His Naughty Intern - Lola Darling

HIS NAUGHTY INTERN

LOLA DARLING

LOLA DARLING BOOKS

CONTENTS Author Note Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Scandalous Introducing Roxy Sloane 1.

Jase

2. Chloe 3. Jase About the Author Also by Lola Darling

Copyright © 2016 by Lola Darling All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Cover: Mayhem Cover Creations

Author Note This book was previously published as THE HOTEL SERIES. It’s been repackaged with a sexy new look, and a sneak peek of my new book SCANDALOUS. I hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE

“I look like a slut.” I stare at my reflection in horror – and a little awe.

“You’re the prettiest slut I’ve ever seen.” My cousin Callie gives a wink in the mirror, working a flat iron through my hair. “I don’t know…” My stomach is already in knots thinking about the night ahead of me. Callie squirts hair shine on her hands and rubs it between her palms. It smells like coconut and expensive salon. “Just trust me, Juliet,” she says, then coughs with enough force to produce a loud wheeze. “Go lie down,” I order her, then give her a gentle nudge towards her bed. Our other roommate, Emily, enters with a steaming mug of something. “Drink this,” she adds, handing Callie the mug. Callie sniffs and wrinkles her nose. “What is it?” “My grandmother’s recipe. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.” Callie collapses with a groan – which quickly turns into another round of hacking coughs. Emily pulls me back, worried. “Don’t get Juliet sick! She starts her internship tomorrow.” Just the mention of it makes me even more nervous. How I landed an internship placement at the most prestigious historic hotel in Chicago is still surreal. I start tomorrow… After I go play hooker tonight. Not hooker, I correct myself quickly. Bait. Nerves start a dance inside my stomach. My face must betray something because Emily claps her hands together. “You have nothing to worry about. You look amazing. Your hair… It’s so shiny!” I touch it again, smoothing my fingers down the long strands and my mouth hangs open a little bit. Because, damn. My hair is never straight, or smooth, or anything but a hot mess. I blame my Irish ancestors. The women in my lineage weren’t the sleek, dark and sexy Celts you always see in movies, but rather, the ‘carry water and build stone walls’ kind that gifted me with a head of coarse, thick and unruly auburn hair. Usually, I couldn’t care less: I just pull it back in a braid or ponytail and forget about it.

But not tonight. Tonight, I’m full on shampoo-model, because-I’m-worth-it hot. And I need to be, thanks to Miss Sick Day currently hacking her lungs up in bed. Callie works as a decoy for a private investigator. She gets people to talk, incriminate themselves or otherwise display some kind of asshole behavior that can be caught on tape and used in court. She loves the excitement of it, and she’s cut out for it with a svelte body and the sleek beauty that promises seduction. Small talk and flirting come naturally to her. And while she’s working her magic, a hidden photographer takes pictures or video of the whole thing. I’m the woman who’s been so invested in earning her hospitality management degree, she forgets to put on deodorant some days. But with Callie laid up in bed, she needs someone to fill in on a job tonight. And since she’s been letting me stay here on a way reduced rent while I work my way through school, I couldn’t really turn her down. I check my reflection again, nervous. Callie has turned me into a pretty slut, just like she said. Smoky makeup sets off the green in my hazel eyes, the shimmer pink on my cheeks accentuating my heart shaped face. My lips are glossy red and look plumper than usual. “Now put on the dress,” Callie orders, still bossy even from bed. “I told you, blue isn’t my color…” I hesitate. “And I told you, it’s peacock, not blue.” “Big difference.” “Here.” Emily holds it up eagerly. “I picked out shoes and jewelry too.” I take them with a sigh. “I don’t know why you couldn’t do this instead of me.” Emily’s eyes widen in horror. “Go flirt with some strange guy in a bar? No way!” She shudders. “Besides, they would never hit on me in the first place.” “That’s a lie and you know it,” I tell her, but Emily shakes her head stubbornly. She’s the sweetest girl in the world, but not exactly giving Kanye a run for his money in the confidence game. She prefers to spend her nights working late at her jewelry studio, creating amazing designs. But Emily isn’t the only one worried about attracting men tonight. I’ve got serious doubts about my ability as bait. I’m not anti-social. I’m just not good at flirting. Or handling myself around sleazy men without biting their heads off. In my mind, the guy I’m targeting tonight is just another grease ball, out to find the first hot, willing chick he can get his dick into. In order for the gig to work, that chick has to be me. Only with no dick-sticking. I shed my sweats and tee-shirt and reach for the dress. “Not so fast,” Callie stops me and points to the chair beneath the window. A brand new bra and panty set are laid out, both a pretty cream color, the bra with lacy cups and satin straps. The bra is push up, not that I need it. I’ve been blessed with a lot going on up top, but when I ditch my old bra for the new one, I’m immediately glad it has the little gel support pads inside.

Because, damn again. “Don’t look at my ass,” I warn them as I change into the panties, and then step into the dress. Callie whistles behind me before I’ve finished smoothing the satiny fabric and I twirl because I can’t help it. The V-neck top is deep, showing off the inside swell of my breasts and creating a sexy valley of cleavage. The wrap top snugs my waist while the skirt shimmies over my full hips, the hem swishing midthigh. It’s perfect for an hourglass figure like mine. Emily squeals. “You look hot.” And with their help, I do. The dress is conforming and revealing and… well, the sexiest thing I’ve had on in forever. I wear jeans and baggy shirts to class. Pretty much the same on the weekends. Except tonight. Oh, God. Callie’s phone buzzes. “Okay, Jules, you’re up. The target checked in at The Drake a half hour ago.” She throws off the covers and comes over, gripping my shoulders in her hands. I give her a dubious look, hoping she isn’t spreading her germs all over me. She eyes me like a coach about to give a pep talk. “Listen, Juliet. It’ll be easy; I swear. Text Rob when you get there and he’ll tell you where to meet, and where to intercept the target. Make small talk. One look and he’ll be interested, I promise—you look so good—he’ll make a couple passes at you, Rob will snap a few pics and you’ll be done. Easy.” Panic sets in. I’m a confident woman, sure. I’m smart. I read, a lot. Put me in a classroom and I can talk my way through a debate like no one’s business. But this? “You’re doing me a huge favor,” Callie says, like she’s reading my mind – and the fact that I want to bolt. “I can’t lose this job, and I promise I’ll owe you forever.” She coughs and I can’t tell if it’s real or if it’s a guilt-cough. Either way, her face is pale but her cheeks are flushed and her eyes have that glossy-fever glaze. I soften. She’s done enough favors for me in our time, the least I can do is help her out with this. I tuck a limp lock of her hair behind her ear. “I’ve got it, Callie. No worries. Just get better.” Emily pushes me out the door with a final good luck hug, and then I’m on my own. Luckily The Drake isn’t far, and double luck it’s one of my favorite hotels in the city. My dad always had a thing for Chicago’s early architecture, and when I was younger we’d spend countless hours touring remnants of the city’s past. From the time I could first appreciate Chicago School style and pick out the neo-classic revival scattered throughout the city, he and I bonded while poring over old photos and documents showcasing early buildings. Now that he’s gone, visiting some of our favorite cornices and columns helps me feel like a part of him is still here, watching over me. It’s no wonder I followed my heart into hospitality management. Stepping

through the doors of a luxurious hotel is like stepping into another time, another place, where you can be anyone and nothing is out of reach. I always wanted to be a part of creating that fantasy, and tomorrow morning, I finally get my chance. After months of class work and papers, I’ll be starting an internship at one of the best hotels in the city. It’s a competitive course, and I beat out dozens of applicants to make the grade. I know my dad would be proud. The cab pulls up to the hotel. A valet greets me immediately, forcing my trepidation away as I get out and wrap my fingers around my gold clutch, and pray, pray, pray that I don’t trip and fall on my face or something equally ridiculous. My phone beeps with a message from Rob to meet just inside the lobby. I’ve met him once before, and he seems like a decent guy considering his sole job is to hang around taking incriminating photos. I step beneath The Drake’s famous illuminated banner canopy and through the gleaming glass doors. People mill about the marble lobby, and I take a second to breathe the opulence in. Goosebumps prickle my forearms. I can’t help it. The rich blue carpet beneath my feet sets the stage for a room glittering with elegance. “Juliet, darling.” Someone touches my back. Rob smiles, his tanned skin highlighting the perfect white of his teeth. He leans close as if we’re well acquainted, part of the act, I suppose, and I follow along, leaning into him and putting a smile on my face. “You look lovely. Just perfect. Here’s how we do this. The target is in Coq d’Or.” He leads me in the direction of the famous whiskey bar, and I’m so nervous I have to concentrate to hear Rob over the rush of my own pulse in my ears. “Second stool to the last on the right. Gray Armani suit. Brown hair.” Rob continues, nodding across the room. “Get cozy. As cozy as you’re comfortable with. A kiss seals the deal, usually, so… Callie does her best to get him to attempt it, anyway.” “A kiss?” I gulp. Callie never said anything about kissing. “It never goes farther, hon,” Rob reassures me. “His hand on your knee, leaning in to whisper in your ear. Any of that. Look, just do your thing. I’ll text you as soon as I have what I need, and we’re out of here.” I swallow and nod. Rob nudges me. “I’ve been hovering around that empty seat next to him, so hurry over there before some skank grabs it. I’ll be right back here.” He indicates an empty table in the back. It’s somewhat shadowed, perfect for him to snap his evidence. Running a hand down my hair, I square my shoulders and take quick steps towards the bar. Nope, too quick. I’ll face plant at this rate, and that’s no way to make a first impression. With a breath, I slow my steps, focusing on the feel of the dress swirling around my bare legs, how my breasts bounce a little as I walk in the nude kitten heels. Sexy. Confident. It’s like playing a part, I decide. Acting in a play. I just have to pretend to be the kind of girl who picks up men in bars. Easy. I slide onto the stool beside the target and set my clutch on the bar. Then I

glance over for the first time at the man I’m supposed to entice. He’s hot. Not just hot, but smoldering. Oh shit. My insides flip. I wasn’t prepared for hotness. He’s facing away from me and I can only see his profile: rich brown hair, a strong jaw, and the kind of sexy, arrogant expression that makes me think of one of those guys in a British costume drama: the kind with a massive country estate who looks great wading out of a lake.

TONIGHT, he’s all alone, sipping something that looks like whiskey. I look away, wanting to stay casual, but when I glance back, he’s looking straight at me. My heart slams into my chest. His blue eyes are cool, assessing. His suit is clearly tailor-made, or just expensive as hell, and the white button down molds to his muscular torso like threads of the gods.

I DON’T DARE LOOK down to see how his pants fit. He turns away and so do I, my cheeks burning as I grapple for something to say. Not that it matters, really. Not with the way he looked at me just now, like I was uninteresting, mundane, plain, not worth a spark of interest. I reach for my clutch, wondering if I should give up and leave right now, when suddenly, fingers brush over the back of my hand. “What’s your pleasure?” My stomach clenches and my pulse quickens. Am I really going to do this?

CHAPTER TWO

“Highland scotch,” I say as naturally as I can with my head spinning and my

heart pounding fast. I’ve ordered scotch before but never under the gaze of a man like this. My skin tingles as I catch his denim blue eyes, seeing a flash of interest now at my order. Damn, those are great eyes. The kind that wouldn’t break a stare for a moment, not even if he was naked, that chiseled body bearing down on mine, my legs wrapped tight around his waist, my mouth exploring the dip of his collarbone— The bartender arrives, jerking me back to reality. He places a glass in front of me, and I realize that while I was having dirty sex with the target in my head, he went ahead and ordered for me. “Glenmorangie,” he says. His eyes are crinkling at the corners as if he’s amused. Then he raises his glass slightly, and I do the same, trying to hide my shaking hand. I forget to smell the scotch first, because who cares, I just need the whiskey in me, so I take a sip. It coats my tongue with silken fire, both dry and sweet as it slides down my throat. We set our glasses down at the same time, and I notice the sharpness of his suit, how well tailored it is. The cuff sits perfectly on his wrist, the peek of a silver cufflink making me squirm on my seat. His persona speaks precision and control, while he wears an aura of raw sexuality like a second skin. If he snapped his fingers and told me to drop to my knees, I’d probably do it without an ounce of forethought. “Thank you,” I manage before hastily taking another sip and willing it to boost my flirting IQ by a few hundred points. Even though I need to lead him on, I need to be mindful of my response to him so I don’t get in over my head. His gaze falls to my necklace. It’s one of Emily’s designs, distinctive gold wire twisting around my collarbone and falling in a delicate chain to a single pearl drop that sits between my breasts. My skin tingles and I think he might reach out and touch me. He doesn’t. “My pleasure….” He pauses, waiting for my name. I think fast because I have no idea if I’m supposed to give him my real identity or not. “Julie.”

He shakes my hand. He has long, firm fingers, but I feel a callous or two, which completely contradicts his suit. One screams wealth and power, but the slide of his roughed palm says otherwise. “And you are?” I ask, remembering a flirty smile. His eyes narrow and he pauses, almost as if he’s waiting for me to say something… acknowledge him maybe. I realize that he looks a little familiar, but I can’t place him. The amount of well-dressed, sexy and powerful men I run into on a daily basis amounts to zero, so I’m sure I’d recall if we’d met before. “Andrew.” He cocks an eyebrow and his hand is slow to fall away. Mine too, and when I do let go, my fingers feel cool and empty. He doesn’t look like an Andrew, and I’m sure he’s fudging his name the same as me. Keeping my smile friendly, I ponder just how to go about this flirting thing. Clearly, Andrew doesn’t share my problem. He fixes me with a smile. “Meeting someone tonight?” I give him the cover story Callie coached me with. Men don’t want an easy target, so it’s best to seem like meeting is an accident. “Actually, my friend and I were going to meet for drinks, but she can’t make it now.” I try to look disappointed. “I like that you came anyway.” He tilts his head and I have the impression he’s sizing me up. “I think people forget how to do things alone.” “Me too,” I agree, leaning toward him despite my still-very-present nerves. “My friends would never go to a movie or dinner alone, but I like it. It gives me a chance to relax on my own, let my thoughts wander. Stop worrying about my game face.” He smiles and I feel my nerves start to calm a little. Maybe I’ll be able to pull this off after all. “You mean you don’t just want to be glued to your cell phone all the time?” Andrew nods over to the corner, where a man and woman are sharing a table – both of them ignoring each other to stare at their cell phone screens. Andrew and I share an amused look. “Not me,” I laugh. “I’m so behind with technology, I was still using one of those old-fashioned flip-phones, right up until I accidentally dropped it in the tub!” He smiles again. “So you like to think, and aren’t obsessed with taking selfies all day. Who are you, and what planet are you from?” he teases, leaning closer. His fingers brush against mine on the bar. I feel a rush of heat, unsettling me. “What about you?” I ask, changing the subject. “Is that why you’re here tonight: you need some time to think?” Andrew pauses, before meeting my eyes. “Actually, I’m more a man of action.” Oh really. I lower my eyes, feeling my cheeks burn, catching a glimpse of his bulging thigh and the length of his leg before sliding my gaze back to his. My pulse ticks up hard enough to make me nearly forget what I was about to say. “Well.” I try and pull it together. Focus on the assignment. “I’m glad we stumbled onto each other. I was hoping to celebrate a bit tonight, and that’s not

much fun… alone.” As recoveries go, that was pretty good. Considering the innuendo, that, once out of my mouth, didn’t feel scandalous. It was… honest. Given the chance to drink alone or have Andrew’s hands down my pants, the salacious part of me would choose hands. “And what is the occasion for celebration?” He leans towards me, leaving mere inches between us. If either of us leans anymore, we’ll fall off our stools. Without thinking, I answer honestly. “I start an internship tomorrow. At the…” I gulp down the word ‘Rexford’ before I can give myself away. I’m playing a part tonight, remember? And Callie already told me, getting personal with the target is the number one no-no. But if I’m not telling the truth, what can I say to him? “Where’s the internship?” Andrew asks, looking curious. My mind goes blank. I look desperately around the room, and my eyes land on one of the black-and-white photos behind the bar: an old fashioned magic show with a man sawing a woman in half. “Magic!” I blurt. Andrew blinks. “Um, did you hear about Illusion Fusion who just performed at the Chicago Theater?” I cover quickly. Now would be a great time for Rob to text and say we were done. Like, right now. “Magic show?” He shakes his head, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Can’t say that I have.” Ha, me neither. I’d read about the group performing at the Theater, but beyond that, I know nothing about Illusion Fusion. Hopefully he won’t ask too many questions. “What position are you interning for?” He adds, “Sexy assistant?” I raise an eyebrow. “Yes, actually.” Taking another sip of scotch, I lick my lower lip to catch a drop, noticing how he eyes me with a cool, yet intrigued stare. His eyes are so expressive, revealing what he won’t allow the rest of his face to show. Something tells me he doesn’t smile much. I decide to test my theory. “I was a little taken aback at the uniform, honestly. Skin tight body suit, cut to here.” I make an arch over my hip. “And patterned like a lizard.” Andrew chokes on his drink. “What?” “It’s some reptile theme,” I continue brightly. “I have to hiss too. It’s so snug up top, I feel like my chest is going to spill right out of it.” I touch my necklace, drawing his attention to my breasts. Flirting is coming way too easily. Maybe the whiskey is helping with that. Andrew chuckles. “When is the next show? I’m pretty sure I need to see that.” He casually places his hand all the way over mine on the bar, and brushes his thumb across the back of my knuckles. It’s a small gesture, totally innocent, but it sends heat racing through my body. I gulp, already feeling way out of my depth. “What about you?” I blurt. “What do you do?”

