shadow. A hundred-dollar security camera aimed at both the entrances of her building and I was in business terrorizing my sister so he couldn’t get to her. Jude Levitt was the one complication I couldn’t figure out. It freaked me out the night I saw him walk into the bar. I didn’t think twice about following him in. I knew he was the disgraced first responder from the fire, and I feared he was working for Pete. I used the last of my inheritance from my mother’s estate running background checks on him, not satisfied until I knew every single detail of his boring-ass life. While I was doing that, I kept a close eye on him and my sister. It didn’t take long to see that she loved him. And, as I followed behind Pete’s car as he drove Rhion to God-knew-where, knowing he would kill her before ever giving her the money back, I prayed that Jude loved her too.

I charged out of Guardian, Apollo still talking in my ear, and went straight to the emergency stairs. My heart slammed against my ribs as my gut turned rancid. What the fuck had she been doing in the garage in the first place? She never left her apartment without me. As I ran down the stairs, I heard an entire percussion section’s worth of pounding behind me. Step for step. Never faltering. Never slowing. It wasn’t until I pushed through the final door to the garage that I realized Johnson, Lark, and Alex had followed me down. The angry snarls on their faces mirrored mine. The garage was empty, but a small trail of blood on the ground screamed so loudly that it was almost deafening. I froze, volcanic lava brewing inside me. I had no idea whether I could trust Apollo or not. He was known for his head games. And he could have very well been playing one with me now, but the only thing I knew for certain was that Apollo Park was never far from his sister. Climbing into my Jeep, all the guys piling in behind me, I barked, “Where the fuck are you?”

“Did you put something in that water?” I slurred to Pete as I weaved my way out onto the balcony of my father’s old office. I hadn’t been up there since Pete had shut the location down, having opted to run everything remotely from New York. It was freezing, but I was too numb to care. I should have been scared, considering I’d narrowly escaped my brother, Jude wasn’t anywhere in sight, and I now held the strong belief that I had been

drugged. But my sluggish mind was a little too slow on processing all the facts to allow my fear to kick in. “Just a little something to relax you after that horrible run-in with Apollo,” Pete said before taking another sip of the amber liquid he’d been holding against his swelling face since we’d arrived. I tsked. “You shouldn’t have done that. Jude is going to be piiiissed.” “I’m not terribly concerned with Jude, Rhion,” he snapped. I laughed and swayed toward the railing. “You should be. He’ll probably hit cha again. Make the other side of your face match what Apollo did to it.” I made an eek face. Though, if Pete’s glare was any indication, it wasn’t a good one. A knock at the door tore his attention off me. “Oh thank God,” he breathed. “Here. Hold this.” He placed his drink in my hand and rushed through the empty office to the door. There, a young guy in a bicycle helmet was holding a brown folder. “Please. Please come in. I just need to grab my wallet and you can be on your way,” Pete said, motioning him inside. The guy’s gaze jumped to me, and I offered him a friendly smile and a finger wave as a gust of wind hit me on the back, sending me stumbling forward several steps. I caught myself on the door and grinned proudly as I lifted Pete’s drink in his direction. “Look at that. I didn’t spill a drop.” Pete sighed and looked at the guy. “You’ll have to excuse, Rhion. She’s been drinking since we arrived.” “No, I haven’t!” I laughed. Bicycle dude flashed Pete an understanding smile. Whatever. What was the old saying? If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. I shrugged and tipped the glass up to my lips, gagging when the whiskey hit my tongue. Pete and the man—who I would like to note was wearing pants so tight that I assumed he had to have them surgically removed at the end of his messenger shift—both stared at me in disgust. “Anyway,” Pete said, handing the guy a wad of cash. “Thank you so much for your expedited service.” When Tight Pants McGee finally left, I offered Pete his glass back and asked, “How much longer until Jude gets here?” He waved the drink off and scoffed as he began rifling through the papers, haphazardly discarding them to the floor. “Never if I can help it.” “I told you to stop saying shit about…” I trailed off when a thought breached through the surface of my intoxicated fog. “Wait. Did you tell him we came here instead of the hotel?” He kept his head down as he started ripping pages in half. I walked over and snatched a paper from his hand, my tongue so thick that I could barely form the words. “Pete! Did you call him?” He looked up at me, his face dark and malevolent. It was more than an expression; it was as if his entire aura had changed. I stumbled back a step, nerves swirling in my stomach. “I want my phone back,” I rushed out. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “That’s not going to happen.” “W-what’s going on here?” I stammered as my pulse quickened. My loopy mind finally cottoned on that something was truly wrong. “Well…” he drawled. “I brought you here after the run-in with your brother, fearful that, if we went back to the hotel, he would follow us. You were a wreck, and while I had my back turned, you swiped my legally prescribed medication.” He revealed a pill bottle from his pocket and shook it in my direction. My eyes flashed wide as I stumbled back a step. And then back another because my feet couldn’t keep up with my body’s attempted retreat.