“You’ll never believe it,” he says easily, bringing my knuckles to his incredible lips. His mouth parts slowly, his eyes on mine, then presses a kiss to my hand. His lips brush my skin with sensual heat. My smile fades, a hot desire stirring between my legs. “Try me,” I ask breathlessly. “I’m a lion tamer.” I laugh in shock – surprised he would even crack a joke. Maybe there is a sense of humor lurking under his controlled exterior. “So, spandex pants and a whip,” I tease. “Impressive.” I cross my legs without thinking, shifting to get more comfortable on the stool. Andrew looks down, and I follow his gaze. My legs look smooth and sexy, tapering down to the sexy heels. Why don’t I dress up more often? I’m turning myself on. He rests a hand on my knee. Oh boy. I take another gulp of my drink to cool down, but the whiskey just burns hotter in my veins. “So, lion taming…” I try to seem unaffected. “Is it hard, wrangling all those beasts into submission?” Andrew’s lips turn up—a genuine smile that makes me realize he’s younger than I thought. He can’t be more than twenty-nine to my twenty-three but until now, he looked older, burdened by heavy responsibility and stress. I bet he looks relaxed and easy like this when he’s sleeping, free of the day-to-day pressure and relentless expectations. “I wouldn’t know, Julie, because none have dared to disobey me.” Could he get any hotter? I think I saw a tendril of smoke coming off that taunting tongue. “I see.” Heat rushes through me. “Well, what would happen if one did?” I ask, teasing now. “You’re leading me to believe that you’re not very obedient.” His words are casual, but his hand squeezes my thigh, full of meaning. “I’m not,” I reply. “You’d probably have to punish me. With your… whip.” Time seems to stop in the moment the words leave my mouth. This is so not me! The things I’m saying are things that Callie would say. I’m pulling off her game better than I’d thought I would. Even it if doesn’t seem like a ploy anymore, but rather a woman flirting with a man for no other reason than to get closer. No photographer. No pretenses. Just natural, enigmatic, physical connection. Sex. Andrew stands and my heart drops. Before I can lament having screwed this up so fast, he takes my hand, grabs his drink and indicates that I should do the same. “Come,” he says. I follow his command. Leading me to the corner of the room, we find an empty table and he scoots the chairs together, holding mine as I sit. It happens fast, this new privacy and the way he turns and takes my chin in his palm. His cologne plays on my senses as he leans into me. His lips are close enough that sparks jump like electric kisses over my lips. Swallowing hard, I can’t figure

out if I’m more nervous or aroused. “You might want to disobey, to deny my desires. But in the end, punishment won’t be necessary because you’ll bend and do exactly as I say.” Andrew winks, but there’s little humor in it. The depth of his expression reveals that he’s serious, and more than a little determined to test his theory. So am I. But I play it off, because the danger I wanted to avoid before? Here it is, fullbodied and wrapping around the both of us. Andrew is more man than I know how to handle. Yet, I’ve started this and I want to know where he’ll take it. I look at his lips. “That’s very arrogant of you.” “Perhaps.” He leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Arrogance can be sweet with a payoff like this.” “Like what?” I’m asking even as his lips touch mine. That first soft press sends sparks in every direction, all of them pooling between my legs. His grip tightens around my waist as the kiss deepens. His lips part, encouraging mine to follow suit. I do, welcoming the slide of his tongue along mine before he plunges it deep into my mouth. My nipples harden, pleading to be pressed against his chest. A moan works loose from my throat and I feel his smile—satisfied with himself for making me melt so easily. Heart pumping, fire laces my veins, my fingers clenching with the need to touch him. But if I do, I’ll unravel and do exactly what he predicted: anything he asks. Andrew pulls back, his thumb making a soft sweep across my bottom lip. The sound of my breathing fills my head, followed by something else…something annoying, like my phone. “Oh!” I reach for my clutch with trembling hands, and rummage around before finding my cell. “Excuse me a minute.” I don’t look at Andrew as I open the text message. I need the space to pull myself together. It’s from Rob. We’re good. Meet me in the lobby. Rob. In a flash, I remember what I’m doing here – and why I started flirting with Andrew in the first place. It was all just a job. I’ll be right out, I reply, then tuck my phone away. “Anything important?” Andrew asks, watching me. “Kind of. I have to get going,” I say, my pulse still racing from the kiss. He catches my hand. “Come upstairs with me. One more drink, in private, before the evening ends.” Reluctantly, I pull away. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t stay.” I stand before I can change my mind. “It was nice meeting you.” He blinks, like he can’t believe I’m really going. And before he can ask me again to stay –tempt me with that wicked mouth— I grab my purse and bolt. Rob meets me by the doors, and takes my elbow. “You were amazing! I got

everything I need.” "Great," I answer faintly, feeling totally off-balance. I follow him outside. “You need a ride?” Rob asks, nodding towards a parking lot down the street. “I can drop you at Callie’s.” “No, it’s fine. I think I’m going to walk a bit.” It’s a beautiful night, and besides, I need some time to pull myself together. My reaction to Andrew was chemical, physical. Exciting. And wrong to take further. “Suit yourself. Tell your cousin, she’s got competition!” He winks, then walks away, leaving me alone on the sidewalk outside the hotel. Thinking about the man I just met. I know nothing about him. Yet he intrigued me, turned me on and made me feel outside of myself. “You forgot this.” I turn. Andrew holds my scarf in one hand. It must have fallen out of my purse. “Oh, thanks,” I stumble, surprised to see him. I reach for it, but he pulls it back, then catches my wrist. “One more drink.” His low tone is a demand. My nipples pucker. I know what will happen if I agree. It’s foolish and risky and simply bad judgement to let him take me upstairs. I’m not that girl. Even if, maybe, I wanted to be. For one night, with him. “Andrew, I really have to go—” “Then at least let me say goodbye first.” His hands cup my face, pulling me into him as his lips crash onto mine. My breasts press against his hard chest, my hips sinking into his and the clash of our bodies electrifies my thoughts. All I want is him. This. I pull away, breathless yet panting. “One drink,” I agree. We both know it’s a lie.

CHAPTER THREE

Y ou can be anyone in a hotel.

The moment you walk inside, you can choose to be yourself, or, if you’re daring, play out a fantasy you’ve kept tucked away. Whenever I’m inside The Drake or an equally luxe location, I get a haughty rise inside that says, yes, I belong to this wealth, this luxury, even when I clearly don’t. The inner fantasy that I’m born to this lavish lifestyle takes hold of me. For that burning moment, I’m not Juliet Evans. I’m someone important; glamorous. Now, as I step back through the gleaming doors, I’m transported into a new kind of fantasy, something sexier than I’ve ever dreamed. Andrew holds my hand, leading me across the lobby. My mind begins to race with a hundred questions and doubts and possible outcomes of this evening. I have to slash them down with a mental machete, because if I don’t, I’ll be overwhelmed and call this off before the adventure even begins. It’s just one drink, I tell myself. That’s what he’s offered, and that’s all I have to accept. Alcohol may be a nice gift wrap for sex, but I’m only taking Andrew at face value, so a drink is, indeed… a drink. I haven’t promised anything else, and he hasn’t asked. Yeah right. He hadn’t asked for those kisses, either. I notice people glancing our way as we walk. Andrew nods toward the right. “This way.” He begins to lead me out of the lobby to a private hallway where the elevators are located. I notice the wide staircase just before the hall. The elegant royal blue carpeting and golden rails make me pause. “Princess Diana walked those stairs, you know,” I comment. Royalty and celebrity have wandered the space of this building, another aspect of the history of spaces that’s always intrigued me. “I know.” Andrew smiles. “We’ll take them up if you like, catch the next elevator.” With his hand on my back, we move to the staircase, and as I grasp the brass rail in my hand, I feel like royalty myself. Sure, it’s silly, but I’m all dressed up in a beautiful dress, with a gorgeous man on my arm. “Hey, man—” Someone calls out in Andrew’s direction, but he doesn’t stop.

Instead, his pace increases and I have the sudden thought that there is more to Andrew than I can gather on the surface. Obviously, he’s wealthy and poised, but who is he really? Whoever he wants to be. I remember my own stories, and smile. We’re both playing the same game here. Becoming someone else, just for the night. There is no wait at the elevators, and we step in, alone. As the carriage makes a soft jolt upwards, so does my pulse. I turn toward him, and look him over slowly, thoroughly. Andrew seems amused. “Like what you see?” He is standing with his back to the wall, his hands in his pockets, but he gives me a sideways glance and his mouth softens. I’m still playing a part here, but not for any assignment. This is all for me. “Yes,” I admit. “Very much.” He steps toward me and trails a finger along the V neck of my dress. I startle at the sudden contact, but easily relax into to the path of heat he’s making with his touch. Caressing the swell of my breast, his fingers skim lightly over the silky fabric, his eyes locked on mine. I concentrate on my breathing as he makes lazy work of tracing up and over the other breast, to my collarbone… the side of my neck. A light humming starts in my head as anticipation coils inside me. God, this man is sexy. Controlled in a way I’ve never had the pleasure of experiencing. Any other guy would be groping me by now, sloppy and rough, but Andrew stays a step back, watching my reaction to his touch. The elevator slows to a stop. And finally, when my whole body is on fire, he slides his hand around the back of my neck, cupping me possessively. Anticipating his kiss, I sway towards him, my heart racing— Ding! The doors open with a bell. Andrew drops his hand and steps back. Disappointment crashes through me. “After you,” he says, and motions me to go in front of him. My legs are weak, but I manage to step out of the elevator. Across a short hall, Andrew pulls a card from his wallet, and slides it into the lock. The door clicks open, and I follow him inside. Wow. I stop dead in the foyer. Yes, foyer – this isn’t just a room, it’s a whole suite. The wide entryway opens into a lavish sitting room, decorated in varying hues of cream and blue. Windows framed with golden draperies line the wall, and a crystal chandelier hangs in the middle of the room, glittering off the marble and gilt edging. “Is this molding original?” I gasp, moving further inside to take a closer look. I trace my hand over the walls, amazed. “This is beautiful!” When I turn back to Andrew, he’s watching me curiously. “You like architecture?” he asks. “I love it. Especially old buildings like this. You get such a sense of the history, I

love imagining all the people who’ve been here before, what they did. All the stories must be incredible…” I trail off, remembering those days admiring architecture with my dad and trying not to. Because right now, I just want to enjoy this. Andrew moves closer. Wordlessly, he takes my jacket and clutch, and sets them on an antique side table that probably cost more than my car. “Are you staying here long?” I blurt again, unnerved by the heat in his eyes. “If you like classic architecture, there are a bunch of places in town you could—” He silences me with a kiss, slow and hot. Damn. He steps into me, his mouth finding the curve of my neck. I run my hands up his arms, over the bulge of biceps to the strong line of his shoulders. He drops small kisses along the length of my throat. Grasping the lapel of his suit coat, I pull it over his shoulders and down. His arms drop to shed the garment, his hands immediately coming back to me, cupping the back of my head in one hand, his other arm going around my waist. I thread my fingers into his hair as his lips find my earlobe. With a gasp, I sink into the pleasure of him nipping at the tender flesh. His hair is thick and silky, sliding between my fingers before I grab light handfuls. He takes a step forward, urging me back and we start a fluid dance, him walking me backward as his lips find mine again, and I fumble for the buttons on his shirt. I can barely breathe through the wicked assault of his kiss. Consumed by the heat of his mouth, I feel as if I’m falling, but Andrew holds me tightly. Suddenly, he breaks away, and spins me to face away from him as he steps up close behind me. The hard ridge of his erection presses into my ass, making me gasp. I sink back against him as his hands rove over my stomach and chest, teasing at the stiff peaks of my nipples. Instinctively, I press back, wanting more of that long, hard length against me. A low growl in my ear, a word, maybe. I can’t think straight. His hand moves over my throat, closing around it in a light caress. My pussy throbs at this dominant move and I resist the urge to clench my legs, knowing it will only make the need worse. He kisses behind my ear. “This is when you tell me you don’t do this sort of thing.” I can’t help but smile. I don’t, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I don’t… often.” He pinches my nipple through the silky fabric of my dress. Sensation flares to life. His thumb is caressing my chin and jaw, tracing the curve of my mouth, and I want so badly to turn around. I don’t try, because the blend of his hardness against my curves is too perfect. “You know,” I whisper, desperate to hang onto some thread of control. “This is when you tell me no one is waiting at home for you.” “No one is ever waiting for me.” There’s a hollow note in his voice that makes me want to turn, to kiss his lips

again, but Andrew keeps me pinned against him. I feel a knot in my chest. I don’t want to know any more, though the urge to soothe him makes me want to touch his face, gently run my palm down his jaw. Instead, I, slide my hands down his thighs, the smooth rustle of expensive fabric teasing my touch as I reach back between us for his hard cock. I find the bulge and gently stroke it with my knuckles. He grinds against me, and the intimate warmth of him draws a primal need from me, so strong, so demanding that my knees go weak. The other woman that lives inside me, the one who fantasizes about doing wicked things on elegant sheets, is taking over. “Andrew.” I whisper his name, running my palm down the length of his cock— eager to rip open his pants and take him in my hand. I attempt to turn, but he stops me, walking me forward a few steps until my hands press against the glass of the floor to ceiling windows. Lights from the skyline sparkle, little square windows from the skyscrapers around us staring like bright, voyeuristic eyes. “Keep your hands on the glass.” He slips a hand down into the neckline of my dress, pushing aside the bra cup to fondle my bare breast. “Tonight, your breasts, your ass, your pussy, belong to me.” He rolls my nipple between his fingers as his other hand lifts the hem of my skirt high over my hip. “Do you agree?” Gasping for a breath, I nod. “Good girl.” He grips the waistband of my panties and tugs them upward, so the fabric pulls tight against my aching clit. A moan escapes my lips at the pressure. The newness of his touch and the unfamiliar feel of his body, his smell and taste give me equal apprehension and thrill. Yet, as he eases the panties back down, the shyness I thought I’d feel doesn’t come. Tonight, I’m somebody else. Andrew lets out an appreciative groan as he cups my breasts in turn, kneading the soft flesh with worshipful measure. His other hand draws a trail around to my ass where he caresses my ass cheek, then delivers a gentle, firm slap. I jerk at the sound of his palm on my flesh, the slight sting nothing compared to the flame of pleasure that bolts right through my pussy. In one move, he yanks my dress open. A rush of cool air assaults my bare skin as the silk falls to the floor. “Ever since you walked into the bar, I wanted to see you like this.” I try to twist, to look back at the lust in his eyes, but Andrew takes my hands and places them firmly on the glass. “No moving,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the back of my neck. He unhooks my bra, and my breasts spill into his hands. God. I let out a moan, and he’s suddenly touching me everywhere, his hands exploring the curves, dips and rises of my body. I moan when he strokes up my inner thigh, and step my legs apart in an invitation I can’t control. My body knows what it wants—I’m powerless, bending to my lust’s will. Submitting to him, just as he said I would. He spins me, and I gasp as my back presses against the cool glass. He grabs my panties again, strips them halfway down this time, and pauses. “I hope these aren’t

your favorite,” he smirks, and I know he’s going to rip them before he does, the sharp cut of fabric into my skin like a devil’s kiss. My heart flips as he drops to his knees. I look down my body, realizing fully that I’m naked save for the pearl teardrop necklace that rests between my breasts and my gold heels. “Wider.” He nudges my thighs farther apart. I’m tight with anticipation and completely unprepared as he gently parts my pussy lips and runs his tongue flat over my clit. Pleasure slams into me, leaving me gasping. There is no reprieve, no adjustment period as he presses closer to me and works my pussy with his mouth. His teeth graze my tender flesh as his tongue flicks and strokes my clit. I nearly lose my balance and brace myself with one hand behind me on the window. The other winds into his hair, holding him between my legs as he loves me with that wicked mouth. His fingers tighten around my hips in response. “You taste so fucking good. Jesus.” I’m mumbling something as I start to lose myself in the build of sweet, demanding pressure. It’s chasing me and with each swirl and stroke of his tongue, it runs faster… getting closer. I realize I’m panting, please, please, please, and I’m torn between giving in to the release he’s offering, and making it stop. The intensity is out of control. I’m out of control as I thrash against the glass and hold him to me with desperate need. It’s scary, exhilarating, and I need it to end… I need him to make it stop, to make it better, to push me over. To set me free. Suddenly, he plunges two fingers up inside me, and thrusts them hard. The thick movement jacks the pleasure higher until I know I’m going to implode. Two thrusts, three and my body tenses, every nerve alive and waiting until my orgasm slams through me in a rush of pleasure. “Oh my God,” I moan, and it’s so intense I try to pull away. But Andrew doesn’t stop, he just presses me harder against the window to steady me as he works me through it, his lips and tongue flicking my tender clit and drawing out the ecstasy. Holy shit. It’s so good, I’m sure I’m going to pass out. But suddenly, I’m in his arms. Andrew lifts me like I’m nothing, and walks slowly toward the bed, laying me down against the pillows. He begins to undress, those long fingers that had just given me so much pleasure working his buttons free. He sheds his shirt, revealing the strong, cut lines of his body. Damn, he’s ripped. Consumed with the need to touch him, I sit and reach for him but he stops me before I can get my hands on his body. “Want to touch me, beautiful?” “God, yes.” He’s a work of art: his chest, his abs, and lower still… He releases his belt and pulls it free, meeting my gaze with a smoldering stare as he unfastens his pants and leaves them open.

“Your turn, sweetheart. Tell me how much you loved the way I made you come.” I’m already on my knees, finding balance on the soft mattress as he stands before me. “I’d rather show you.” The sound of his zipper accompanies my words as I work it down. Fuck quid pro quo, I would happily do this just for the pleasure of touching his amazing body. The outline of his cock against white briefs makes my mouth actually water. His hands slide into my hair, massaging my scalp and threading the strands between his fingers. He pulls my hair with a sweet tug. “Suck me off, Julie. I want to feel that lush mouth of yours take me all the way in.” I free him. He’s huge in my hand, thick and long and I’m momentarily stunned by his size. A bead of moisture glistens at his crown as I bring him to my lips. I swirl it with my tongue, relishing the intimacy as I take him into my mouth. Andrew groans, and the sound makes me even hotter. I want to drive him over the edge, show him just what he’s doing to me. I run my tongue along the length of him, teasing at the tip before I take him all the way down. Finding a rhythm, my hand slips inside his pants to cup his balls. He inhales sharply. When I glance up, his eyes are clenched tight, his lower lip between his teeth. His eyes flutter open and he sees me watching him. I pull back again, drawing him slowly out of my mouth, before swirling my tongue over his head, teasing him until he breaks. “Enough fucking around,” Andrew growls. He yanks me off the bed and bends me over it, my elbows braced against the mattress. He lands another spank on my ass, then grips it possessively. “Damn, I need to feel that tight pussy milking me dry. Are you ready, sweetheart?” he demands. My pussy clenches in answer. “Yes,” I gasp. I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on. I hear the sound of a condom packet being ripped open, then his hands are on me again, sliding over my ass and delving down between my trembling thighs. He strokes over my clit until I’m moaning. Then I feel him, nudging against me with his huge cock. I expect him to be rough, possessive, but instead, he thrusts into me inch by thick, delicious inch. Yes. I groan, amazed at how deep he’s surging, how he’s filling me all the way up. Andrew braces himself over me, his breathing ragged in my ear. “Fuck,” he growls. “You’re so fucking tight.” I clench around him in answer, using my inner muscles to squeeze his cock. Andrew curses, then pulls out before slamming hard back into me. I let out a cry of pleasure, and rock back to meet his thrust. “Brace yourself, baby,” he demands. “I won’t go slow.” I grab the sheets as he pounds into me again, so deep. So good. Increasing his

pace, Andrew works me with long draws and fast thrusts, his girth rubbing my walls with exquisite sensation. Another orgasm starts to build and I don’t try to fight it this time. “Yes!” Gripping the bed sheets, I’m lost to the tornado building deep between my thighs. “God, more, please!” “As you command.” I feel my cheeks part, and then his finger is there, delving, teasing at my ass. Holy shit! I’m too caught up in the incredible thrust of his cock to protest; the sensations all mingle in one incredible wave of pleasure. “Come for me,” he orders, pounding deep inside me again. “I want you to come all over my cock.” Slowly, his finger presses inside my ass as he thrusts. The dual sensation sends me over, the orgasm pulsing and pulling me toward mindless oblivion. His finger sinks deep as he rides me, his cock swelling, stretching me more. With a moan, he comes. The pulse of his release is long, hot, his pelvis slamming against me, ratcheting every sensation. My mind goes blank, the room fuzzy. My body is lifted—I’m floating with the damn angels—softness under my body, warmth all around and I let go. When I surface, I’m wrapped up in the bed sheet, Andrew asleep beside me on the bed. I blink, confused by the sunlight outside the windows. Wait, what time is it? With a bolt of panic, I sit up and look around to the clock on the nightstand. Five AM?! Dread uncurls in me. I fell asleep! My internship starts in two hours and I’m still naked, in bed with a man I don’t even know. Heart pounding, I look at him again, remembering how hard he made me come. How completely I surrendered control. It was incredible. Sensual. Mind-blowing. But it was all a lie. Spotting my dress on the floor near the windows, I creep slowly from the bed and retrieve it, hastily slipping into it. No idea where my panties are, or my bra. Hell, I don’t even have a coat to cover up this walk of shame. Grabbing my clutch to my chest, I tiptoe out of the room, trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to make it out of one of the best hotels in the city without looking like a tramp. Pausing at the bedroom door, I look back at him. We’ll never see each other again. But I don’t have time to be sad about that. In two hours, the rest of my life begins.

CHAPTER FOUR

Ten minutes to spare. I made it!

Nerves threaten to break me as I park my car in the employee section in The Rexford’s parking garage. I’m never this much of an emotional mess. Leaving your bra and panties on the floor of a stranger’s room and almost being late for the most important day of your life will do this to a girl, I suppose. I can’t be thinking about Andrew right now. Not his hotness, not his hands. Certainly, not his huge— “Stop it, Juliet!” I hiss and pull down the rearview mirror to check my lipstick. I quickly showered back at Callie’s, but skipped washing my hair to save time. Humidity from the shower destroyed its beautiful sleekness, making it unruly as usual. Last night, I’d been an elegant, beautiful woman. Today, I’m back to regular Juliet. Even if the sweet ache between my legs reminds me just how amazing it was to be someone else for a while. I take the stairs and exit the garage. I don’t have a keycard for the employee entrance yet, so I have to enter through the front of the hotel. A graceful navy awning sparkling with hundreds of little white lights arches over golden carpet on the approach. I know the minutes are ticking by, but I can’t help but pause and look up at the stately greystone building just to take it in. “Miss.” The doorman greets me with a polite nod as he opens the glimmering glass doors. “Good morning,” I reply cheerily and step inside the grand lobby. A thrill rolls through me as I take a moment to savor the gleaming granite floors and teardrop chandeliers dipping from the recessed ceiling. Four marble columns line the room, while antique gold on blue wallpaper gives a stately feel. I follow a sign welcoming interns to the conference room and rush in with a minute to spare. The doors slam closed. I jump and glance over my shoulder. A rake-thin woman stands behind me in a crisp navy suit, her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun. She turns her nose up at me. “Thank you for joining us,” she snaps and breezes past. “Everyone, sit.”

Heat flushes my face and I take a small, calming breath. There are ten other interns at the front of the room, all dressed in smart business attire like me. I find a seat next to a blonde woman with a friendly smile. She’s got curly hair and a cute patterned blouse. She side-eyes me with a whisper. “She’s a charmer, huh?” “Right? I’m Juliet,” I introduce myself. “Shauna,” she smiles. “I just moved here from San Francisco—” “Let’s begin.” We’re interrupted by a bark from the front of the room. The brisk woman is glaring at us all. “I am Edith Payne, internship director. Let me remind all of you how very fortunate you are to hold such a prestigious spot in The Rexford’s internship program. Hundreds applied. You were chosen. Don’t forget that.” My excitement rises, despite her sneer. I know I was chosen from hundreds. I’m going to work my ass off to do a good job. Nothing is going to screw this up. Nothing. Edith grabs a stack of folders from the table behind her and hands them to an intern to pass out. “In the next three months, you’ll rotate through every aspect of this magnificent hotel, from housekeeping, to basic administration and everything in between. You’ll find personal schedules inside your folders. Please clip on the included name tags.” My hands are shaking a little as I flip through the folder. There are pamphlets on employee etiquette and legal stuff, and a keycard to the employee entrance. I’m most interested in my assignment rotation. “I have reception first!” Shauna exclaims. “Me, too.” We discreetly bump fists. “Exactly what I was hoping for.” Satisfaction wells inside. I’m great with people, if not a little awkward in certain situations… like flirting. But I got over that in a hurry last night, didn’t I? The ache comes back to my thighs as if to agree. I shift on my seat and slide the papers back into my folder. Edith claps her hands and goes through a series of expectations and rules. After a solid ten minutes of pacing and reciting directives in monotone, she turns to face us. “Discretion.” She gives a dramatic pause before clasping her hands in front of her. “Discretion is an utmost priority at The Rexford, and extends to each guest, as well as the Rexford family. Before you leave today, you will review and sign the indepth non-disclosure and discretion document inside your folder.” I wonder if the Rexfords are a scandalous bunch. Callie would know. She reads the society pages like it’s the gospel, but I don’t really keep up with gossip. I know little about the Rexford family beyond the history of its founder, Alastair Rexford, who financed construction of the original hotel in 1869 with money he won from extensive gambling. “We’ll begin our tour now. Leave your folders on your seats, please.”

Shauna and I follow Edith out the door with the rest of the group. I look around and appreciate the arched hallway. There are hand painted golden roses on the ceiling, and golden accents in the wallpaper that set off the navy blue carpet with swirls of red, gold and black flowers. “Alexander wants it all, my money’s on him.” I glance behind me. Two of the guys in the program are talking, in know-it-all smug voices. “My dad is a corporate attorney,” the other brags. “He says this’ll be a dirty boardroom fight.” “I don’t know, Dom’s a Yale man. Like me.” I look to Shauna with a confused glance. She rolls her eyes. “Just stupid gossip. I swear the only reason some of these jerks are here is to have a front row seat into the Rexford brothers’ showdown.” “What do you mean?” She looks surprised. “You… don’t know about the power struggle going on?” “No?” I feel a little foolish. The last thing I can recall hearing was that the older brother, Dominic, was filing for divorce from his socialite wife. Callie had read the announcement from the paper, but I’d only been half listening. It didn’t seem important at the time. Shauna subtly looked around before leaning in. “Dominic inherited fifty-one percent stake in the Rexford Company after his parents died a few years ago. You knew that much, right?” I nod like I do, but the truth is I’m clueless. “The younger brother, Alexander, is back. He’s been sleeping his way around Europe for the past four years and racing that fancy car of his. Apparently, he had enough of that and decided he wants control of Rexford. Although what a playboy like that is going to do with a global hotel brand, I don’t even know.” One of the guys behind us pushes in. “Xander wants to upgrade the entire global line of Rexford hotels, starting with this one. Dominic refuses though, he’s stuck in the past.” “Or playing it safe,” the other guy argues. “Please, this place needs a total gut renovation to bring it out of the dark ages.” He sneers at the beautiful décor. “Are you insane?” I gasp, indignant. “Why would you want to remodel? This place has been untouched since the Great Fire of 1871. The outer south wall is constructed from stone blocks salvaged from the original building, char marks and all. This building was the first known greystone to be erected in the city, twenty years before the style became a Chicago cornerstone.” As I hear my dad’s words pour out of my mouth, I feel a sense of pride well up in my chest. He taught me well. The jerky intern just scoffs. “Thanks for the history lesson.” I know I should quit while I’m ahead, but I can’t stop myself. “The wallpaper in the Grand Lobby is 19th century, hand painted by noted French artist—”

Shauna nudges me with a steady look at Edith, who is glaring at us both. I shut up fast. At least this douche isn’t in charge of the company – I can only hope the current owners appreciate the gem they have here. We follow Edith on a whistle-stop tour of the locker rooms, employee break room, and the rest of the guest amenities. There’s a gym, complete with personal trainers and an Olympic size swimming pool. A salon and clothing boutique. A fivestar restaurant with a bar to rival the Coq D’or, all resplendent with the details that make The Rexford so memorable. I’m still reeling from the tour as she takes us to the corporate wing of the hotel. Here, the décor is sleeker, with glass-walled offices and equally sleek looking staff busily at work. “Holy shit,” Shauna whispers beside me, as we’re shown into an office. “Agreed.” Two full walls of windows overlook Chicago’s famous Magnificent Mile, the glossy buildings and groomed architecture posed like a picture from a magazine. The room is beautifully styled with leather furniture, and a huge black walnut desk with a chandelier perfectly centered above it. “I’m guessing this isn’t the head of housekeeping’s office,” Shauna quips. “She’s in the penthouse,” I joke, but my nerves are building. It hits me again what an incredible opportunity this is. This hotel, these offices, they reek of power. I’m going to nail this internship, and after that? I can’t wait to see what opportunities arise for me here. Suddenly the doors open. A man steps in. He’s looking down, buttoning his midnight blue suit coat, but he gives off an immediate air of authority. Shauna whispers something to me, but I don’t process it. I watch his long fingers fasten the button, those beautiful hands… familiar. A slow buzz starts in my head. He looks up and my entire body goes cold. I take him in—brown hair with a smooth undercut and perfectly messy waves. Gorgeous, rugged, yet elegant features set hard, indifferent. Uninterested. I know those stunning blue eyes. I know those perfect lips—how they taste. How they feel on my breasts, between my legs. A bolt of realization goes through me, straight to my feet. Oh. My. God. It’s Andrew. It’s fucking Andrew! Edith gives a huge smile. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce the CEO, Dominic Rexford.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“A re you okay?” Shauna grabs my arm.

“Mr. Rexford, thank you for taking the time to meet with us today,” Edith says. “I’m pleased to introduce our new class of interns.” Andrew – no, Dominic — nods, and starts chatting. He hasn’t looked at me yet, and God, if he does, will he know it’s me? I had one night of carefree, wild sex. One damn night! It’s already coming back to bite me. Then it hits me in a rush – the reason I was there to meet him at all. The assignment. Get pictures of him in an incriminating position, for somebody to use against him. Never mind the fact that the job was over before I went upstairs, if he ever discovers the real reason I met him that night, I’m screwed. Slowly, I take a small step back. Maybe, if I shield myself behind Shauna, he won’t notice me. “This is a great opportunity,” Dominic is saying. “Our program is the best in the country. None other offers you such a comprehensive education in what it takes to run a successful hotel.” His voice. My eyes close with the instant recall of that timbre in my ear. I want you to come on my cock. I had, harder than I’ve ever come in my life. Heat spreads across my face as flight instinct kicks in. He lied. I lied. But the consequences for him are nothing compared to what he can do to me. He could fire me from the internship program, crush everything I’ve worked so hard for, before I’ve even had a chance to get my foot in the door. “I look forward to the internship program every year, as it tends to develop some of our best employees.” He smiles and his face transforms with that kiss of youth I so admired last night. I take another nonchalant step back as his eyes begin to travel. He keeps speaking. I only absorb the vibration of his words as I try to figure out how to get out of this room unscathed. Tonight, your breasts, your ass, your pussy, belong to me. My sex clenches at the memory, my skin growing hot. Unscathed? I’m going to be tormented by the mental replay of his expert fucking every time I set foot in this place.

I’m so, so screwed. “In fact,” his voice lowers and the air seems to thicken. I don’t want to look at him. But I can’t stop myself. My eyes slam into his. He blinks and the pause in his speech seems longer than necessary. Maybe that’s just my guilty perception. Because I’m freaking out inside. “I’m looking forward to getting to know each of you, learning about your goals and your reasons for choosing The Rexford as part of your education.” Around me, the others are clapping, and Edith is thanking him again for his time. Fear isn’t something I handle well. It pisses me off. I don’t have time to be afraid, certainly not now, and certainly not because of something I had no foresight into. How was I supposed to know who he was? Andrew—Dominic—moves to the back of the room as the crowd leaves his office. I give him a quick glance to find he’s staring at me, one hand braced on the edge of the desk. My chest is so tight, I can barely draw a decent breath. The last in the group, I quickly slip between the glass doors and down the hall with the rest of the group. “Seriously, are you okay?” Shauna asks again. “You look really pale.” “I’m fine,” I falter. “I just forgot to eat this morning.” She reaches into her purse and hands me a package of snack cookies. “Here.” I take them with a mumbled thank you, looking fearfully behind me at Dominic’s closed office doors. “That concludes the tour portion of your morning,” Edith announces loudly. “You’ll have a ten minute break, before reporting for duty for your assignments. Don’t be late,” she adds with a warning glare. I let out a small breath of relief. I need a moment to pull myself together. The others mill towards the main doors, but I hang back, slipping into a small alcove tucked away from the main office. I feel sick. The cookies are dust in my mouth, so I toss them aside and sink back against the wall. What the hell have I gotten myself into? “No magic trick to make you disappear?” I spin. Dominic is so close that I nearly slam into him. He takes my elbow to steady me as his eyes fall to my name tag. “Imagine my surprise to find you in my internship program. Juliet, is it?” Everything knots back up inside. He’s so gorgeous. And so dangerous. “Thank you, Dominic,” I retort, jerking back from him. I cross my arms to barrier myself. Anger flares and I know it’s from nerves, but I can’t help it. “Seriously, I fibbed the one letter. You fabricated an entire name.” I want him to touch me. I want to feel those hands roving under my clothes and caressing my bare skin. The desire only makes me angrier. I take a step back but it’s a weak attempt to control my feelings.

And it fails. He offers one beautiful hand but I don’t take it. “Dominic Andrew Rexford. Though, I’m sure you knew that last evening.” Is he serious? I shake my head. “I had no idea who you were. Really.” Dominic arches an eyebrow. “It’s very convenient that you’re here.” “Coincidental.” I sigh. “Clearly, I have the worst luck.” “Or the best. If what you say is even true.” “Of course it is! I didn’t know who you were. Obviously, I knew you weren’t a lion tamer.” I make it sound stupidly obvious. “I mean, look at you.” My attempt at being collected is failing miserably. “And yet, you still pass as a sexy assistant.” An arrogant smirk pulls one side of his mouth. How can he be so equally gorgeous and insolent? “It worked,” he says darkly. “You certainly played your magic to your advantage last night.” My fingers curl into my palms. Is he trying to turn this on me? “Are you saying that I seduced you, Mr. Rexford?” My temper is fraying. “I’d like to remind you that you… you had a hand in that as well.” He steps closer to me. “Oh, Juliet. You haven’t begun to see seduction.” His eyes drop to my mouth before he presses a finger to my lower lip. I lean into his touch, wanting it to be his mouth, his tongue sliding between my lips and mating with mine. His eyes crinkle at the corners. He knows what I’m thinking. I know he does. My lips part, eager to take his finger into my mouth. “Juliet?” I jerk back at the feminine voice. Shauna steps into the alcove but stops when she sees us. Dominic drops his hands, sliding them into his pockets. She looks between him and me, her lips parting in surprise. “Thank you,” I stammer, collecting myself. “For answering my questions, Mr. Rexford.” He gives a little nod and moves away wordlessly. I resist the urge to watch him go. Instead, I take Shauna’s arm and thank her for the cookies, assuring her that I feel better. She smiles, but doesn’t otherwise reply. I don’t worry about how much she overheard. I can’t. My emotional rollercoaster has stalled at the top, and damn it, I have work to do.

MY FIRST ASSIGNMENT is at the main reception desk with Shauna. I try my best to focus through the next two hours. Beth, the manager, walks us through the procedures of making reservations and handling phone calls, but I can’t concentrate on what I’m supposed to be learning. Dominic Andrew freaking Rexford. Hours ago, he was so deep inside me, I thought I was going to die from the

pleasure. Hours ago, I’d been on my knees for him, taking him in and out of my mouth, caressing the velvety skin of his hard shaft… My boss. The man I’d helped a P.I. snoop on. The lover I’m aching to have inside me. “Miss?” I look up with a start into the watery eyes of an elderly woman across the desk. “I need fresh towels in my room.” “Of course!” I exclaim brightly. “Let me get them sent right up.” Which I have no idea how to do. Beth steps in, patiently showing me how to call for an attendant. Thankfully, the hours fly by and I find my stride, answering phone calls with ease and handling basic guest requests. “Not so bad for a first day, right?” Shauna remarks. “Although, remind me to wear flats tomorrow. My heels are killing me!” “You think they’d let us wear sneakers?” I joke. She snorts. “I can just picture the look on Edith’s face.” I wonder again how much of my conversation with Dominic she overheard. I have no desire to be the point of gossip with the interns, especially where our boss is concerned. The phone rings again. “Your turn,” Shauna says. “I can’t deal with that computer yet.” I move to answer it. “This is the Rexford, how may I direct your call?” After I take the reservation, I try to show Shauna how to input the information. “It’s no good,” she sighs, “I’m scared I’m going to crash the whole—” She stops talking, her eyes widening at something behind me. I turn. Dominic is at the desk, lounging casually – but his gaze is far from relaxed. “Can I help you, Mr. Rexford?” Beth asks, starting his way. He raises his hand to wave her off. “Just checking to see how the interns are enjoying their first day.” His gaze shifts to Shauna. She shrinks back a little, a blush spreading over her cheeks. “It’s going well,” Shauna assures him. “And for you?” He looks at me and I swear I feel his gaze like a caress. “Juliet.” My name sounds erotic, beautiful, the way he rolls it off his tongue. My nipples perk up. Mortified, I resist the urge to cover them with my arms. Aware that the other women are still behind me, I look back to the computer. “Very well, sir.” He moves around the desk and takes a spot beside me. Touching the computer screen, he opens a new program. His shoulder brushes against me and I get an exquisite whiff of his cologne. He smells so good—his naked skin imprinted that scent in my mind and I want more. My hands tremble, but I quickly control it. “You’ll want to pay particular attention to this tab.” Dominic looks over at the other women pointedly, and they skitter to the opposite end of the desk. “I’m not done with you.” His voice is low, his breath tickling my ear. Arousal

floods my veins. Last night, I reminded myself not to get in over my head. I repeat that mantra now, even though I suspect it’s far too late. I keep my voice low, my eyes on the screen. “Unless it’s on a professional level, I am done with you.” “We’re going to meet in my office and talk.” “No.” A low growl escaped his throat. “Did I forget to compliment you on your obedience last night?” Oh, the bastard. The hot, wicked bastard. I don’t reply because I can’t be certain what will come out of my mouth. A woman approaches the desk, heading straight for me. Dom sees her, too, gives a polite smile. “I know how to make you obedient, Juliet,” he murmurs, dropping his voice. “I know how you taste, how you sound when you come.” I whip him a look. I can’t help it. My heart is in my throat. I should be enraged at his arrogance, but I’m not. I’m flustered. And completely, utterly turned on. Need and desire burn in his eyes, but he masks it as the guest reaches the desk. I tear my gaze away from him, my lips parting to greet the woman in front of me but I can’t make the words come. “Tomorrow.” Dominic softly pitches the word at me as he walks away. One word, full of innuendo and promise and secret things. Part of me wants to chase after him and give him a piece of my mind. But I hold back. He wants to talk, then we’ll talk. He’s my boss, after all. Tomorrow, I will set him, and myself, straight. I might want him. But I won’t have him again. I can’t. I have all night to convince myself.

CHAPTER SIX

“Y ou are such an unbelievable whore. I love it.”

Callie hands me another slice of pepperoni pizza. We’re all lounged on the floor in the living room, celebrating my first day with cheap wine and takeout. But instead of bursting with excitement, I may have had a little meltdown and told them everything. Everything. Including the sinful details—at Callie’s insistence—about hotel sex with The Target Dominic Andrew freaking Rexford. “I can’t believe he turned out to be your boss!” Emily looks horrified. I pour myself another glass and drink. “Me either. God, when he walked into the conference room, I wanted the ground to swallow me up.” I turn to Callie. “I’m so, so sorry.” “For what? Getting laid?” She snorts. “What if it gets back to your boss?” I ask her. Until now, I haven’t had time to think about how my impulsive sexscapade might impact her. But I was standing in for her that night, which means not only does my fling make life complicated for me, but for her, too. “And what if Dominic finds out I was the bait, and the whole thing busts open? Your boss will know I slept with a target.” My dread settles in the pit of my stomach. If Dominic finds out, I’m fired for sure. I take another swig of wine and settle it between my knees, gripping the neck like a lifeline. “Wait a minute, Juliet. Just… back up.” Callie turns down the music. Hozier’s From Eden is playing in the background. It’s my favorite feel-good song. Hell, this bottle of moscato is my favorite wine, yet it’s not soothing me, either. “You were off the clock when you went upstairs with Rexford,” Callie insists. “The moment the photographer clears you, you’re free to do whatever the hell you want.” “Just like that?” I blink. “It’s not exactly a nine-to-five,” Callie laughs. “So, no worries about my job security, okay? I am mad at you, though,” she adds. I’m about to beg forgiveness, when I see the mischievous smile.