“Then…much like your poor mother, you chased it down with some alcohol. Surely you remember the rest.” He grinned and pointedly looked down to the drink in my hand. “I, of course, had no idea you took the pills. And the bike messenger can attest to the fact that you were drinking.” My mind was barely keeping up, but as a wave of understanding hit me, I suddenly couldn’t focus on anything else. Very slowly, I repeated, “I want my phone back.” “Sorry, sweetheart. You left it in the car.” He strolled toward me. I threw a hand up to stop him. “Bullshit. You left it in the car.” “That’s not what my driver will say.” A sick sense of betrayal began to spiral out of control until it finally broke me. Throwing the glass across the room and shattering it against the wall, I darted toward the door. Which, admittedly, wasn’t very fast, seeing as my legs felt as though they had been filled with lead. He ducked and covered his head to avoid the falling glass, and then an unlikely laugh sprang from his throat as he stepped in front of the door. “Ah, yes. And then you became violent after seeing the lackluster business earnings from last year.” He waved a hand at the papers on the floor. “You always did have your father’s temper. Sandy will attest to that.” I blinked as my heart came to a screeching halt. “Sandy?” With a disturbing smile and a more frightening laugh, he said, “Money is a powerful motivator, Rhion.” “Oh God.” I covered my mouth. “Oh, sweet, naïve girl. You seriously thought Sandy cared about you?” Every disgusting word felt like the tip of a knife dragging over my skin. He continued. “Now, the good news is your will has been on file since before the fire, so no red flags there.” I hadn’t had a will before the fire. I’d been twenty-two years old, with nothing but a closet full of clothes, and for the six weeks after my father had died, I had been grieving. A will had been very low on my list of priorities. It wasn’t until after the fire that I made one, and only so Apollo wouldn’t get anything if something happened to me. “You…you started the fire.” He laughed and placed his hand over his heart. “Me? No. But I happen to know a fantastic arsonist should you ever need one.” He winked. “So, as you can imagine, Jude Levitt has been a pain in my ass since long before he was trying to get in your pants. But, luckily, it all worked out. Seeing as how you gave me everything anyway.” I swallowed hard and shook my head with vigor, my vision trailing half a second behind. “I only gave you control,” I choked out. “You should really read things before you sign them, Rhion. It’s just a good business practice.” With long, malicious strides, he marched toward me. “You didn’t actually think I’d spent my entire life kissing your father’s ass to walk away with nothing? I’ll be damned if I’m giving it back now.” “Wait! Stop!” I cried. I kept shuffling backward, my arms outstretched—the only barrier I was able to use to protect myself. My foot hit the threshold to the balcony and I stumbled, but I somehow managed to right myself before hitting the ground. Pete continued to advance on me, and seconds later, pain exploded in my spine as he rammed me into the railing.