“I mean, if I wasn’t sick, I might be the one barely able to sit down today. Not you.” I laugh. “Seriously, Jules,” Callie presses eagerly. “Was his cock really that—?” “You do have a problem though,” Emily interrupts, concern furrowing her brow. “What will happen when Mr. Rexford finds out you set him up?” When, not if. Which reminds me. “What is he being investigated for?” I ask Callie. Callie shrugs. “I never know. It would be really hard to face targets with full-on knowledge of whatever shit they’ve pulled, you know?” She has a point. I don’t need to know the inner workings of my boss’ personal life. In fact, the less I know about him, the better. I’m tangled up enough with him as it is. There needs to be a clear separation between my job as an intern, and my sordid history with Dominic. “I have the worst luck,” I sigh miserably. “I let my inner bad girl out one time. One time!” Emily grins. “Tell that wench to keep her pants on from now on.” “Never mind pants, I need one of those old-fashioned chastity belts,” I say. “Locked up tight. Nothing’s getting between these legs from now on, at least, not until I’m manager of some fancy hotel.” “Are you crazy?” Callie exclaims. “You’re acting like it’s the end of the world. You had incredible sex with a hot, rich, dirty man. We’re not talking love and commitment here. We’re talking the God of All Orgasms. So, why not go again?” Emily shakes her head. “Think about it, Callie. This is Juliet’s dream at stake here. It’s risky.” “It’s Dominic Rexford!” Callie looks at us like we’re idiots. “Emily’s right.” I finish my food and crumple my paper plate. “It’s risky, and I don’t need that right now. When he finds out why I was at the Coq d’Or last night, he’s going to come unglued.” I wince at the thought. We went upstairs together with free will. What happened next was impulsive and mind blowing, but I can’t let him use it against me: not with my career on the line. It would help if I didn’t want him so bad. His touch on my lips today—the scent of his cologne. The way my breasts ached when he brushed against me are reminders that wanting him hasn’t changed. My sexual history is pretty limited, boring, if I’m honest with myself. My rational self has no clue how to deal with the pure lust I feel for Dominic Rexford. “So what are you going to do?” Emily asks. “The only thing I can,” I reply, determined. “My job.” Callie snorts. “C’mon,” I argue. “The whole reason it was so hot was because it was a fantasy. But the fantasy ended last night. I need to stay away from Dominic. He wants to

talk tomorrow—fine. It’ll be the perfect opportunity to shut him down.” Callie sighs. “I guess that means no more sordid updates on the wonders of Rexford’s impressive anatomy.” “Nope. Sorry to disappoint,” I reply, then grin. “Just know, nothing you imagine could even come close.” As I head off to bed, I don’t allow myself to think about Dominic, or last night, or our encounters today. If I’m going to move on, I can’t dwell on any of it. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

THE NEXT MORNING, I wake feeling just as determined. By the time I shower, dress and make the drive to the hotel, I’m confident that I can ignore any lingering desire for my boss. I stop in the employee locker room to find my new locker and try out the key. It feels so official, being assigned my own spot and swiping my employee card to clock in. Shauna is already behind the reception desk when I get to the lobby. She hands me a steaming mug of coffee. I take the mug gratefully, needing the caffeine to counteract the mild wine headache I gave myself last night. “Drink up.” Shauna smiles sympathetically and pats my arm. “Edith is looking for you. You’re supposed to call her as soon as you check in.” “I’m not late, am I?” I look to the large, black iron framed clock on the wall behind the desk. I’m ten minutes early. “She didn’t say what she wanted.” Shauna takes a sip and quickly sets her mug aside. “Here she comes now.” Dread fills me as Edith approaches, her severe bun a perfect brown circle atop her head. She smiles, but there’s no warmth in it. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous. I haven’t done anything wrong, as far as I know. Unless… I glance at Shauna, but she turned away to fiddle with something behind the desk. Worried now that she said something about my run in with Dominic in the alcove, I pull on the hem of my blazer to straighten it. “Good morning, Ms. Evans,” Edith says coolly. “Good morning.” She stares at me, her lips nearly white and I know without a doubt that I’ve done something to displease her. “Mr. Rexford requests your presence in his office. Now.” Disapproval is clearly marked in her words. I leave the desk to follow her. My legs are heavy and reluctant as we head to the elevator. She enters a code, presses the button and stands back, glaring at me as the doors close. Shit. I’m not even getting an escort. Alone, I try to brace myself to face Dominic. The sooner we get this over with, the better. I’m taking lust off the table. Temptation, too. Isn’t that the deal I made with myself last night? I need this closure so I can move on with my internship, entanglement free.

The elevator stops and I wish I had a mirror to check my hair, but quickly chastise myself. Who cares? I’m not here to impress him. I walk the short distance to Dominic’s office and pause in front of the French doors. With a deep breath, I knock. “Come in.” The voice is distant, so I follow the order, but when I step inside, he’s right there. I’m not prepared for the sight of him: a crisp Oxford shirt fitting his torso just right. The top few buttons are undone. No tie. Casual dark jeans—I don’t dare take in any more. I don’t even get a chance. Dominic pulls me inside and slams the door closed. Before I can draw a breath, he pushes me against the wall, pinning my wrists above my head. His lips crash down onto mine. I arch against him on reaction, my breasts pressing against his hard chest. I open my mouth and tilt my head, giving him better access—deeper access—and he takes it, sliding his tongue along mine in a demanding kiss. What the hell am I doing? But the shock of it feels so good, so deeply satisfying that there is no way I can find the will to stop. My skin flushes hot, and pleasure makes a needy spiral between my legs. His hand trails over my collarbone, raising tingles everywhere he touches. My nipples are already hard, painfully aching to be touched. With a groan, Dominic cups my breast and squeezes it hard. I gasp against him, but the surprise quickly subsides into something… more desperate. “My beautiful little liar, you’re all I can think about.” His lips brush mine as he speaks. My breath is coming fast and I’m torn between asking him to let me go, and begging for more. My traitorous legs soften, my feet moving wider apart as my pussy throbs with anticipation. Dominic answers with a groan, sweeping his thumb over my nipple, pinching it through my shirt and bra. “Say my name.” His touch goes to the waist of my pants. I feel him move against me there, until suddenly, the button pops free. Slowly, the zipper goes down and I forget what he just said. “What?” He jerks me roughly to him, his teeth nipping my neck and then caressing it with soothing flicks of his tongue. In one smooth motion, his hand is inside my panties, cupping my pussy. I cry out, my hips bucking. “Call me by my name, Juliet.” He rubs a finger through my wetness, softly, teasing where I’m desperate for his touch. The heel of his palm presses low on my pubic bone, the pressure combined with his soft strokes turning me into a desperate, lustful mess. “No.” My thighs quiver with the need to spread my legs more, to welcome him in, but I

resist. His finger slips further, nearly touching my clit. My body is screaming for release, even as my brain tempers me. I can’t do this. But I don’t move, I stay frozen, locked in his embrace. “It’s pointless to resist, but I like watching you try,” he murmurs. He pulls my blouse open, his mouth closing over my breast. Wrapping his lips around the stiff peak, he sucks. Shock of pleasure burst through me and a whimper escapes me. “I’ve never heard a woman sound like you when she comes. I need to hear it, Juliet.” He suckles again, harder, forcing me to arch against him. “Don’t you want to come like that again?” He touches my clit with a light caress before pressing hard against it, and my body lights up. With a cry, I turn my head to the side and bite my bottom lip. I need him to stroke me, to run his finger over my clit and send me into orgasm. Yes, I want it! But I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. He’s relentless, kissing my neck, grazing my ear with his teeth. But his fingers stay still between my legs. “If you don’t obey me, then I won’t help you come. Face it, Juliet, you’ve never had a lover like me.” He takes my lips hard, crushing and so damn delicious. “You’ve never been fucked as good as I gave it to you. Now say it. Say my name.” He’s right. I’ve never had a lover like him—one who can ruin my life. If I say his name, I’ll give in and let him fuck me. He’ll think my acceptance of his identity equals acceptance of our little game. It takes every last ounce of self-control to push him away. “That’s enough,” I tell him, gasping for air. “I need to get back to work. Mr. Rexford.” “Quit playing games,” Dominic chuckles, reaching out for me again, but I shake my head. “I’m not playing. This can’t happen. You’re my boss, and I’m your employee. I shouldn’t have… just now, but I mean it. We can’t do this again.” My breathing is erratic, my sex begging for more, my brain telling me I’ve equally done the right thing and also made it so much worse. He turns away from me, leaving me weak and panting against the wall. The seconds seem to drag on as I watch him walk to his desk. What’s he going to say? Does he hate me now? He doesn’t look back. “You’re dismissed.” I’m hugely disappointed and completely relieved at the same time, frantically buttoning my blouse back up as I turn away. Wordlessly, I manage to remember how to walk, and head for the door. I let myself out without another word, my heart still racing and my body still wound tight. Someone clears their throat. I look up with a shock. Edith is standing in the hallway. Blood drains from my face and my stomach clenches. Was she waiting out here the entire time?

I scramble to tuck my blouse back in place. Fuck. Fuck! “If you’re quite done attending to Mr. Rexford, I have a new assignment for you.” Her voice drips with disdain. “Alright,” I say, mostly managing to keep my voice steady. “What can I do?” “Housekeeping. An extensive wedding party just checked out of the third floor. All fifty rooms need cleaning.” She gives me a smug smile. “Starting immediately.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

I ’m wearing two pairs of rubber gloves that reach my elbows.

And I’m still freaking out about putting my hand in this toilet. People. Are. Disgusting. It’s been three days since I started my housekeeping rotation and I’ve lost all faith in humanity. I mean, seriously. Fishing used condoms out of potted plants… Cleaning congealed food off the carpet… Scraping I don’t even want to know what off the walls… This isn’t how I expected my internship to go. Housekeeping is part of the program; I know that and I accept it. Learning every aspect of the hotel business is important to me and critical for my future in this industry. Yet knowing the debauchery people are capable of when they are behind closed doors gives me an entirely new respect for the housekeeping staff. I’d never have imagined that pubic hair turning up in odd places would be the least disgusting thing I would come across. I’ve been here since six AM, scrubbing, straightening, and vacuuming, and I can’t wait to just go home. Edith has made her point loud and clear. I know she is punishing me for what she thinks I’ve done with Mr. Rexford; it doesn’t matter that I slept with him before I started my internship. She thinks something happened in his office the other day, and this is her way of reminding me that I’m not here to flirt with the boss. I’m here to scrub shit out of the curtains.

POINT. Taken. In a way, this housekeeping assignment is a blessing since it’s allowed me to pretty much hide from Dominic. I don’t expect that he’s been looking for me, not after I snubbed him. He got the point, and I shouldn’t feel disappointed that he probably doesn’t want me anymore. But I do. Which is a warning sign, right there. So the longer I can keep this rolling cleaning cart between him and me, the better.

A few more days of scouting rooms for used panties hidden in shadowy places? I can handle it if means resetting this thing between Dominic and I to normal. I finish the last room of my shift and go to wash up. By the time I reach the locker room, my feet are on fire and I realize I smell like disinfectant. I hope Callie remembers to pick up more wine because I seriously need it. At this rate, my internship is going to send me straight to rehab. Sitting on a bench near the lockers, I kick off my clunky white work shoes and rub my toes. “Hey, there you are!” Shauna sits on the end of the bench and slides over to me. Her cheeks are pink, eyes sparkling. She’s wearing the look of someone ready to go off about the wonders of the universe. I’m surprised to see her here so late. I knew my day would be longer, but I figured she and the other interns would be long gone. “You didn’t join us for lunch.” She puts her hands between her knees like she just can’t sit still. “I ate upstairs. I had too much work to do.” “I still can’t believe Edith moved you to housekeeping this week. It makes no sense.” It does to me, but no one else needs to know. I smile and slip into my flats. “It’s only two weeks. And it’s going fast already.” “You’re missing so much at the desk. Do you know who checked in today? The Ambassador to France! I stayed so Beth could show me the security procedures for handling high-profile clientele.” I look at her. Edith informed us the first day that certain procedures were off limits during our internship. Security was one of them. We couldn’t even have the codes for the private elevator that went to the executive offices. “She let you in on all that?” Shauna shrugs and drops her eyes. A slow grin crosses her face. “No, not really. I was supposed to be helping check in other guests, but I may have peeked a little. Do you know there’s an entirely separate computer system for handling celebrity reservations?” She leans in with a squeal. “Channing Tatum has a reservation for Friday!” “What? No way,” I gasp. She nods, then elbows me. “Maybe you’ll get to clean his room.” “Yes,” I roll my eyes. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate how tight I’ve pulled the hospital corners on his bed, and how the faucets in his bathroom shine.” She laughs. “Hey, we can dream! See you tomorrow.” “Goodnight.” I finish changing and grab my stuff, then head down to the staff parking garage. It stretches behind the building, a depressing concrete block. I sigh and head for my car. You can’t always get the wall-to-wall marble and chandeliers. There are a few vehicles parked in the employee section, but none around my beat up green Corolla. It’s just sitting there in the open like the geeky kid no one wants to play with. I don’t mind. Less cars mean fewer places for creepers to hide and jump out at me.

I’ve always hated parking garages, and let’s just say watching a whole bunch of true crime TV shows haven’t made me feel any safer. A little chill goes down my spine. Now I’m just creeping myself out. But I increase my pace, holding my car keys with the pointy ends peeking out between my fingers, just in case. Unlocking the car, I yank the door open and am just about to hurry inside when I see the front, driver’s side tire. It’s completely flat, the rim sitting in a pathetic puddle. There’s some kind of glass lodged in the rubber, which I must have driven over on the way to work. Shit. “No way.” I stare at it a few seconds longer, as if it might magically re-inflate. My feet hurt. It’s getting darker and later by the minute, and I haven’t changed a tire since I was sixteen and my dad put me through a crash course in tire maintenance 101. I think about calling my dad now, but it’s a thirty minute drive from his suburban cul de sac to the city. Emily and Callie are both at work, and neither of them would be better at changing this tire than me. Out of options, I toss my bag into the car and decide to tackle it myself. Popping the trunk, I rummage around for the jack and spare tire, setting both onto the ground along with my keys. The sound of a car coming down the upper ramp catches my attention. I stop looking for the wrench thing to take the lug nuts off and glance over as the car approaches me. It’s a black Jaguar XK—I only know this because my dad commented on what body parts he’d gladly sell to get one when he saw one unveiled at a car show last summer. The driver downshifts, and the car purrs as it slows, pulling in right beside me. I can’t see inside through the tinted windows. My pulse picks up as I side eye my trunk, wishing I knew where that damn wrench was. Instead, I bend and grab the jack. If this guy is some random, parking garage predator, I can at least hit him over the head. The driver gets out and runs a hand down his tie as he faces me. I nearly drop the jack. “Juliet?” He looks amazing in a brown leather jacket over his white button down. Dark jeans cling to his legs, the tips of expensive-looking shoes shiny in the lights. It’s an exquisite contrast to the dusting of dark brown stubble that covers his jaw and chin. Dammit. I haven’t seen him in three days and he’s affecting me harder than he did the first time I saw him. I can hardly breathe. He moves closer, frowning. “You’re wearing a housekeeping uniform?” His question confuses me a bit. How could he not know that I’ve been reassigned? Unless he really didn’t come looking for me again—just like I suspected. “Yes, Edith reassigned me.” “I see.” He looks at the jack in my hand, then to my tire. “Need help?” Not from him. “No, thank you.” “You’re going to fix that yourself?” Dominic looks amused.

“You think I can’t?” I retort. “I think you’ll have a hard time without a wrench,” he smirks. “Let me give you a ride.” “That’s okay. I’m sure you have something more important to do,” I say stubbornly. I look under an emergency winter blanket and a small bag of kitty litter. Nada. Something warm presses into my lower back, stopping my movements. Dominic runs his palm in a little circle over the dip in my spine. He body brushes my back as he leans over me. “Nothing is more important.” I’m defeated and I know it. It’s getting late. I’m starving and exhausted and have no resources for getting this tire changed. I sigh, and slam the trunk shut. “Okay,” I say reluctantly. “Thank you. It’s not too far.” Grabbing my bag, I lock up and turn to find him holding the passenger door to the Jag open for me. A stack of papers sits on the seat, and I carefully move them before sliding inside. The rich scent of leather and polish greet me. It’s an intimate space, small enough that Dominic’s presence feels dominating when he gets in. His cologne mixes with the manly aroma and a little more fight goes out of me. I want to be here with him. I want this close proximity, and God help me, I want his touch. I hand him the papers and he takes them with a frown, setting them beside the center console. “So, housekeeping?” He pulls out of the parking garage and merges into traffic. “Yes.” I’m not sure what to say. “How is it going?” Dominic looks over at me, his gaze hanging on a little too long considering we’re in downtown traffic. My insides flutter. “It’s… enlightening.” I smile a bit. “I appreciate the physical work, and learning how to properly care for a room. I had no idea how hard the housekeepers worked.” “Most interns would be complaining about the job,” he notes. I shrug. “It’s the point of the program, isn’t it? To learn all aspects of the hotel. It’s important work, even if nobody wants to do it.” “That’s a great attitude.” Dominic looks over. “You’re right.” The compliment warms me. I want him to see me as something other than a fuck. Even if his body next to mine makes me acutely aware that a fuck is what I desperately want. I can’t help looking over, stealing a glance as we make our way through rushhour traffic. His profile is strong, the stubble running down his throat and making a curve above his Adam’s apple. If I could just open his shirt a little more, there’d be room for my tongue to trace the cords of his neck… I shift in my seat and my hand ruffles the papers. They edge out of their spot, and I grab them before they can flutter to the ground. I notice a different hotel logo, the Prescott, on the top page before I put them back. “Tell me what you think of The Rexford, Juliet.”

There’s a sincerity in his voice that catches me off guard. “What do you mean?” Dominic sighs. “Prescott has been very successful in catering to a younger, hipper market and the Rexford board is considering whether or not we should make a few changes to keep up.” I remember what Shauna said about the Rexford brothers fight over remodeling and upgrading the hotel. I have the same sinking feeling when I think about ripping out all those classic features. I haven’t been inside the Prescott hotel, but I’ve heard about its posh, modern atmosphere catering to hipsters and Gen Xers alike. “Younger set or not, The Rexford is a landmark. People come here for its reputation and history. Prescott can never compare to that.” I recognize the street coming up. “You can pull in just ahead,” I tell him. We pull into the alley behind my building and Dominic parks. He’s out of the car before I can unbuckle, opening my door for me and standing close enough that our bodies brush as I get out. “Well, thank you for the ride… Mr. Rexford.” The easy expression falls from his face, replaced with a darkness I recognize. It’s the same look he wore when he had me pressed against the doors in his office. Heat pools in my veins. I turn to go before I do something stupid like stay. “You’re forgetting something.” He grabs my wrist. “I have everything.” He steps forward. “You owe me a kiss for the ride. It’s only fair,” he adds with a teasing grin. “I don’t owe you anything.” Heat flushes my skin as I watch him take another step closer. Gripping my upper arms, he steps into my space. “When will you understand that I always get what I want?” He presses me gently back against the car. He leans down, his lips a fraction from mine. “We’re going to finish what we started the other day. You, coming on my hand.” Oh boy. Heat surges through me at his dirty words, and all my earlier resolve crumbles to ash. He kisses me hard. I can’t resist—I don’t want to. Our kiss turns to a frenzy until he spins me and yanks my hips back against him. My palms slap against the car. His foot nudges mine farther apart, his hand finding my inner thigh… fingers trailing up and down, up and down. I am so aroused. I glance around, but there’s nobody to see: we’re parked way back in the alley, totally alone in the dark. He slips his hand into my panties and leans low over me. “We’re going to get right to the good part, Juliet.” He bends me lower over the car, my ass visible to any passersby. A hard shiver goes through me, but it only makes this hotter. I want him so much.

Dominic finds my clit with a long, deep stroke that sends pleasure in every direction. I’m wet, soaked, slick beneath his fingers as he begins a steady rhythm. I cry out and turn my face into my arm. Anyone can hear me out here. Anyone could look out their window and see, but I don’t care. He strokes faster, blinding me with intense sensation. It floods through me, building higher with each caress. Two fingers slide deep inside, thrusting, his palm rubbing against my clit, filling me completely and sending an intense orgasm crashing into me. Oh my God. He fists my hair as I throw my head back and cry a soundless scream. He keeps touching, caressing, and the orgasm keeps coming until I lose all ability to stand. I slump against the car, but he’s there, holding my body tight. Dominic turns me, his lips finding mine as the pleasure ebbs away. “That’s how you say, ‘thank you,’ Juliet.” He sucks his fingers, the ones that were just pumping inside me, and then kisses me hard again. A quiver of new arousal goes through me as I taste my intimate flavor on his lips. He finally releases me, looking satisfied. I take a shaky breath, smooth my skirt and try to will strength back into my legs. He retrieves my bag, hands it to me. “Sweet dreams.” I feel his gaze on me, following as I exit the alley and head inside the building. I walk slowly up the flight of stairs to our apartment, my head still spinning. Sweet dreams? I’ll take a nightmare, as long as he’s in it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

A text message wakes me the next morning. It’s from a number I don’t recognize.

Good morning. Your keys are in your mail slot. I read it five times before the words click with last night’s events. Rushing to my front door, I find my car parked at the curb in front of the building, shiny clean, with four new tires. It’s cleaner than it’s been since it was right off the assembly line, probably. My keys are in the mail slot, along with a small card from Haye’s Repair shop that holds a hand written note. Tires and maintenance curtesy of Rexford, Inc. Jesus H. Christ. The man gave me an orgasm and new tires. I can accept one— can’t give back an orgasm, after all—but how do I, in good conscience, accept the other? Thinking about it, I realize I don’t have a choice, not unless I want to rip them off the car myself. And I’ve already proven, I’m pretty much useless when it comes to changing a tire. But this doesn’t mean I don’t owe him. I get ready for work, but the question, “what’s next,” plagues me. I thought I’d have things figured out by now, but I’m not on any more solid ground now than I was three days ago. But despite my uncertainty, I can’t avoid the truth: I have no regrets. Every encounter with Dom has been mind-blowingly pleasurable, and I can’t ever regret coming like that. He was correct when he said that I’d never had a lover like him. He’s ruined me to common sense, apparently, because all I can think about is another taste.

THE INTERNS ARE WHISPERING when I enter the locker room. “Did you hear?” Shauna saunters over to me with a coffee cup in her hand. It smells amazing. She offers it, and I take it gratefully. “I love that you’ve become my coffee bitch.” I take a sip. “Hear what?” “Edith’s been fired!” I pause. “What? When?”

Shauna slips into her blazer and buttons it, fluffing her long blonde hair around her shoulders. “Late last night. We’re all meeting at the desk for a quick briefing.” My mind slips to the conversation Dominic and I had in his car yesterday. Did he figure that Edith was punishing me, too? The thought that he may have fired her over me makes a lump lodge in my throat. Does that mean he cares? My mind is still whirling as Shauna and I go to the lobby. It’s quiet this morning, the grand entrance peaceful with its stately beauty washed in new sunlight. Our manager, Beth, ushers us into a staff room. “These are your new rotations,” she says and passes out a sheet of paper with our revised schedule on it. Shauna frowns. “Why the change? I thought we had two weeks left.” Beth shrugs. “It came from higher up.” I check my schedule. It’s blank. I panic. “What do you think this means?” I whisper, showing Shauna. “Are they letting me go?” She looks confused. “I don’t know, maybe it’s a mix-up? You should ask Beth when we’re done.” I sit, my fear growing as I listen to the weekly run-down of reminders and tasks. Then we’re dismissed, but I don’t move from my seat. What if he’s actually firing me? But wouldn’t he have done that earlier? Or had security march me out the door first thing? “Good morning.” I jolt at the voice. Dominic is standing in the doorway, looking commanding in a black suit and blue shirt that sets off the blue of his eyes. He’s shaved and his face is babysmooth, tempting me to touch. “How did you sleep?” he asks, a wicked glint in his eye. I blush. I dreamed of him all night: sexy, forbidden dreams. “Fine,” I say abruptly, getting to my feet. “I should go, I need to talk to Beth about my schedule.” “No need,” Dominic stops me. “I’ve taken care of it. Do you have another outfit with you?” I pause, confused. I’m dressed in the maid’s uniform, since I expected to work housekeeping again today. “I have regular clothes in my locker—” “Excellent. Go change.” “Why?” I’m still lost, still anxious about the possibility of losing my internship. Dominic’s expression remains neutral. “When I make a request, Ms. Evans, it is to be followed immediately and without question. Is that clear?” The authority in his tone makes me stand a little straighter. Controlled and collected, he’s one hundred percent the dominant business man. I never realized before how much that turned me on. “Yes, sir,” I reply, with an edge to my voice. “Where should I meet you?”

“Upstairs.” My mouth drops open, but Dominic smirks. “The offices,” he adds. “You’ll be attending a board meeting with me.” Cold hands run down my spine. “Board meeting? But I’m just an intern!” Management operations are part of my rotation, eventually, but only on a basic level. Board and director’s meetings are way over my head. Dominic arches an eyebrow. “You don’t want to observe a management role? I assumed with a quick mind like yours, Ms. Evans, that you aspired to more than answering phone calls and cleaning rooms.” “I do. But this… It’s not part of the program. I don’t want any favors.” My tone is defensive. He softens. “This isn’t a favor. Trust me, just stop arguing and go change. Or I can invite one of your classmates…” He looks around, as if he’s about to go find someone else to get a front-row seat in the boardroom. “No!” I yelp quickly. “Thank you. I’ll be right there.” I grab my folder, and move to leave the room. He doesn’t stand aside, and I brush against him as I pass. The heat from his body on mine stays with me as I rush to the locker room to change. I quickly trade my maid’s uniform for my pencil skirt and blouse, thanking God I arrived looking smart today, and not in jeans like some of the other interns. Whipping out my purse, I dig around for lip gloss and dot a bit on, before letting my hair from its braid and twisting it into a bun at the nape of my neck. It stays—by some miracle—and I rush to get up to the executive offices in time. Dominic meets me in the conference room and hands me a leather portfolio. Other people are filing in, and I can feel their curious stares. “This is a department head meeting. Take notes.” He reaches into his breast pocket and procures a pen, hands it to me. The shaft is polished wood with brass fittings. My hand is shaking as I take it. “Notes?” Ooops, said that out loud. What types of things did one write down at meetings like this? “Write down whatever you feel to be important.” He’s testing me. I want to pass. Then I remember. “Who should I send a check to?” I ask quietly, as the room fills up. “Pardon?” “For the tires? Where should I send the check?” Dom smirks. “Don’t be ridiculous, Juliet. I take care of my own.” He nods to a chair in the corner. “Now, sit quietly and say nothing.” His own? What does that mean? I move to a lone chair in the far corner of the room, puzzling over his comment. But soon the conference table is full, and Dominic gets to his feet. From here, I have a perfect view of his position at the head of the table. His tall body and broad shoulders make an impressive outline against the whiteboard behind him. “Ladies and gentlemen.” Dominic pours himself a cup of coffee from the carafe

on the table. “Shall we get started?” One of the men begins talking about new tax laws and upgrading policies. I concentrate on what’s being said, picking out what sounds most relevant and writing it down. Dominic listens, giving the man his full attention. I notice how every attendee watches the head of Rexford as if they might miss something if they look away. They respect him, and that’s something considering Dominic is the youngest man in the room. “Mr. Yates, do you have a purchase report for us?” “Yes, sir, I do.” Thin and birdlike, Yates recites purchase orders and the costs of replacing broken or outdated furniture and accessories. I write as quickly as I can while still keeping a sharp focus on the discussion. I find that I’m absorbing and processing the conversation more than actually writing. I try and take more notes, wanting to do what Dominic asked. Despite everything, I want to impress him. The meeting continues another forty-five minutes before a man in a nicely-cut suit takes a spot next to Dominic. I recognize him from staff introductions—Peter Baldwin, the head of the public relations department. “Mr. Rexford, I’m afraid I don’t have good news.” This catches my attention. Mr. Baldwin holds out a paper to Dominic and then passes more around the table. I’m dying to know what it says, but one isn’t offered to me. “It’s no secret that our gross has been down the past nine months. Our global locations are holding strong, but here in Chicago, we’ve seen a loss in revenue by another fifteen percent this quarter.” Dominic skims the paper in his hand. A muscle twitches in his jaw—his only reaction as he places the paper on the edge of the table. “This advertisement came out in yesterday’s issue of Elite magazine and I can confirm we’ve lost over a hundred reservations already.” I scoot to the edge of my seat, thinking if I can maybe lean in enough, I can nonchalantly get a glimpse at one of the papers. No luck. The closest person to me is still too far away. Dom catches my eye briefly, then turns to Mr. Baldwin. “Deliver one to Ms. Evans.” All heads turn my way but it’s Dominic’s cool, steady glare that captures me. He’s radiating with controlled anger. I can only imagine what’s going on in his mind. I take the paper from Mr. Baldwin. It’s an ad from the Prescott Group. Summer Special: switch your reservation to Prescott and save big. Free luxury upgrades and more! The image shows a glamorous woman walking away from a building that could only be the Rexford – and towards a gleaming Prescott property, greeted by valet, staff, and a literal red carpet stretching from a pair of wide-open, etched glass

doors. “I’ll deal with this later,” Dominic says, remaining calm and in control. “That’s all for today.” The meeting adjourns but I remain in my seat, thinking about the ad. It’s clear this rivalry runs deep, but stealing customers with bribes like this is a low blow, even for the ultra-competitive hotel industry. I’m still mulling over the move when I hear Dominic’s voice. “Well? How was your first meeting?” I look up. Everyone’s gone but him. We’re alone in the room. “It was… overwhelming,” I admit, collecting my papers. “I took notes, like you wanted, but I didn’t get everything. It was hard trying to keep up. How do you stay on top of everything?” “I delegate,” Dom answers with a smile. “A good staff is the key to success. When you’re head of a big company like this, it’s important not to get caught up in the small details. I need to be free to focus on the big things.” “Like the Prescott Group?” Dom’s face darkens. “This ad is just the latest in a long list of moves against us. Blaine Prescott seems determined to steal all our customers away.” “You’ll find a way to win them back,” I say confidently. “They might stay with Prescott once, but they’ll come right back to the Rexford.” “And why’s that?” Dom surveys me. I feel self-conscious. “Because the Rexford isn’t just a hotel, it’s an experience. One that can’t be replicated by anyone else.” “Is that so?” He gives a smug grin, and I realize too late that I could have been talking about him. Us. He crosses the room towards me. And then he’s lifting me, his lips on mine with a crushing kiss. It’s shockingly familiar, and tempting as hell. I let the folder fall to the floor as I surrender, reaching to lock my arms around his neck and return the kiss. I draw back, taking his lower lip between my teeth and softly biting down. He groans, his hands caressing my ass, my back, my shoulders. His muscles are tense. “We should talk about Prescott.” It’s a weak attempt to put the brakes on, but I want to know more. “Later,” Dom growls. “I want you on your knees, Juliet.” I’m aware that the door to the room has been left cracked. The sounds of footfalls and conversation come from outside the room. “Anyone could walk in,” I protest, shocked – and thrilled. He kisses my neck, his hand finding my breast. “Shy little kitten, all of a sudden?” A shuddering breath comes out of me as he tweaks my nipple. “Yes.” We kiss, his hand cradling the back of my neck. “Then go to my office. Take off your clothes and wait for me.”

My pulse leaps. Now? In the middle of the work day? Dom retrieves the portfolio and hands it to me, his face perfectly blank. “I’m not going to ask again, Juliet. It’s your choice.” My choice… My resistance crumbles. No part of me wants to deny him, or myself. I crave a continuation of last night, to find completion. The same part of me that took a risk with him at The Drake makes an appearance, pushing me closer to my desires. I slowly exit the conference room, feeling his eyes on me. I pause in the hallway. I could go to his office like he ordered – or to the elevator, back down to the lobby. To my internship, and the rest of my work day. What’s it going to be? I ask myself, but the decision has already been made. I decided the minute he put his hands on me. Luckily, the secretaries’ desks are empty as I walk past and open the doors to his office. My brain is on auto pilot now, so intent on giving my body what it wants that I’m not thinking of what I’m about to do anymore. I’m going to get naked. In my boss’s office. And it feels wicked and naughty and— “Oh!” I stop at the sound. Shauna is behind Dominic’s desk, her face white. “What are you doing here?” I clutch the portfolio to my chest. She seems frozen, just like me. We’ve completely scared the shit out of each other. I look around for Beth or another manager who might have come up here with her, but she’s alone – thank God. “N—nothing.” Shauna skitters from around the desk, her hands in her pockets. “I was asked to drop off some files. What about you?” “The same,” I say quickly. I hold up the portfolio Dom thrust into my hands moments ago, glad of the excuse. “I was just taking minutes at the board meeting.” “Ooh,” Shauna relaxes, her color returning. “Big time management, huh? Was it interesting?” “Kind of—” “Shit, I have to run, I’m late already,” Shauna cuts me off. “Tell me all about it later, okay?” And then she’s gone. Prickles go down the back of my neck, and for a second, I have the urge to follow her. But the memory of Dom is too strong. He ordered me to get naked… I carefully check that the door is shut, then I shrug out of my blazer. My fingers find the buttons of my shirt and I slowly pop them one by one. Desire returns, intoxicating. Any moment, Dominic is going to walk in here with his sexy, alpha swagger. His big, warm hands are going to find every inch of my bared skin. The leather couch… his desk… against the wall, I don’t care. All of them. Any of them, as long as he takes me hard. Fast. And satisfies this relentless fire he started in me. “There’s only a couple pretty ones in the group this year.” A woman’s voice comes close to the door, muffled, but stull audible. One of his

secretaries, back from her break. I go still, my heart racing. Is someone going to come in? There are murmurs of agreement, somebody else with her too. “No, no, don’t worry. He went to the penthouse for a few minutes.” “My money’s on the one with dark hair.” The first voice says again, her tone gossiping. “The one he took to the meeting this morning. She could barely keep up. You know I’m going to have to retake all those notes.” She’s talking about me. I pull my shirt closed, and edge closer to listen. “You’d think he would have learned to stop screwing the interns after it killed his marriage.” “Well, I have no sympathy for these girls. Either they’re trying to sleep their way up the ladder, or they’re too dumb to realize they’re just a convenient screw. And meanwhile, I’m the one stuck dealing with all the fallout trying to rearrange the schedules to get them out of his way once he’s done fucking and forgetting them.” What? I go cold, bile rising in my throat. He’s done this before? With other interns? Plenty, by the sound of the gossip. I’m just one of a long list, girls too stupid to know any better. I struggle to button my shirt again and pull my clothing into place. I can’t believe it. I feel so cheap, so used. I’m not special… But he never said you were. The truth hits hard. He never made me any promises – only demands to get naked, as soon as fucking possible. Even when I tried to stop, because he was my boss, Dom didn’t seem to mind, he only chased harder. Because this is what he does. He’s got the routine down to an art. And this time, I was the fuck-and-forget. I was the dumb bitch, the stupid intern. I yank on my blazer and wipe tears from my eyes. Listening by the doors, I wait until the voices fade away, then finally make a break for it, hurrying to the elevator without being spotted. I’ve been so, so stupid. And it ends right the fuck now.

CHAPTER NINE

I find a note taped to my locker the next morning that says I’m assigned back to

reception today. My phone beeps as I get ready for work. It’s Dominic. Yesterday, I finished my shift and went home, cracked a jar of buffalo chicken dip and dug out a bottle of cheap wine. Then my bag of chips, wine and I hid out in my bedroom to watch The Princess Bride and forget the entire day ever happened. Until my phone started blowing up. I’d like to speak with you. I erased the message and added the number under ‘Asshat’ in my contacts. Asshat called twice again last night, but I refused to answer, or even listen to his message. I wasn’t going to text or call him back because my mind was made up: I’d been stupid enough. My hormones are not going to ruin my future. I’ve never known lust like this. But I’ve also never had an opportunity like The Rexford is giving me. I have to choose, and I choose myself. Now, I turn off my phone and toss it into my locker. I feel a pain in my chest, but I tell myself that’s just the after-effects of too much hot sauce. Dominic means nothing to me anymore. “Hey.” Shauna is already on the front desk when I arrive. “Hi,” I mumble back. She doesn’t say anything about finding me in Dom’s office yesterday, and I’m glad. I’d rather pretend the whole day never happened. I get to work checking in a new guest, and for the next few hours, I stay focused on my job. Bad enough I already have a reputation. I want to be remembered for more than just being Dom’s latest plaything. By the time noon rolls around, I’m in my element: dealing with guests, answering calls, even directing a family on a great walking tour of the city. This is what energizes me: challenge, interaction, responsibility. I love it, and I don’t want to lose it. “Ready for your break?” Shauna asks, after I equip the family with an armful of pamphlets and maps. “Please,” I smile, “My feet are killing me.” Then I see one of the secretaries from Dom’s office approaching. “Juliet Evans?”

she asks. “Yes,” I brace myself. She sweeps me with a quick glance and I realize, this must be one of the women who was gossiping about me. “Mr. Rexford would like to speak with you in his office. About the notes you took yesterday during the meeting.” The notes? I’d completely forgotten about them. I stashed them in my locker last night. I feel a tremor of nerves. I can’t face him, not now that I know the truth. “Please tell Mr. Rexford that I’m unavailable right now.” The secretary looks surprised. “But… he said for you to come. Now.” “And you can tell him you delivered his message,” I say brightly. “Thanks.” I pretend to get back to work, feeling her eyes on me, until at last I hear her walk away. “I can’t believe you just did that.” Shauna looks shocked. “He’s the boss!” “It’s fine,” I lie. “Go to lunch, Lace.” She doesn’t move. “He’s a powerful man. Who knows what can happen if you cross him?” She almost sounds… scared. I look at her, trying to read what’s going on in her head. “You make him sound like a Mafioso,” I joke. “What’s the worst he can do?” “Fire you!” Oh yeah, that. I swallow. “If he wants to speak to me, he can come down here and ask me.” Shauna goes pale as she glances behind me. “I think I will take that lunch.” I already know before I turn what I’ll find: Dominic heading straight for the desk. I can feel the anger rolling off him, and it gets stronger the closer he gets. An older couple steps up to the desk like a heaven-sent buffer. “Welcome to the Rexford!” I chirp, trying to ignore Dom. “How can I help you?” “We were wondering about our room…” The woman starts chatting about the AC levels and her chesty cough. I keep my eyes fixed on them, nodding along, but I’m painfully aware of Dom loitering just a few feet away, tapping his feet impatiently. He might be used to getting what he wants, but I’m sick of giving it to him. I’m not quite sure where my resolve went these last few days, but I’m glad it’s back. “Ms. Evans.” His voice comes, a commanding rumble. “One moment, please,” I tell him without looking, using the same tone I revert to when I tell callers I’m about to put them on hold. I arrange to get the couple moved to a new room, and throw in complimentary breakfast just for the hell of it. By the time they leave, Dominic is seething. Poor, spoiled baby. “How can I help you?” I move to the computer and tap determinedly at the keyboard. “What happened to you yesterday?” Dom moves to stand beside me, his hand covering my own on the desk, out of

sight. It’s a simple, gentle gesture that contradicts his irritated tone. I glance at our hands, then finally to his face, and I’m struck by expression. He actually looks confused and a little hurt behind the anger. “I thought—” I don’t let him finish. I’m not playing anymore, and I’m sure as hell not going to tell him what I overheard his secretaries say. The sting of humiliation is still raw like an open wound. So I lie. “I thought it over, Mr. Rexford,” I tell him, snatching my hand away. “And it’s in my best interest if we keep things professional. Strictly professional.” He holds my gaze, looking wounded. “Is that right?” “There are other interns you can take under your wing.” I look for a flicker of recognition that my comment has hit home, but Dom is inscrutable as usual. “I hope my decision won’t in any way be a detriment to my internship,” I manage to finish, my voice steady. I lift my chin. Now he looks really pissed. “You actually think I’d punish you for not sleeping with me?” My heart flutters, but I hold my ground. “I hope not. But I guess I don’t really know you at all, do I?” Dom’s mouth twists in a smirk. He leans in, his breath playing hot against my ear. “Punishment has its place, Juliet. Trust me, when I punish you, you’ll be begging for it.” I gape at him. I can’t stop the surprise, or the licks of desire that swirl between my legs. This fucking man! I don’t know whether I want to slap him… Or tear his clothes off and have him show me exactly what he means. “I’m working,” I manage to bite out. “Was there anything else?” Dom narrows his eyes. “No. You may continue.” He stalks off, and I let out a breath of relief. God, just his presence is overwhelming, the pure animal instinct. It makes me remember what he can do with that body – and what pleasure he’s capable of inspiring in my own. Luckily, Shauna checks back after her break, and I can go splash some cold water on my face. By the time I return for my afternoon shift, I’m back in control – and Dom is nowhere to be seen.