“There he is!” I growled, pointing at Apollo, who was standing in an empty parking lot, smoking a cigarette. My car hadn’t even come to a stop before Johnson slung his door open and jumped out, aggressive steps carrying him over to Rhion’s brother. After throwing my car into park, I wasn’t but a second behind him. My heart had been in my throat the entire drive over. I’d alternated between all-consuming fury and paralyzing panic. The two emotions had shifted so rapidly that they’d often overlapped. As we’d driven, Alex had been on the phone with the police while they mobilized local law enforcement in search of Pete’s car based on the description Leo had gotten off the security footage from the garage. Meanwhile, Lark had sat on the phone with Leo’s brother-in-law, Caleb Jones, a detective with the Chicago police department, and given him everything we knew about Apollo. We still had no idea whose side we were on, but none of us were willing to trust either party in this equation. All we knew was that neither Rhion nor Pete was answering their phones and Apollo had followed them to an empty building on the edge of the city. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Apollo yelled as Johnson stormed toward him, every step heavier than the last. “I will fucking kill you if this is one of your games,” he rumbled, snatching him by the front of his Tshirt and shoving a finger in his face. Busting it up between the two of them, I pushed Johnson out of the way, but only so I could get my own hands on the kid. “You got me here. Now, where is she?” “They’re up there. If you give it a second, you can see her pacing the balcony. Top corner office used to be my dad’s. A bike messenger just left. It appears the building isn’t locked.” I gave him a hard shake before releasing him to look up at the building. Using my hand to shield my eyes from the sun, I stared up, desperately searching for a single glance of the fiery tips on her blond hair. But it wasn’t the sight of her that made time stop. “No!” Her shrill voice echoed off the building and the pavement. I sucked in a deep breath, and it felt like acid was coating the inside of my throat when I caught sight of her folded backwards over the railing, her hair whipping in the wind behind her. There was no smoke. No burning house. No fire at all. But the sight of my Butterfly teetering on the edge, barely clinging to life, was more than enough to send me up in flames. Every muscle in my body began to hum as something inside me exploded. All at once, we took off. Johnson and I were shoulder-to-shoulder at the front of the pack, Lark and Alex behind us, Apollo bringing up the rear. “We’ll take the stairs,” Johnson barked at me. “Alex, Lark, take Apollo and hit the elevator.” My legs never slowed as I snatched the emergency stairwell open, taking the steps two by two. My heart was racing and my lungs began protesting the higher we got, but I would have had to drop dead before I gave them any respite. I pushed myself harder. Faster. Visions of fiery butterflies flashed behind my lids, fueling me with

every step. When we finally reached the tenth floor, I stopped as Johnson shoved through the final door. Pete wasn’t stupid. The door was going to be locked and we’d have no way in. It was going to take precious moments to get through it. Kicking a door down wasn’t as easy as they made it look in the movies. I had faith that the five of us could do it—eventually. But, much like the first time I’d tried to save Rhion, I didn’t have time to wait for eventually. For reasons I’d never be able to explain, my mind drifted back to that night of the fire. Drawing in a smoke-filled breath, I made a decision that would haunt me for the rest of my life. “You need to climb up to the roof.” “I can’t!” she shrieked. My stomach twisted, but I gentled my voice. “Look, I know you’re scared. But I’m right here. I’ll help guide you up, but, sweetheart, it’s bearing down on you. You gotta move, and I mean now.” Rhion would probably claim it was fate. And, as long as she was alive, I’d let her call it whatever she wanted. “Keep him distracted,” I said to Johnson as I rounded the corner to the very last flight of stairs.

And just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse. I was barely holding on to the man I considered a father, who was apparently trying to kill me for the second time, when I heard his voice. Not Jude. Not Johnson. Not the police. Not even Tight Pants McGee. My brother. My. Fucking. Brother. Probably there on standby to light my body on fire when Pete had finished with me. “Get your fucking hands off her!” Apollo screamed, pounding at the door. My heart was already working overtime. Adrenaline was burning through the mental effects of whatever Pete had used to drug me, but my sluggish body was slower to snap out of it. Either that or the fifty-seven-year-old man had been putting in some serious time at the gym, because no matter how hard I fought, I couldn’t get out of his grasp. And slowly, inch by inch, he was overpowering me. However, I refused to give up. And not just because a human’s natural instinct was to fight for survival. But because I wanted to live. I wanted the life I’d been promised I’d have only hours earlier. A ring on my finger. Little green-eyed babies. Rocking chairs. Jude.