“WELCOME TO THE REXFORD,” I greet the next guest. “How can I help you?” I smile, which isn’t hard considering how good-looking this guy is. Tall and tanned, with messy blond hair and friendly blue eyes that look right at me. “Well, hello to you too. Juliet.” He eyes my name tag. The glint of silver and gold on his wrist catches my eye. Rolex. In a navy blue polo shirt and teal pants, he looks like he’s about to go sailing, or pose for a Polo ad.

“I’d love to book the penthouse, thanks.” “I’m sorry sir,” I say reluctantly, not bothering with the computer. “The penthouse is booked. Private residence, year-round.” He makes a show of sighing, but his eyes are full of laughter. “Well, what’s the next best thing you can offer a weary traveler such as myself?” “We have a fabulous diamond suite,” I say, wondering if he can really afford it. After the penthouse, it’s our most expensive suite, clocking in at over five thousand dollars a night. The handsome guest quirks an eyebrow, so I continue. “Three rooms, vaulted ceilings with a full view of The Magnificent Mile. It includes access to our famed arboretum.” “I suppose that will do. Second best, as usual.” He reaches for his wallet, and I’m about to ask him his name for the reservation, when he leans in close. “Just between us, I’m guessing the suite has the same decoration as the rest of this place?” I’m not sure what he means. “All our rooms are outfitted in a classic, luxurious style.” “I thought so.” He looks around the grand lobby and makes a face at me. “Nothing’s changed in a century.” “The Rexford is committed to preserving its historical features,” I say blandly. “Even history can use freshening, don’t you think?” He gives me an encouraging look. “Indulge me this. If you could change one thing about this place, what would it be?” I get the feeling he’s flirting with me. “Well…” I pause, looking around. “Maybe I would change the lighting. The chandeliers look great, but we could use some additional spotlights to really show off the room.” “True.” He cracks a charming smile. “Dungeon-chic went out in the eighteen hundreds.” I giggle, warming up now. “And they could replace the carpeting, maybe expose the hardwoods and make it seem more modern. Cut back on all the antique furniture, make it a blank canvas for the rest of the architectural details. It’s kind of busy with all the patterns and upholstery.” “Busy?” he repeats, laughing now. “My Aunt Daisy would call this place overdone, and she’s got a life-size painting of the Last Supper on her dining room wall.” He passes his ID over and I smile. “You have a good eye,” he continues. “What else?” “I… would up the ante in elegance.” I enter his details automatically, distracted. “Younger crowds don’t want all this gilt edging, that just makes them think of their grandparents.” “Like Aunt Daisy,” the man smirks. “Exactly. They like a mix of old and new. We could keep the historic luxury, but incorporate modern products—organic spa products, fair trade linens, even a

designer coffee bar. Match or better amenities found in younger hotels.” Like the Prescott, I think. Suddenly aware that I’m rambling way above my pay grade, I close my mouth and turn to the computer. “I’m sorry sir,” I say quickly. “Forget I said anything.” “Worried the boss will stamp out insurgency in the ranks?” he grins. “It’ll be our little secret. You’re sharp. And, quite lovely.” I look up in time to see a flirtatious smile. “How about a drink after your shift?” he asks. I wish I could. But the hotel has a strict anti-fraternization policy – and this guy doesn’t hold a candle to Dominic. Maybe no one will for a long time. You’ve never been fucked as good as I gave it to you. Damn him. I give an apologetic smile. “Thank you. But I have plans after work.” “A boyfriend?” He tilts his head. “Whoever he is, he’s a lucky bastard to have you so hooked.” His phone buzzes, and he glances at the screen. “I have to take this. But thank you for all your hospitality, Juliet. You’ve been a real help.” He walks away but I’m not paying much attention. He’s right. I am hooked. Completely, utterly hooked. It’s unnerving, how much I want Dominic – even after everything. The sexual pull is just too strong. Was, I remind myself angrily. It’s over now, for good this time. It has to be.

CHAPTER TEN

I arrive at work the next day to find a cop stationed by the front desk – and another

two policewomen stationed in the locked room. “What’s going on?” I whisper to the other interns. They shrug. “Beats me. We have to go straight upstairs for a meeting,” one of the guys answers. I stash my purse and follow the group upstairs. Everyone looks super-serious, and even the atmosphere feels different. It’s weighty and thick and lacking the comfortable vibe that’s always pumping through this place. Did someone die? My mind races with all sorts of CSI scenarios about someone being pushed from their hotel room window when I enter the conference room. A security guy checks my name off a list. “Take a seat, miss.” The room is full. So full, I wonder if anyone is actually working right now. Employees are being called up by rows to the front of the room, and are being led one-by-one behind the room divider. I find a seat with the other interns. One of the other girls rushes in and joins us. “I just heard what all this is about. It’s Shauna!” “What about her?” I demand, panicked. “Is she okay?” “She’s fine – if you call hanging out in a police cell fine,” the girl smirks. “She got busted hacking into confidential customer data,” she rattles on, too excited about the scandal to keep her voice down. “She was working undercover for the Prescott group!” “What?” I gasp in shock. “She was a corporate spy, all along. Everyone’s on lock down, they have no idea how much data she took.” The guy beside me groans. “I knew I should have taken the job there. This place is going down.” All around me, employees and interns burst into fevered whispers about the future of the company, but my mind races. I saw Shauna in Dominic’s office! No wonder she looked so nervous, she was probably hacking into his computer to take lord-knows-what! Damn. I should have mentioned seeing her, gone with my gut feeling that it was

odd, but I pushed it aside, too distracted by whatever was going on with Dom. I panic. Maybe they don’t even know that she was snooping around in his office. Who knows what confidential material she may have found? He needs to know. Now. I stand and hurry to the door. The doorman blocks me. “No one is supposed to leave, miss.” I make a light grimace. “I really need to use the restroom. I’ll be quick.” He looks at me a second before letting me pass. I head to the elevator and go up. If the security downstairs was a shock, up here, it’s like Fort Knox. I pass half a dozen serious-looking men in suits, and every computer is getting the once over by tech. Dom is in a huddle with some other employees, and he makes me wait before wordlessly leading me to his office. “What?” he demands. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of a situation.” “It’s about that.” My heart is in my throat. “I need to tell you something.” Dom’s expression hardens. His eyes pierce me, cold. “The night I met you, you lied about your identity.” I stop. Does he know? About the honeytrap? I resist the urge to fidget. I have to face this head on. “I—yes, I did.” “Why?” I don’t know where he’s going with this, or how much he knows, so I force myself not to confess everything. Why make it worse? “Honestly, I wanted to be someone else. Just for one night. The makeup, the clothes, the random hook-up with you, are not me at all.” I pause to see how he reacts. His expression doesn’t change. If he knows about the trap, he’s an expert at hiding it. “I’m bookish, you know? Not very impulsive. But when I saw you, and the way you looked at me when you touched my hand… I wanted to be the kind of woman a man like you would find fun and attractive.” A small grin lifts one corner of his mouth. “I’ve found you attractive every single day since that evening.” The compliment makes me tingle. I start to take another step toward him, but stop myself. I’m just the intern du jour, remember? This time next year, he’ll have a new one to replace me with. The thought sobers me. “About Shauna,” I say. “I found her here, by your desk, alone, the day of the board meeting.” His face changes. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “I didn’t think it was important. She had an excuse, and so did I. I was… distracted.” Dom rounds the desk and stalks towards me. “Are you working for Prescott too?” he demands.

“No!” “Don’t lie.” His voice is heavy, warning me. “No more lies, Juliet. Tell me the fucking truth.” Guilt rages through me, but there’s no way I can tell him the truth about that first night at The Drake now. He’d fire me in a heartbeat, and I need this internship. I’ve worked so hard for it, I shouldn’t have to give it up because of one crazy coincidence. “I’m not working for Prescott,” I say again firmly. That, at least, is the truth. “I love this hotel. I’ve dreamed for years about working here. I value being able to walk into this building every day.” Dom’s eyes rake over me for a long moment. Then he gives a curt nod. “I believe you. Sabotaging this place isn’t your style, not when you can’t shut up about how great it is,” he manages a macabre smile. Relief floods me, but I’m not off the hook yet. Dom goes to pour himself a drink. He stands a moment by the windows, looking out at the city skyline. “The Rexford isn’t just a job to me. It’s my family’s legacy. My great grandfather founded it, my grandfather and father built it into the worldwide chain it is today. Now that responsibility falls to me.” I move closer, pulled by the depth of raw emotion in his voice. “Thousands of employees rely on The Rexford franchise. On me.” He looks worn out. Defeated. “This feud with Prescott is getting out of hand. I can’t even remember how it started. Professional rivalry, I guess. But spies? Stealing confidential information to dirty our reputation? Blaine Prescott is going to ruin us all.” I feel a rush of emotion. He has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and nobody to help share the burden. I can’t imagine what he’s going through, trying to keep everything from falling apart. “You’ll survive this,” I insist. “You can survive anything.” Dom just shakes his head bitterly, taking a gulp of whiskey. “How? He’s got the inside track now, thanks to Shauna. Everything we do, he’ll be one step ahead.” “So, you’ll think of something new, something amazing, and he’ll never see it coming.” I step beside him, and place a gentle hand on his arm. I want him to look at me. I want to see him. “You can do this, Dom. You’re the most brilliant man I’ve ever met. Stubborn as hell,” I add, trying to get a smile out of him. “But brilliant.” I take his hand, and without thinking, bring it to my lips. He lets out a soft breath. His eyes lock on mine, and for a moment, there’s a flash of heat between us. Not the burning lust that’s consumed us before, but something warmer, stronger. “Juliet—” he starts, but a knock on the door stops him. I quickly drop his hand. He steps back as his secretary enters.

“Excuse me, Mr. Rexford. Legal needs to speak with you. Line one.” “Thank you.” Dom’s voice is brisk again. She leaves, and I pause, uncertain. Before the interruption, something was happening between us, and I don’t know what to do now. From the look on Dom’s face, he doesn’t either. “You should get back to work,” I say, making the decision for both of us. He nods, looking reluctant. “Thank you. For listening.” “Any time.” I give a faint smile, then walk away. My heart pounds all the way back downstairs. I feel like my world’s just been flipped upside down. I was so determined to shut him out of my life forever, but now I don’t know what to do. The vulnerable side of Dom has thrown everything into question, and I can’t help but feel a new respect for him now. He’s a better man than I ever imagined. Damn. He’s no longer just a threat to my ‘no sex with the boss’ policy. He’s now a threat to my heart.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

P ad Thai smells even better when you don’t have to share it.

I settle the takeout container on my lap and reach for a fork. Sweatpants, a creepy marathon of Ghost Adventures, and the apartment to myself equals heaven after today. My phone buzzes with a text message from Callie. ’Sure u don’t wanna come?’ She and Emily are out for dinner and a movie tonight. They begged me to come along, but I need some alone-time to recover from this crazy week. ‘I’m good. Promise. Have fun!’ I shut off my phone and try to relax. After our ‘moment’ in his office, I didn’t see Dominic for the rest of the day. I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed about that. He must have been pulled in a million different directions, thanks to Shauna’s betrayal. The task of finding out how much information she stole and shared would be a long one. Then came cleaning up any mess it caused. If I was that back-stabber Prescott, I’d be pretty nervous right about now. I glance down. I can feel the imprint of his hand in mine, burning with tension. The stress of the day opened up emotions that he normally wouldn’t share, I’m sure. He’s probably kicking himself for showing vulnerability in front of me. Well, as much as a man like Dominic ever regrets anything. I don’t know how to feel about him. He’s a man, but he’s an enigma, too. It’s hard to sort rumor from fact when I don’t know enough about him to do so. So, I’ll shove pad Thai in my face until I figure it out. There’s a knock on the door just as I crack the top to my take out container. I set the food aside and rise, realizing there are no little packets of pepper sauce in my bag. The delivery guy must have realized it too, and come back. I crack the door until it pulls on the security chain. It’s not the delivery guy. This man is wearing a black suit with a cap on his head. He’s old enough to be my father, but holds himself like second-hand royalty. “Ms. Evans?” His voice is crisp, polite. “Yes.” I think I’m about to be pranked. He offers something through the opening. It’s a card envelope. “I’ll be waiting

for you outside, madam.” Quickly, I shut the door and rip open the envelope. The Rexford symbol graces the front. A keycard tumbles out into my hand. The penthouse key. No more games. I want you, Juliet. This is the last time that I’ll try. Come to me. Come to me? Oh my God. I’ve been thinking about him all day, in a way that’s different than before. I want to see beneath his exterior, to the layers that really make up Dominic Rexford. But I also want the hot, dirty sex. I want it all. It’s dangerous—playing with fire. He can consume me completely if I allow it. I no longer feel like just some random intern to him. It’s silly, but the sense that there’s something more to us won’t leave me alone. I won’t know unless I take a risk. Unless I go to him. I put my food away and head to my room. It feels surreal as I dig through my closet looking for something to wear. There’s nothing good, except the dress he’s already seen me in. Why am I doing this? I want him. Maybe even need him. But not looking like this. I catch sight of myself in the mirror. My hair is a mess, my old clothes hang baggy. Sweatpants are fine for staying in on a Friday night, but I can’t go to the penthouse like this. I wonder if I should raid Callie’s closet for another knock-‘em-dead outfit like the one I was wearing the night Dominic and I first met. But I don’t want to play a role again. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to go as myself. Not the honeytrap sex kitten. Not the intern. Me. Pulling out a pair of my best jeans, I don them along with a shimmery olive green blouse. I smooth my hair with some gel and apply lip gloss. A little mascara. That’s it. I grab my jacket and bag, and head down to the limo waiting outside. The driver opens the door for me, and I slide inside. My nerves are growing, and I go back and forth over my decision the entire ride to the Rexford. I barely notice the luxury of the limousine, or the glass of champagne on the table next to my seat. I ignore the lights of the city as we drive smoothly through the streets. This is it. No turning back. “We’re here, miss.” I look up. We’ve pulled up outside the hotel. I’ve been so deep in my own indecision, I didn’t even notice the stop. “Thank you.” I scramble out. I’ve entered the hotel dozens of times, but now it’s different. As the doorman holds the glass door open, I realize, I’m not an intern tonight. I’m just another guest, someone who can live a fantasy. If I choose.

Glancing around as I walk to the elevators, I pray that I won’t see anyone who might recognize me. I don’t, and gratefully let the elevator swallow me. I go up… up, up, and my nerves grow. I don’t want to be someone else. But if I do this, if I get more deeply involved with Dominic, will it change me? How will I ever go back to the person I was? It’s not just about my career, but my heart. The elevator opens but I hold the door, uncertain if I should get out – or head right back downstairs and home again. I’m not naïve, I know myself well enough to be aware of how deeply I come to care about people. I can’t give my body to him without offering up my feelings too. And giving him that power, it scares me a little. But what if I never know for sure? With stiff legs, I walk to the penthouse door and reach for the key card. One slip of plastic, yet it’s so very heavy in my palm. It’s risky and I might pay for it later. I take a deep breath. Close my eyes. And decide.

I CAN NEVER SAY THANK you enough to all the readers, new friends, and bloggers who have helped spread the word about my book, but I’ll give it a try. Thank you a million times for all your excitement, support and tips for this newbie. I couldn’t have done it without you. Special thanks to Candi Kane at Dirty Laundry Review for making me LOL every day and for keeping things dirty. Xo, Lola To be continued… What will Juliet pick? The story continues in THE HOTEL 2, out JULY 15th. https://www.facebook.com/LolaDarlingAuthor?fref=ts

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CHAPTER TWELVE

D ominic Rexford is so close.

My boss is on the other side of this penthouse door. My sexy, dangerous boss. And I can have him – I can have every one of his tempting promises. All I have to do is swipe the keycard and step inside. No more games. I want you, Juliet. I shiver remembering the lust in his voice when he delivered his final ultimatum. I picture him inside, his shirt unbuttoned over that muscular body, tie loose around his neck. Stepping over this threshold is the biggest risk I’ve ever taken. My whole future is on the line. He could ruin all my plans, or make them come true in ways I never imagined. I take a deep breath. Close my eyes. And swipe the card. I push the door wide and go in before I can change my mind. I’ve never been up here before: this is the Rexford suite, for VIPs only. Now, I drink in every detail. The softly lit foyer spills into a wide, airy living room with an entire wall of floor-toceiling windows. I take in the luxurious leather furniture and marble fireplace, but then I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, and everything falls away. It’s him. Dominic. Walking toward me, a champagne flute in each firm hand. My pulse kicks. Damn, he's hot in his white dress shirt and tie, looking at me like he wants to devour me just like my sexy premonition. But even my imagination couldn’t capture how good he looks. Powerful. Devastating. Smug. “I’m glad you came.” His smile is satisfied, like he just won a bet. But I guess he did, because I’m here, despite everything that’s happened. “Drink?” I nod, suddenly nervous. His dark eyes rake over me as he hands me a glass. I tip it up and take a quick gulp, and warmth spreads through me: from the champagne, and the heat in his appraisal. “You took your time.” Dom’s eyes darken just a little. I feel a surge of victory. Maybe he wasn’t so sure I’d make it. I decide to tease him, just a little. I shrug, taking another sip. “I didn’t realize we were on the clock.” Dom surveys me. “The limo was to your liking?”

“It was fine.” “And the suite?” he gestures around. I give another shrug, like it isn’t the most luxurious room I’ve ever been in. “It’ll do.” His lips quirk in a smile. “I thought you’d like it.” I give a flirty smile. “Have this all planned out, don’t you?” “Maybe.” “You knew I would come.” This man doesn’t hesitate, not for a second. “Yes.” His confidence would be infuriating if it wasn’t so damn sexy. I take a breath, trying to steady myself. Already, my nerves are thrumming in anticipation for his touch. “You always get what you want, right, Dominic? Must be rough.” I place my glass down and saunter past him to the windows, playing it cool. He follows, stepping in close. His breath is hot against the back of my neck as he answers. “This is what you want too, Juliet. Don’t try and deny it. Not now.” He’s right. I made my choice back in the hallway. Hell, that’s not even true. I made my choice the minute Dominic Rexford put his hands on me. I could have walked away a dozen times since then, and we both know it. No matter the risks, I can’t seem to stay away from him. Why fight it anymore? Why not just surrender to this incredible connection? Dominic slips his arms around me, running his hands gently down my bare arms. I squeeze my thighs against the blossom of heat between my legs and make one last-ditch effort for the upper hand. I nod out at the gorgeous night skyline, Chicago lit up in the dark. “To tell the truth, I really only came for the view.” A low rumble comes from his throat. “It’s very nice.” Dominic leans in and brushes his lips to my neck. His fingertips are still tracing lightly along my arms and stomach. I sink back against him as the pleasure shivers through me, fighting to keep still. His hands rove over me, moving to my breasts, so soft, only a whisper of sensation. I feel it everywhere. God, this man. He can turn me on in an instant, make me wet and aching for him. I hold out as long as I can against his soft seduction, then I break. I turn, reaching for him, needing him hard against me. But Dom is already one step ahead: he pulls me in, kissing me hard as he crushes me to his muscular frame. Yes. This is exactly what I came here for. I reach up to loop my hands around his neck, needing something solid to hold onto as his lips devour me. His hands cup my face, he pulls my lower lip between his teeth, his tongue demanding mine. Or am I demanding him? I lose track of everything as we feast on each other. Dominic winds my hair in his fingers and tugs, pulling my head back. I gasp at

the dominance. “Dominic…” I whisper as he kisses down my neck. “No,” he murmurs against my skin. “Don’t say my name. I want you to scream it.” He lifts me in one swift move. I cling on tight, my legs going around his waist, my hands gripping his bare shoulders. He kisses me again, effortlessly carrying me through the suite. My blood is racing, and the tension is throbbing low and warm inside me by the time we reach the bedroom and he sets me down. “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined you here?” he growls. “Your gorgeous tits bare, your legs spread wide for me?” My eyes go to the bed. It’s massive, an antique four poster, king-sized at least. Dominic takes my chin in a firm but gentle grip and turns my head back to him, so I can see the intensity in his gaze. “I get hard every damn time I think about you, Juliet. This afternoon in my office, I wanted to rip your shirt open and press you against the glass so the entire street could see me fucking you.” My breath stills. “Why didn’t you?” I whisper, imagining it. Dom smiles down at me. A powerful, controlled look. “Because this time, you’re going to give me everything I want.” He traces my jaw, then slides his thumb in my mouth. I can taste him, feel the rough pad of his finger invading me. It’s so incredibly erotic that I gasp, breathless. We lock eyes. And then I suck. Dominic groans. He backs away and sits on the edge of the bed. He loosens his tie, and begins to unbutton his shirt. “Strip,” he commands. One word, said so powerfully. I don’t even think about it as I take hold of the hem of my shirt. I raise the fabric and shiver against the cool air that drifts over my stomach. Higher, higher, I slowly pull it over my head until I’m left in just my black lace bra. Dominic’s eyes go dark. He twists his tie tight between his hands. I realize who has the power right now, and it’s not him. It’s me. I let my shirt drop to the floor. Slowly, I undo the button on my jeans. Looking up at him through lowered lashes, I rotate my hips a little—slowly at first. Then, with more purpose as I lower the zipper and see how hard Dominic swallows. I sway my hips and arch my back just enough to thrust my breasts out as I edge down the waist of my jeans. Below my hip bones. Below the strings of my thong. Dominic’s nostrils flare a bit as he winds the tie completely between his fists until his knuckles turn white. I leave my jeans low on my hips and run my hands over my waist. Up my ribs to cup my breasts, before gliding up my neck and lifting my hair. He gets off the bed with a groan. Sexual tension rolls off him as he reaches for me, and it only makes my need worse. He picks me up and throws me down on the bed, crushing me with a kiss. He

yanks my jeans off in one move, then unhooks my bra. In seconds, I’m nearly naked, laying in front of him on the bed. “I fantasized about this, too.” Dom takes my wrists in one hand and then uses his tie to secure them to the headboard. He binds me loosely, as if he’s asking permission and giving me an easy out all in one swoop. I’m glad. I’ve never been tied up before, but already, it’s making me weak with desire. “My Juliet, totally at my mercy.” His hand slides over my breasts and down my belly, teasing me until his fingers finally slip beneath the waist of my panties. “Spread your legs, Juliet.” I do, arching my back, wanting him to touch me. “Good girl. So good.” He leans over me, his lips closing over my nipple as his fingers delve into my panties. My eyes roll back from the burst of sensation that shoots through me. His fingertips graze against my clit, but it’s not enough. Spreading my legs wider, I whimper a little. Still, Dom torments me: stroking softly over my clit, skimming over my aching pussy, but never touching hard enough; deep enough. I’m going crazy here. I want him inside me when I come, want to feel his body on mine, his taste in my mouth. “Don’t go slow,” I beg, wound to breaking point. “Don’t tease. Please, just fuck me.” He moves to the other nipple and pulls it between his teeth. “Maybe I want to tease you.” “Next time.” He breathes a laugh and drops kisses down my body. He’s not going to give me what I want. But he’s going to give me everything I need. Dominic yanks my panties down and settles between my thighs. I start to close my eyes, but I want to watch him. My hands are bound, I can’t touch him, but I can see. He dips into my tight, slick opening, slowly sinking his finger inside me. “God, yes,” I moan. He parts me, his breath so hot against my damp skin as he moves closer. My body is quivering with anticipation, my clit begging for his touch. I open my eyes— And let out a scream. There’s a man standing behind Dom, lounging in the doorway with his arms crossed and a smug grin on his face. “Dom!” I slam my thighs together, almost crushing him. He turns. For a split second, he freezes—shocked like me—before pulling back. “What the hell!” His voice rings out in anger. He grabs the comforter and throws it over my naked body. “Please, don’t stop on my account.” The man saunters over to the bed. “I was rather enjoying the view.” I yank free from the restraints and clutch the bedcovers to me. I recognize him:

he’s the guy who was flirting with me at the front desk the other day! Dominic points to the door. “Get the fuck out, Xander.” Xander? I realize who this intruder must be. Alexander, Dominic’s wandering, playboy, yacht-racing brother. “Bad timing, big brother?” Xander’s eyes fall to me, his mouth curving into a cocky smirk. “Well, maybe for her. Sorry, love.” Oh God. Humiliation slams through me. How long was he watching us? Dominic shoves Xander back. “Out. Now.” He hustles Xander out of the room. I quickly grab my clothes from the floor and pull them back on as fast as I can. Shit. Shit! When I nervously edge into the living room, the brothers are in the middle of a heated conversation. “What are you doing here?” Dominic’s voice is low, threatening. Xander’s eyebrows shoot up. “You didn’t answer my calls, so I figured I’d stop by.” Dominic grabs Xander’s shoulder. He says something that I can’t hear. Xander sighs dramatically. “It’s getting harder to protect your throne, isn’t it?” His gaze goes to me. “I’m sorry, we weren’t introduced properly. Xander Rexford, at your service.” I stay frozen in place. “Umm, Juliet.” “How tragic,” Xander smirks. Then I see it, the resemblance, the same superior confidence that Dom possesses. “You should go.” Dominic doesn’t look at me. He’s fixed on his brother, fury in his gaze. “Don’t leave on my account,” Xander exclaims. “Please, stay, you looked like you were having fun.” Could this get anymore humiliating? “Juliet,” Dominic barks. “Leave, now!” I flinch. A moment ago, he was telling me I was all he wanted, now I’m being ordered out of his sight like I’m some servant at his beck and call. Or his employee. Which technically I am. Shit. “Fine.” I stalk past them, trying to hold my head high, trying to ignore the sting of Dominic’s rejection and the utter embarrassment of his brother finding us like that on the bed. I can’t imagine ever getting over it. Remembering the keycard in my jeans’ pocket, I lay it on the buffet in the entry. The door clicks softly behind me, feeling final. What the hell just happened?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“J uliet, get up!”

Something whaps me on the head, once, twice. I bolt upright to find Callie sitting beside me, a newspaper rolled in her hand. “What am I, a bad dog?” “Yes,” she quips and flattens the paper. Thrusts it at me. “It’s Sunday,” I groan. “I just want to sleep. Go away.” I’m still reeling over what happened at the penthouse Friday night. “Oh, Jesus, put your big girl panties on. Some random dude watched you get kinky, and Dominic humiliated you. I get it.” “Seriously?” I cross my arms. “Have you ever had a stranger walk in on you when you’re tied to a bed?” “Honey, that’s a typical Friday night for me.” I laugh, but my heart’s not in it. The naïve part of me thinks he still might actually call or text, something, to apologize. He hasn’t yet, and I’m not sure why I’m hurting over it. Like Dominic ever apologized for anything. I should know better by now. After I got home, Callie and Em kept me up until two AM to rehash every detail and speculate why Dominic turned so cold. We formed no satisfying conclusions, but polished off a couple of bottles of wine in the process. My head is not relishing the consequences. At the moment, I just need to sleep. I try to pull the covers up and hide but Callie yanks them back. “Nuh-uh. Read it.” She drops the paper on my lap. It’s a copy of the weekend papers, also known as ‘Rich People’s Wedding Announcement Day.’ I groan. “I don’t care if some trust fund private school teacher married a proctologist on the beach.” Callie flips the paper over and points. REXFORD HEIR RETURNS FROM EUROPE READY TO TAKE THE REINS Alexander Brigham Rexford has returned to his suite at The Rexford Chicago, after a lengthy sabbatical in Europe. The dashing Rexford heir has been well followed on the Euro touring car circuit, making a name for himself as a top racing contender. And let’s not forget his drool-worthy modeling debut for designer Tom

Ford in Morocco last year. With the very public division of company shares after the deaths of Xander’s parents, which left him with zero control of the company but a massive inheritance, we can only speculate his return coincides with the recent Rexford drama involving hush-hush theft by an intern. (No worries, loves, we’re still hot on the trail to find out exactly what went down and all the yummy details.) Is Xander back to challenge his brother and CEO of Rexford, Inc., Dominic, for control? It’s no secret The Rexford has been on a downward spiral in recent years, due in part to the rise of more modern-suave luxury hotels, like the Prescott Group. Is this recent drama yet another sign that Dominic Rexford has exhausted his ability to lead the historic hotel as a contender against younger, hipper challengers? Blaine Prescott certainly thinks so. “The Rexford has been an old, dying horse for years. It’s sad, really, watching it expire so painfully. It’s easy to blame outside forces, like the appeal of better hotels drawing customers away. That may be true, but really, bad management is likely the bigger culprit.” Ouch! Perhaps Alexander’s fresh, adventurous style is just what The Rexford needs to turn things around. Which bring us to the big question: Does the Windy City, and The Rexford, have room for two Rexford brothers? Stay tuned!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The minute I get into work on Monday, the other interns pounce.

“What’s going on?” Brad demands. “What do you mean?” “The article, stupid,” he stares at me like I’m a total moron. “The big feud. Come on, Juliet. Tell us what you know.” “Nothing more than you.” I shake him off, determined to get out of here at lightning speed. I don’t have the patience to deal with this drama. I’ve been thinking about Dominic all night and how this must be affecting him. “Right.” Brad sneers. “All that quality time you’ve been spending with Rexford, and you don’t know anything?” I’m tense. “Are you referring to the time I’ve spent shadowing Mr. Rexford in the corporate office?” I narrow my eyes in challenge. Say no, you little round asshat, and I’ll rip what’s left of your hair out of your balding head. “Come on.” He blows it off. “Is the board thinking about voting Rexford out and letting the brother in?” He looks behind him at the group. “It’s no secret this place is going down. Damnit, Shauna had the right idea jumping ship before it sinks.” I give them all a look. “Seriously? One little gossip column, and you’re all ready to run? Maybe you should focus more on doing your jobs here, and less on that tabloid trash.” They don’t look convinced. I sigh. “I know we’re all worried about the rumors. But that’s all it is, guys. Rumors from a gossip column. Our internships will go on as normal, unless we hear otherwise. Okay?” I’m not sure when I became mother hen of this group, but the reassurance seems to work. We all head out to work, and then my phone sounds with a text. My heart jumps, and then jumps again. What if it’s Dominic? Shit, what if it isn’t Dominic? I dig the phone out of my purse. I need you in the boardroom immediately. I want to be cautious, but I feel a surge of hope. The last time he called me to the office… I shake it off. After Friday night, he owes me one hell of an explanation

before I’m letting him get in my panties again. At least, that’s what I tell myself. I head up to the boardroom, trying to calm myself in the elevator on the way up. When I get to the room, I see it’s full for the morning meeting, every seat taken. Dom is at the head of the table, and Alexander is beside him. He has the sunbleached, wavy hair of a beach God, golden tan skin and light green eyes. Dominic is his polar opposite: dark and foreboding. Alexander sees me. He gives a knowing smirk as his gaze sweeps over me. I’m embarrassed, but I tip my chin up and stare right back at him. He’s not going to get to me. The room is nearly full as I make my way to the chairs along the back wall. “Ms. Evans,” Dominic calls out. A chill goes down my spine as I stop and look at him. “Have a seat here, please.” He gestures to a chair behind him, and sure enough, a folder lies there with my name on it. “Thank you,” I manage and sit. A bit unnerved, I look around and recognize the members of the board, but no one else. Who are these people? Folding my hands on the table, I try to look confident and purposeful, even though I feel neither. I have no idea why I’m here. Dominic stands with his legs apart. His dark gray suit is so finely tailored and conforms to his body so well, it’s impossible to look away. I’ve never seen him appear anything besides in control, but he’s razor sharp today. “Good morning,” he says to the room. “I’d like to introduce my brother, Alexander. He’ll be frequenting The Rexford in the coming weeks as he gets reacquainted with the business.” “Reacquainted?” Xander stands. “That would assume I had anything to do with The Rexford in the first place.” He smiles, looking around the table, and shoves his hands into his pants pockets much like Dominic tends to do. People smile back as if he made a joke, but I don’t. Dominic tenses as Xander slaps him on the shoulder. “Who better to educate me on the inside workings of The Rexford than my capable, business-savvy brother?” The two men look at each other. I feel the dig in Xander’s words. If I notice, so do others, I’m sure. But I don’t dare look around the room to see reactions. Dominic seems unaffected. He indicates a folder before him on the table. “The 100th anniversary of The Rexford is coming up fast. As you know, we’ll be hosting a gala to celebrate, as well as launching special marketing and promotions.” He opens his folder and everyone does the same, including me. I skim the papers inside. What I see looks pretty par for the course. Not that I’m an expert on gala-planning, but none of it really stands out to me. “We need this to be big. Memorable. Exciting. I’d appreciate if each of you would think over the event plan, and let me know by tomorrow if you have thoughts or additional ideas.”

Dominic introduces a woman from the public relations department who chats about media coverage, and then other departments pitch in too with regular business updates. Soon, the hour is over, and the meeting is dismissed. I still don’t know what I’m doing here. I was shadowing Dominic as part of my internship, but that was before the big scene in his suite. Now, I don’t know where I stand. I gather my things, unsure if I should stay or head down to work my shift at the front desk. I’m just about to leave when Dominic beckons. “To my office please, Ms. Evans.” The formality in his voice feels like a slap in the face. So, he’s pretending like nothing happened. My heart sinks, but I stalk past him and down the hallway. I can be coolly professional, too. I wait in his office, trying to stay calm. I don’t want him to know that he’s having any effect on me, so I school my features to display nothing. If I’m rigid, I can be prepared for whatever he has to say. It won’t hurt, because I won’t let it. I hope. “Sit, please.” He breezes into the office and motions to the plush leather chairs by his desk. I don’t; I stay put, keeping the damn folder against me like a shield. Dom pauses, looking at me. Then he steps closer, and reaches out to softly touch my arm. I automatically lean into him. Damn it. I want to be resolute, but his touch? It breaks me. “I handled things badly the other night.” “I agree.” I clench my jaw and say nothing else, but he doesn’t back off. He caresses my cheek, then pulls me closer, not into a passionate clinch, but a simple hug instead. I’m disarmed. Feeling him hold me like this, almost tender, I can’t help but relax. Still, I can’t just roll over. Not after what he’s put me through. “You were kind of an asshole,” I tell him, my head still resting against his chest. I feel him chuckle. “It’s not funny.” I push him away. “Do you have any idea how humiliated I was, with Xander walking in? And then you just ordered me out of there.” “I’m sorry.” Dom looks sincere. “I didn’t know what to do, I wasn’t expecting him. I know, I shouldn’t have treated you like that. It’s just… Fuck, Xander. He’s always ruining everything.” He looks so frustrated, my heart melts a little. “But it can’t be that bad,” I say hesitantly. “He doesn’t have control of the company. You do.” Dom shakes his head. “He’s going to cause problems. There’s a reason my father left me fifty-one percent of this company. Xander is exactly the ally that Blaine Prescott needs to bring me down.” “Xander would sell out the hotel?” I exclaim, shocked. “Not on purpose, no,” Dom admits. “Xander isn’t disloyal. He’s just reckless. Careless and impulsive and needy. He leaves a trail of destruction in his wake, and

I’ve spent our entire fucking lives cleaning up after him!” I can see it on his face, the weight of responsibility. Not just for the company, or his family’s legacy, but for his brother too. I remember what he said that first night at the Drake. No one is ever waiting for me. He has no one to listen. No one to understand. Nobody except me. “No one tells you, do they?” “Tells me what?” he asks. My heart aches for him. I have Callie and Emily to keep me on my game, to encourage me. Dominic is the strength and the backbone of this hotel, but he’s all alone. “That you’re doing a good job.” His brow crinkles as if he can’t comprehend what I’m saying. I worry that I’ve overstepped. I’m not sure why that came spilling out, but I mean it. And he needs to hear it. I step forward, and press a kiss to his lips. Dominic relaxes against me, and for one blissful moment, it’s like nothing else matters in the world. The ringing of his phone breaks the moment. Dominic pulls back and grabs his cellphone. “Hold on,” he orders, before turning back to me. “Eight o’clock tonight. Dress up.” “What? Why?” Dom gives me a determined look. “We’re going to finish what we started.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“God, what I wouldn’t give to be the tasty filling in the middle of a Rexford

sandwich.” “Ew!” I throw my lipstick at where Callie’s laying on my bed, staring at pictures of Dom and Xander in the gossip columns. I’m trying to get ready for my date tonight, but I’m panicking because I don’t know what Dominic has planned. Dinner? A club? An all-night sex marathon over his desk? I want to be prepared, but it’s hard picking an outfit when I don’t know if it’s meant to be admired or ripped off. “No, not the blue.” Emily stops me as I reach for a short, tight number. “Go with black, it’s always a classic.” I pull on the dress and look in the mirror, having flashbacks from when the girls helped me get ready the first night I met Dom. Then, I felt way out of character getting so dressed up, but tonight my reflection looks more like myself. I wonder if I’ve changed since then, and whether that’s a good thing. So much has happened in just a few short weeks. I let out a whimper. “What am I even doing, you guys? He’s a Rexford. He has everything. Money. Power. And I’m… I’m…” “Juliet Evans, and you’re brilliant, loyal, and ambitious.” Emily steps up behind me and fastens a gorgeous necklace around my neck. It’s one of her own designs: Swarovski crystals falling in a delicate waterfall over my collarbone and cleavage. She gives me a reassuring smile in the mirror. “He’s the lucky one to be dating a girl like you.” “But what if I’m out of my depth?” I ask. “How are you going to learn to swim if you don’t dive in the deep end?” she replies, and I think I see a wistful look on her face. Emily’s always played it safe, but I wonder if she secretly dreams of adventure and excitement like this. Before I can say anything, she steps back and spins me around, giving me a final nod of approval. “You’re ready.” But am I really? “Thanks, Em.” I hug her just as the doorbell rings. “Shit! The apartment’s a mess!” Callie leaps up. “Hurry and get your shoes on,