No one. Not some expensive arsonist. Not Pete. Not Apollo. Was going to take that away from me. Though, as my toes started slipping and my center of gravity came closer and closer to being forced over the railing, I feared that it was no longer in my control. I needed a hero. I needed Jude. But this wasn’t like the last time. There was no silent alarm going off. Jude probably didn’t know I was missing. And, even if he had figured out what had happened in the garage, he’d assume I was safe with Pete. No, this time, I was on my own. Pete growled as I clawed at his face, giving it all I had left in me. “Let. Me. Go!” I choked out as the ground disappeared below my feet and the edge of the railing bit into my butt. Only a few more inches and I wouldn’t be able to hold on any longer. My brother’s voice screamed in the background, the sound of the wood splintering on the door scaring me almost as much as the cool, empty air at my back. I gave up on my fight and frantically began clinging to Pete’s shirt and shoulders. I did my best to hook my legs around him for leverage, but I was going down. Fast. With the cold wind whipping all around me, more air than railing, I screwed my eyes shut and sent up one last plea to the universe. I’d been saved from the claws of death once. Maybe… “Butterfly.” Hope exploded in my chest as I popped my eyes open. Jude. Standing like a goddamn superhero on the edge of the roof only one floor above us staring down. His eyes blazing with primal rage. I blinked. He wasn’t real. No way. But the possibility of him being there enabled me to keep holding on. Pete kept his fight up, trying to forcefully remove my hands from his shirt. And I kept mine up, my fingers becoming numb from squeezing so tight. My pulse skyrocketed as I caught sight of the figment of my imagination swiftly lowering himself and then dropping to his feet beside us onto the balcony. “What the fuck…” was all Pete got out before he suddenly disappeared. I saw it happen, yet I still couldn’t believe it. Jude grabbed my arm at the same time he wrapped his bicep around Pete’s neck. The ground reappeared beneath my feet as Jude swept his leg out, sending Pete crashing down hard. I couldn’t move. I wasn’t even sure I was breathing when Jude shoved a knee into his back and twisted Pete’s arm behind him. It felt like a dream, whispers of details my brain had made up as I plummeted to my death. This was proven when I heard a loud bang and looked up. The broken door swung open and Apollo stormed in with Johnson, Alex, and Lark—and they weren’t even carrying his lifeless body. Definitely not real. “Oh God,” I cried, sinking down to the ground and wrapping my arms around my legs. “I’m dead.” Johnson moved straight to Pete and lifted him off the ground only to slam him back down. Jude’s muscular body suddenly filled my vision as he squatted in front of me. “Rhion,” he whispered. Tears streamed down my face and off my chin as I looked up at him. “Are…” I croaked. After

clearing my throat, I finished with, “Are you real?” A slow smile pulled at his lips as he replied, “I am. And so are you, my beautiful Butterfly.” A sob tore from my throat. “Oh God, you’re not. The real Jude would never say that.” He chuckled and dragged me into his arms. “He does now.” I blinked. And then blinked again. But he never disappeared. “This can’t be real,” I whispered against his neck. “It’s real, Rhion,” he replied with a tight squeeze. “It has to be a dream. Pete just tried to kill me. Apollo is here and he has hasn’t tried to kill me. And you appeared out of thin air on a roof seconds before I fell. This definitely isn’t real, Jude.” His arms spasmed around me as he breathed in deeply, his chest expanding between us to bring our upper bodies flush. And then Jude proved he was better than any version of him I could ever write. “I only said it was real, Butterfly. I never said it wasn’t a dream.”



“You son of a bitch!” Rhion screamed as she dove across the Guardian dining room table after her brother. “Little help, guys?” Apollo called out as most of the crew stood around watching them, a smile on our faces. Mine was a mask for the emotional upheaval going on in my chest, and I suspected that Johnson’s was too. My pulse had slowed and the adrenaline was ebbing from my system, but I didn’t think I’d ever be able to calm down again. I’d never forget seeing her on the ledge the night of the fire. It had haunted me for years. But the moment I had seen her on that balcony, so perilously close to going over, I had known that, if she fell, I’d never be able to close my eyes again. Not to blink, and certainly not to sleep. If she fell, I was going down with her. Luckily—or, as Rhion liked to say, as fate would have it—I’d gotten there in time. But having saved her didn’t feel like redemption for the night of the fire. Not all scars faded with time. During that brief second when I’d stared down at her, my Butterfly fighting a monster off, I’d finally realized that not all scars were bad. Without mine, I never would have met her. That crazy, crazy woman who had lit my life up in a million shades of vibrant color. And, for that alone, the moment I’d gotten her safe, I’d made my peace with the past. “I did it for you!” Apollo yelled, dodging Rhion’s tiny flying fists. “You scared the shit out of me for two damn years.” “Yes, and it was time consuming. I’m looking forward to a vacation.” It could be said that either Apollo had a death wish or he wasn’t the brightest crayon in the Park family box, because he’d been goading Rhion for over twenty minutes with shit like that. But, if his wide grin or her twitching lips were any indication, it was only pent-up sibling torment they needed to work out of their systems. “Gah!” she huffed, diving back after him. Shaking my head, I looped an arm around her hips and lifted her off her feet. “Okay, Ronda Rousey. It’s been a long day. Let’s save the fight club for another night.” She turned her angry scowl on me, but when I smirked and arched an eyebrow, it transformed into a glowing smile. After the police had hauled Pete off, an ambulance had come for Rhion. We had no idea what kind of drugs Pete had given her, and while she seemed to be snapping out of it, I wasn’t taking any chances. Bruises covered her body, and it terrified me to think of what could have been