Jules. You can’t let him walk in here!” I scramble for my heels, listening as Callie’s voice sweetens up just outside the bedroom door. Dominic’s low tone comes after hers as they make small talk. Shoes on, I give myself one last look in the mirror and then head out into the living room. Dominic is framed in the doorway, wearing a perfectly-cut navy suit. Immediately, I give thanks Em steered me to the classic black dress. Dom looks classy and totally hot, like he just stepped out of a designer fashion spread. Forget dinner. He’s the main course and I want him naked, with whipped cream on his abs for dessert. “Hey.” The awe in my voice is embarrassing, but I can’t help it. “Hey.” Callie clears her throat, snapping me out of my daydream. “Oh. Dominic, these are my roommates, Callie and Emily.” He shakes their hands in turn and I swear I’ve never seen Emily blush so red. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He glances around the place with an amused grin, and I feel myself flushing too, now. This is way too awkward, and I don’t want him hanging out in our crappy apartment for a moment longer than necessary. “Ready?” I ask, steering him out. “Don’t wait up!” I call back over my shoulder, as the door slams shut. “Oh my God! He’s freaking hot!” Callie’s voice echoes down the hallway. Shit! I sneak a look at Dom, but he’s smiling. Amused as always. “She thinks I’m hot.” “She’s female,” I laugh. He holds the exit door for me and I purposely brush against him as I pass. His hand reclaims its place on my back. “Flattering, but it’s your opinion I care about.” I grab his tie. His eyes widen in surprise, but it feels great to take charge. He makes me bold. He makes me crazy. I stand on my tip-toes and pull him down to me. “Are you fishing for compliments, Rexford?” “Maybe.” There’s a flash of lust in his eyes, and I wonder who’s really in control, but I don’t care. I kiss him hard, savoring every moment. His hands encircle my waist, pulling my hips against his solid torso. I moan against his mouth. “I think you’re OK,” I breathe as I pull back. “In case you’re not catching on.” “Damn it, Juliet. What are you doing to me?” Dom clenches his jaw. “I don’t know…” I tease. “What am I doing?” Dom takes my hand and lowers it to the front of his pants. His cock stirs against my palm, and I feel a rush of heat. God, I want him. I want to curl my fingers around him and tease him until his eyes roll in the back of his head. I’ve never been one for exhibitionism, but right now I don’t care that we’re in my building’s hallway where anyone could walk in. I massage him through his pants, but he grabs my hand and pulls it away. “Save it for dessert.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my fingers,

moving to my palm. I forget to breathe as he swirls his tongue there. “Let’s go.” We head downstairs and outside, and I’m surprised to find a silver Jaguar parked there instead of a limo. “What is this, car number three?” I ask, only partly joking. Dom chuckles, taking the joke. “I call this one my weekend Jag.” I laugh. “Gee, sucks to be rich.” The car is sleek and luxurious inside, and I relax as he drives us through the evening traffic. When I’m not looking at his gorgeous profile, I’m eyeing how well his thighs fill out his pants. I can’t shake the memories of him above me, his face tense with passion. My body twists tighter, anticipation rising. “Here we are.” I snap out of it as we pull up to Vine, the most exclusive restaurant on this side of Chicago. A valet opens my door and holds a hand out. “Good evening, Mr. Rexford. Ma’am.” Dom offers his arm to me and leads me inside. “Have you been here before?” he asks. I shake my head. “No. Callie has been trying to get a reservation here for over a year, just to say she has one.” Inside, the place is packed. There’s dark wallpaper and ornate chandeliers, with a wrought iron balcony running around the top of the open main floor. I’m in a state of giddy awe as we walk through the room. People stop talking to look at us, and I hear whispers as we pass. I guess Dom is like a celebrity in this town. The hostess shows us to the best table in the house: right in the middle of the action. But Dom frowns, and lowers his voice to speak quietly to the woman. “Of course,” she says quickly. “I just thought…I’m sorry.” She quickly takes us to a new table, in the back of the room. “Is something wrong?” I ask Dom, confused. “No. I just want us to have some privacy.” He caresses my bare arm as he speaks. I’m not going to argue with that. We’re seated in a more secluded booth, but still, people nearby are glancing over. Dom murmurs to the sommelier and waiter, before settling back and focusing his gaze on me. My pulse quickens immediately now that we’re finally alone. Sort of. “So, this is what it’s like, being you,” I say, looking around. “What do you mean?” “The celebrity treatment. I bet the nine month waiting list for a reservation here doesn’t apply to you.” He looks amused. “The owner was a friend of my father’s. This table is nothing more than a favor from an old friend.” “Look around. Everyone is staring at us.” He reaches for my hand. “Because you’re the most beautiful woman in the room.”

Fine. I’ll take the compliment. But I still shake my head at him to let him know he’s not off the hook. I’m curious what it’s like to be him. Dom sighs. “People are impressed by the name, sure. But it’s just a name. Take that away and I’m an ordinary man, subject to cheap wine and waiting lists like everyone else.” The alcove suddenly seems more private. Maybe because I block out the chatter around us and focus on him, excited that he might open up a little more about himself. “Tell me about ordinary Dominic.” Dom pauses. “Well, ordinary Dominic used to scrub toilets on the fourth floor after school for less than minimum wage.” “No way.” I can picture him, tall and gangly in his expensive prep school uniform, holding a plunger. He shrugs. “I shadowed the maintenance crew for an entire summer, learning how to fix everything from wobbly door handles to electrical fixtures. Didn’t get paid a dime for it, either.” I think of his hands, too calloused to be tapping at a keyboard all day. “You’re still secretly fixing things, aren’t you?” Dom looks surprised, then gives me a grin. “Every chance I get. I like putting things to order. Gives me a sense of harmony amid the chaos.” “That’s great. I never realized.” Dom shrugs. “I’ve had a lot of privilege, but that doesn’t mean I never had to work for it. Unlike my brother,” he adds, his smile turning colder. I want him to talk about this—I know his brother’s return is weighing on him— but I don’t get the chance before our food arrives. “Wow,” I blink, as the wait staff unload dish after dish of amazing-looking food. “Did you order for us?” “I wanted you to taste everything I love.” The waiter gestures, “Butternut ravioli with a filling of white chocolate, butternut squash and egg yolk, set in a fois gras sauce. Enjoy.” Dominic places his napkin on his lap and I do the same. The tension that crept into his face when he mentioned Alexander fades away now. I’m glad. The textures and flavors of the meal are rich and delicate and I savor each bite. I glance up and find him watching me – looking as if he wants to savor me the way I’m eating this food. Sparks of desire shoot between my legs, and I take a sip of wine to cool down. “I’ve been thinking,” I say in a rush. If I don’t get control over the growing ache in my panties, I’m going to be dragging him out of here by his tie. “About the gala.” “Me, too.” He pauses. “Perhaps we should cancel it.” I set down my fork. “What? Why?” “It might be better to wait until the drama dies down.” “No,” I challenge. “This is the perfect time to remind people of the Rexford’s heritage and the things that make it so renowned.” The ideas I’ve been mulling

over spark with new life. “There’s a reason Chicago has so many historic buildings preserved around the city. People here are proud of their past and they love to show it off.” For a moment I think of my dad, but I push the memories away before I can miss him too much and lose track of where I’m going with this. He looks interested. “Tell me more.” I pause as nerves roll through me. Who am I to be suggesting anything? But he looks genuinely interested, so I explain. “The plans for the gala right now are standard-issue party stuff: black tie, canapés, champagne flutes making the rounds on silver trays…there’s nothing exciting about it. But we could play up the history more, bring out old art or photographs, maybe even make it a theme with costumes. Showcase the impressive roster of celebrities and royalty who’ve enjoyed the hotel. Bring back the old menus, and then, let’s show them how the hotel plans to sprinkle modern luxury with the—” Dominic sees someone behind me. His face changes, tensing. I turn. It’s Blaine Prescott. “Was I interrupting?” he asks, looking smug. Or maybe that’s just how his face is, I can’t tell. He looks super preppy in a polo shirt and khakis, all he’s missing is an obnoxious Rolex and—no, wait, there it is. I feel like telling him the 80’s called and want their movie villain back. “Not at all,” Dom says smoothly. “My colleague and I were just discussing some ideas for our big anniversary party.” Blaine eyes me nastily, his gaze raking over my body in a way that makes my skin crawl. “I have to give you credit, Dominic. Pulling in a fresh young…talent…to try and dig you out of your hole. Well done.” He scratches his belly and leers at my chest again. Ugh. “How are things?” Blaine continues. “The promotion I ran hit you hard, didn’t it, Rexford? Don’t answer that. I know it did. But, hey, it won’t be your problem for much longer, will it?” Dominic’s lips curve into a humorless smile, the kind that radiates danger and the threat of sudden violence. I expect Blaine’s lip to get busted at any second, but to his credit, Dom remains seated and far more composed than I feel. His ability to handle, well, everything, amazes me. Dom puts his hand up, and a server comes immediately over. “Yes, sir, Mr. Rexford?” “See that Mr. Prescott returns to his table with a glass of port, with my compliments.” The server gulps, but Blaine can take a hint. “See you around, Rexford.” He strolls away. There’s silence.

“Are you OK?” I ask. Dom’s face is set like stone. He throws his napkin down. “Suddenly, I’ve lost my appetite. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

W e drive to the Rexford in silence. Anger is still rolling in waves off Dom, and I

don’t know what to say. I accompany him up to the penthouse, and he closes the door behind us and tosses his keys down. “I need a drink,” he sighs, heading to the bar. He loosens his tie, but I hope he doesn’t take it off. In fact, I want him in that suit. The way it fits his body, tight and commanding, is sinful. Maybe I can help get Blaine off his mind. I cross the room after him and move in close. “The last time we were here, I was naked on your bed.” Dom turns, his anger fading, replaced with lust. “I remember.” “Do you remember what you were doing to me?” I ask, tracing down the front of his shirt. “Vividly.” “Well then,” I drop a kiss against his neck. “Feel free to pick up where you left off.” Dom chuckles, and his commanding expression returns. “I think we’re going to do something different this time.” His lips graze my ear, and he whispers a thrilling demand. “Get on your knees.” His hands fall to my shoulders. He doesn’t apply any pressure, but I feel their weight as a question. Do I want to submit to him…to please him this way? God, yes. Dominic makes my inner sex vixen come out with a snap of his fingers. Hell, he does it by simply breathing. I slowly lower to the ground until I’m kneeling. My heart is pumping so hard, but I’m eager to please him. He’s already erect, the thick length of him pressing against the fabric of his pants. I trace the outline of his cock with one finger and he sucks in a sharp breath. His hand slides into my hair, gripping a handful. “Take off my belt.” My hands are shaking as I first unbutton his suit coat and spread it wide. The belt slips easily from the buckle and through the loops. “Zipper.”

I unfasten the waist and let the zipper fall, my panties getting wetter as I part the sides of his pants, freeing his magnificent cock. God, he’s big. His hands go into my hair again, lifting it, gripping it as I stroke him gently. Teasing. “You know what I want, Juliet.” “Do I?” I challenge with a grin. “Maybe you’d better tell me.” His hands tighten, twisting my hair while pushing me closer to his cock. “Suck me off, Juliet. Hard.” Closing my mouth over him, I take him into my mouth. He groans, his cock twitching in response, growing even harder as I angle my head and take him deeper toward the back of my throat. “Fuck. Juliet, yes.” The strangled sound of his voice inflames me. Slowly, I pull back, dragging my teeth lightly along his rigid length. I love the way he tugs my hair as I work him, in and out, bolder now as I find my rhythm. I glance up to check, and find him looking down at me. Damn, that’s hot. I hold eye contact as I lick along his shaft again, until Dom lets out a groan and tugs me closer. I turn my attention back to his massive cock, bobbing along the length until he’s cursing under his breath. It’s powerful, knowing that I’m making him feel this way. That he wants me to. That he wants me. Suddenly, he pulls back and yanks me to my feet. His mouth crashes onto mine before I can even think. Dominic backs me into the sideboard and reaches for the hem of my skirt. The silky material gathers around my waist. He spins me and bends me over. A needy gasp comes from my lips as I instinctively spread my legs. “This is so hot, Juliet. Seeing you like this, your ass in the air. Fuck.” Dominic slips a hand between my legs and under my panties. I push back against him. “Yes, please.” He kisses down along my spine while his fingers find my clit. He rubs me in slow, sure strokes, sending pleasure slamming through my body. I moan out loud, trying to lean against him and press into his hand at the same time. His lips nibble a trail over the dip in my spine to the rise in my ass and leave flutters of sensation in their wake. He rubs my clit harder, faster as he grabs my ass cheek and spanks me. “Oh!” “Did you like that?” He doesn’t wait for my answer as he spanks me again. I moan in pleasure as he quickly runs his hand over the spot. The soothing warmth blends with the sting as the pressure in my clit builds. I don’t think I can hold on much longer. He kneads my ass, dropping slaps against the tender flesh and I’m suddenly in freefall as ecstasy shatters between my legs. “Oh my God,” I moan, panting hard. “My sweet, dirty girl. Turn around.” He rips open a condom and slides it on, then helps me up onto the sideboard. I

grip his shoulders for balance as he sits me on the edge and spreads my legs. I brace myself to feel his cock inside, but instead, he kneels and buries his head between my thighs. Two flicks of his tongue and I’m crying out again. “Jesus, fuck, Dominic!” I grab handfuls of his hair as he licks me, working his tongue over my tender clit until the remaining heat of orgasm that was left behind rushes to the surface again. I fucking come again and I’m still in the middle of it, grinding helplessly against his mouth, when he leans back and rises to his feet, pulling my hips forward to slam straight into me with one hard, deep, perfect thrust. Fuck! I throw my head back, gripping the edge of the sideboard for dear life as he fucks me with everything he’s got. I can’t move…nothing coherent will come out of my mouth. There’s only the sensation of his cock pistoning deep inside and the animal sound of his grunts in my ear. Harder. Deeper. Faster. I’m completely drenched. Dom plunges into me, slamming so hard, so good, that my eyes fly open. As a rush of pleasure radiates through me again in another breathtaking climax, I feel Dom’s body stiffen then release with a loud roar. I catch the look on his face as he comes. It’s raw and honest and sweet, and as our eyes lock, I feel myself go weak. The look on his face. I can’t even. I’m gasping for breath as he falls against me and rests his head on my chest. I hold him tight, and I’m still falling. I’m afraid I won’t know how to stop.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

D om has early meetings, so I take a cab home, and spend hours lying awake in

bed. My endorphins are too high for me to sleep. That, and the replay of crazy, hot sex that runs through my mind every time I try to close my eyes. I fall asleep right before dawn and, somehow, manage to get up in time for my shift. I walk back into the hotel, tired and deliciously sore. Dom is at the front desk, talking to some employees. I send him a secret grin, and wonder if he was up half the night, too. I slow my pace as I approach so I have more time to drink him in. He’s dressed casually—dark jeans, a blue and white pinstripe button down, no tie. His features are neutral as he watches me approach, but I see the look in his eyes: hungry, like he wants a repeat of last night ASAP. I wonder how fast I can get him out of those clothes. “Good morning, Ms. Evans.” I’m scared to give anything away around the other staff. It takes all my will to smile politely instead of pulling him in for a kiss. “Good morning, Mr. Rexford.” He walks to my side and tilts his head to indicate the elevators. I fall into step beside him, aware that staff is glancing at us. It’s weird how attuned I am now to other people’s attention. But maybe that’s because I’ve never given anyone so much reason to stare at me before. When I’m with Dominic, it’s like there’s a spotlight following us around, and nobody can tear their eyes away from us. Part of me likes it. He leans down and whispers in my ear. “Did you sleep well last night?” We’re alone as we stop at the elevator, so I look at him, really look at him. Our eyes meet with a force I feel all the way to my toes. Will my heart always flip when I see him? Will I always get this rush of exhilaration when he’s near? God, I hope so. “No. I didn’t.” He smiles. “Good. Neither did I.” The doors open and we step inside. Dominic stands close, his fingers sliding over the back of my hand. “There’s a team waiting for you in the boardroom.” I stop. “What? Why?”

“I’d like you to share your ideas for the anniversary gala and get them implemented.” “You’re kidding.” I panic. The event isn’t that far away. There’s no time to make changes now. His hand slides into mine with a gentle squeeze. “I’m confident in you. Your ideas? Make them happen.” The door opens, but my legs won’t move. I’m thrilled and horrified that he took me seriously. Feeling like I’m in a fog, I walk beside him to the conference room. Right before we enter, I realize we’re still holding hands. I let go, though I desperately want to hang on. Dominic, being him, simply saunters in and takes command of introductions while I hover beside him with my heart two seconds away from full-blown cardiac arrest. “Juliet Evans, please meet the team from our events department.” Dom makes the introductions and then leaves. “Come and see me when you’re finished.” His eyes drop briefly to my mouth before he exits, leaving me standing at the head of the table in a barely-controlled panic. The women are looking at me, warmly. Expectantly. I need a defibrillator. “I’m…just an intern,” I stammer. Oh. My. God. Get it together, Juliet! “However,” I continue, sending up a silent prayer of thanks to my father, “I’m well-acquainted with the Rexford’s history and heritage and deeply invested in the hotel’s continued success, so I have a few ideas for the gala that Mr. Rexford thought we could explore.” Once the words are out, I feel stronger, more confident. I glance down at the table and notice a stack of old books next to a paper with my name on it. Gilded script on the top book reads, Guest Book. He got me the hotel’s historic guest books! “Mr. Rexford spoke highly of you,” one of the women says, Diane, I think her name is. She’s older, intimidating, but her smile is warm. “We’re excited to hear what you have in mind.” My throat goes tight, but I swallow down my emotion. I suppose I always figured Dom wasn’t really listening to me whenever I talked about my love for the history and architecture of the city. Instead, he’s encouraging me and giving me input into a major business event. “I want to go back to the eighteen hundreds,” I say. “And show the history of The Rexford in a way that will have people talking about and remembering what real, classic luxury is.” I run my fingers over the guest book. “Three movies were filmed here. Countless celebrities and royalty have stayed in our rooms. The Rexford survived the Great

Fire in 1871 and acted as an underground speakeasy during Prohibition in the 1920’s and early 30’s.” I have them hooked already. The women look at me intently, fueling me. I go on; all the ideas I’ve been pondering spill out. The meeting takes off from there. An hour and a half later, we have a plan. Two evenings before the gala, we’ll screen films that feature The Rexford, offering hors d’oeuvres from the posh new menu and vintage wines. The night before will be a 1920’s themed evening, complete with servers in period costume, a whiskey bar, and a throwback drink menu featuring cocktails served in the forbidden speakeasy. The gala will feature entrees from the historic menu. I have pages of notes by the time we’re done, and a promise from the team to get to work on everything immediately. They all exit, heading back to their offices, and I’m left alone in the conference room. I take a minute to look out the windows and gather my composure. I did it! My first big meeting, and the first time I’ve ever presented something like that. I just hope my ideas are what this place needs—and that Dominic will be proud of me. Excited to tell him about it, I head to his office and knock lightly on the door. “Come in.” “Guess what?” I practically bounce as I enter the room, I’m so full of energy, but an unfamiliar voice makes me stop. “Well, aren’t you just a breath of fresh air?” It’s not Dominic. It’s Alexander, kicked back in his brother’s chair with his feet on the desk. My excitement fades. “I’m sorry,” I say, trying to keep my tone neutral. “I didn’t realize you were here.” Alexander puts his hands behind his head and gives me a wolfish grin. “Just waiting for the king,” he smirks. “You know how it goes. Then again, maybe you don’t. I can’t imagine anyone keeps you waiting.” I collect myself. Alexander is an interloper, and Dom definitely doesn’t want him here. Still, I want to know what’s going on with him. “I can come back later,” I offer, and head back towards the door. But I keep my steps slow enough