going on inside. A few-dozen blood tests later, she was given a clean bill of health and we were on our way before the sun had set. Apollo was waiting for us at Guardian, and while I wanted to lock her away in her apartment for a month, Rhion wanted to talk to her brother. It wasn’t an easy conversation for anyone, and Apollo asked if they could talk in private, but there was no fucking way I was leaving her side. Good guy or bad—I didn’t trust anyone with Rhion anymore. Rhion cried as he recounted the things Pete had done to him as a kid. I didn’t even know Apollo, but it was all I could not to drive down to the jail and destroy Peter Higgins. “Tell Apollo goodnight and let’s go home,” I ordered. “Fine,” she said to me before swinging a glare to her brother. “But this is not over.” He shrugged and then looked around the room. “Anyone want to go for a beer?” Johnson took a step toward him, cupped him on the shoulder, and gave him a hard shove toward the door. “I wouldn’t press your luck, kid. Just because none of us have decapitated you doesn’t mean we don’t still have the thirst for your blood.” Rhion giggled as Johnson hauled him to the door, but before they made it out, she called out, “Thanks, Apollo.” His smile widened, but his eyes filled with regret. “Anything for you, Rhion.” Her body sagged as she pressed into my side, never tearing her gaze off his back until the door had closed behind him. “You okay?” I murmured into the top of her hair. “Surreal,” she whispered back. And right then, four years after the night that had nearly ruined us both, with her tucked in my arms, an entire future ahead of us, I couldn’t say she was wrong.

Two years later…

“You look beautiful,” Jude whispered in my ear as we swayed together on the dance floor, waves crashing on the beach behind us. I was. I knew that much. I’d spend six hours getting dressed. Two hair stylists. A makeup artist. A sleek, white backless gown complete with thousands of tiny, red crystals streaming up from the bottom. The most incredible black-and-red heels that had ever been made. But it was Jude’s wedding ring on my finger that made it all pop. Beautiful wasn’t a strong enough word. “I know,” I whispered back, my smile so huge that it was almost painful. For the first few days after Jude had saved me—a second time—I had done a damn fine job at keeping my shit together. I hadn’t missed Jude’s wary glances. He’d been worried. And rightly so. I’d been through hell. But the world had kept spinning. Pete was facing a plethora of charges, and Sandy had been arrested at her home in New York after my so-called will had been recovered from Pete’s office, her name on the bottom line as a witness. She wasn’t even to the police station before she’d flipped on him, revealing everything from the name of the man Pete had paid to set the fire all the way to the attorneys he’d used to swindle my father’s estate from me. It wasn’t until four days later, on Christmas morning, when the reality of it all crashed down on me. There would be no phone calls or visits from the people I’d considered my family for so long. I’d lost not only my real parents, but my surrogates as well. I was in the process of shattering all the pictures I had of them when Jude stopped me. Wrapping me in a bear hug, he’d whispered into my ear, “Breaking them won’t erase the past, Butterfly. All we can do is fill the frames with new pictures. New memories.” He was right, but I still cried for most of the day. Around five that afternoon, the men of Guardian flooded into my apartment, along with Apollo and Sarah’s sister, Emma, a local photographer. I looked like death with swollen eyes and a puffy face in every one of those pictures. But, the next day, I’d grinned like a maniac as Jude had hung them around our apartment. Peering up at my husband, I smiled at the memory and slid my hand up the back of his neck to trace my fingers over his scars. He smiled; the pain and torture that used to paint his face at my touch had long since vanished. They weren’t his scars anymore. They were ours. Together. “You want to see something interesting?” Jude asked, his eyes flashing over my shoulder. “Depends. Is it something sexy interesting?” I asked. “Not for you,” he replied. He turned us in step with the music until I saw Braydon and Katie standing around the bar, only inches

separating their bodies. Her cheeks were bright red, and his smile was aimed at the ground, her shoes dangling off the tips of his fingers. “Oh hell,” I breathed. “That is not going to end well.” Jude chuckled. “You never know. I thought the same thing about Alex and Brianna.” “Where are they anyway?” I twisted to the tables flanking each side of the dance floor but never found my maid of honor or her boyfriend. “Probably having sex on our bed.” “Ew… Hopefully they at least use one of the guest rooms.” “I put a fucking padlock on Val’s room.” I patted his chest. “Smart man.” Apollo appeared beside us, asking, “Mind if I cut in?” “Actually, I fucking do,” Jude grumbled, and I rolled my eyes. He was so overprotective. Apollo had been back in my life for the last two years, but I suspected that Jude would never trust him completely. For that matter, I wasn’t sure he would ever trust anyone with me. Only a few hours earlier, he’d given Johnson the evil eye as he’d walked me down the sandy aisle. “Next song,” I told Apollo, not yet ready to let my man go. He lifted his hands in surrender and slowly backed away, a giant smile splitting his lips. It had taken me a while to realize that, though I’d lost part of my family, what I’d gained was so much more. Once the remnants of my father’s money had been returned to me, I’d promptly liquidated everything Pete had ever touched and given Apollo his fair share. A part of me feared I’d never see him again after the funds were transferred. But, much to my surprise, his first big purchase was to buy Murphy’s bar directly across the street from my building. He’d been living in the apartment above it for a few years, and he said that it felt like home. While my relationship with Apollo literally changed overnight, it was a long time before the wounds of our past healed. It was a slow and rigorous process for us both. As to be expected, I became shy in the trust department. Apollo had a lot of demons to beat down, and I wasn’t real keen about being in the line of fire while he was doing it. But we had grown closer with every day that passed. “What time does Val have to go back?” I asked, plastering myself against Jude. “April said she could stay the night.” His hand drifted down to my ass, and he dipped low so his lips were at my ear. “But I’d really like to have some time alone with you, preferably out of this dress.” My cheeks flashed pink. “You’ll have me alone for ten days in Bermuda. Let’s spend some time with her while we have the chance.” He groaned but then relented. “You’re right. Besides, she has to sleep at some point, right?” He winked. I cocked an eyebrow. “Are you proposing stealthy three a.m. wedding night sex?” His lips twitched with mischief. “It’s probably going to be closer to one a.m. I’m not sure I’ll make it to three.” While we still lived in our apartment in Chicago, we visited the beach house and Val every chance we got. April was still a bitch, but after years of dealing with Margaret Spencer, I’d become something of a bitch whisperer. It was amazing how drastically someone’s tune changed when they’d been offered free rein of a house in the Hamptons, a lodge in Aspen, and a penthouse in New York. I thought a vein on Jude’s forehead was going to rupture when he’d heard me offer them to her. However, two years later, she’d never once given Jude any trouble about getting Val for a weekend. “All right, Levitt. Quit hogging the bride,” Leo said, not even giving Jude a chance to reply before dragging me into his arms.

Jude glared, the twitch of his lips giving his humor away. “Make yourself useful and get us some champagne while I give your wife a whirl on the dance floor.” Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Wife. It would never get old. “Right,” Jude replied in a bored tone before pecking me on the top of my head and then begrudgingly wandering away. “Perks of being the boss,” Leo mumbled. I tore my gaze off Jude’s back and asked, “What’s that?” “They can’t tell me no. That man wanted to let you go as much as he wants an appendectomy.” He lifted his chin to a table on the far side of the room. “Besides, I think Johnson’s been biding his time, waiting for a turn.” I turned, and sure enough, Aidan was sitting alone at the table closest to the dance floor, a nearly empty drink in his hand, his dark gaze leveled on me, an unreadable emotion carved into his features. “Is he okay?” I asked, concern washing over me. I lost sight of him as Leo twirled me under his arm. “I’ve got a confession,” Leo said. Glancing over my shoulder, I tried to keep Johnson in my sights, but my dance partner was making it next to impossible. Leo’s voice dropped to a whisper as he announced, “I read your books.” This wasn’t a surprise. While my Burning Love series would forever stay hidden on my book shelf, I’d published three new titles over the last year. Sales were nothing to brag about. I think I sold twentyseven copies the first day, which coincidentally was the exact number of Guardian employees, but whatever. My sense of accomplishment that day wasn’t about the numbers. It was about finally being free. I’d been in hiding for too long, having allowed my fears to control me. But, in that moment, my finger poised over the magical publish button, Jude sitting beside me, a smile on his face, pride beaming in his eyes, and excitement fluttering in my stomach, I knew I was one click away from living my dream. Laughing, I replied to Leo, “I didn’t peg you as a romance kind of guy.” “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Rhion. It’s seems I’m really fucking good at romance.” He moved his hand from my back and pointed to Sarah, who was laughing with Lark and his wife. “See, a while back, I met a woman who showed me that, sometimes, two broken pieces can form a whole. And you, my friend, were about as broken as they came. So, after stealing and reading one of your books, I hired who I hoped could be your other piece.” “What?” I gasped, my feet becoming rooted to the floor, chills pebbling my skin. Oh. My. God. “Now, now. Don’t get all emotional on me,” Leo whispered. Yeah, right. Like that wasn’t going to happen. “You…you hired him for me?” “No,” he replied, his hands falling away from my back as the song came to an end. “I hired him because he came with an outstanding reference from his old boss. Though I did hire him without so much as an interview for you.” The corner of his mouth popped up into a crooked grin. “Gotta say, babe, I never expected you’d actually marry the guy. I figured, realistically, you’d get over your obsession with him and finally open yourself up to someone else. My bet was on Devon.” I curled my lip. Not that Devon wasn’t an attractive man, but the idea of being with him was right up there with putting the moves on Apollo. Leo chuckled and pulled me in for a hug. “But I’m pleased as fuck to see both of you whole again. Married or not. You’re Guardian, Rhion. We take care of our own.” Tears welled in my eyes as I returned his embrace. I’d spent a lot of years feeling alone inside that apartment before Jude had shown up, but as it turned out, my true family had been just upstairs the entire time.

“Thanks, Leo,” I breathed. He released me and shoved his hands into his pockets. “If at all possible, let’s keep this quiet. Word gets out that I was pullin’ a Cupid, it’s gonna be difficult to maintain the hardass reputation I’ve made for myself.” “Mum’s the word.” I laughed and made a show of zipping my lips then throwing the key away. Leo twirled me once more before kissing my cheek. “Looks like there’s a line forming.” My gaze found Johnson as he stood behind Leo, impatiently waiting for his turn with me. I’d almost made my way into his arms when Jude stepped in front of him, a glass of champagne in each hand. After tossing a smug smile over his shoulder, he declared, “I’m done sharing.” “Jude!” I halfheartedly scolded, slapping him on the chest. He smirked and handed the glasses off to Leo and Johnson. “I’ve shared you with the guys enough tonight. They’ll survive awhile longer without you.” He leaned toward me, gripping my hips, and rasped, “After watching your ass in that dress, I’m not sure I can say the same.” I giggled and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. “I can’t believe today is almost over,” I said, pressing my cheek to his chest, his strong heart playing a staccato rhythm in my ear as I watched the waves roll in. “Yeah, but we’re just beginning, Rhion. We’ve got the ring part taken care of, but give me a few years and we’ll start on babies and rocking chairs.” I sighed, and my heart swelled. “You’re real.” His chest rumbled before he said the words I’d never tire of hearing. “I love you too, Butterfly.” THE END

Other Books by Aly Martinez The Retrieval Duet Retrieval Transfer The Fall Up The Spiral Down The Wrecked and Ruined Series Changing Course Stolen Course Broken Course Among the Echoes On the Ropes Fighting Silence Fighting Shadows Fighting Solitude Savor Me

Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side. After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life. Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads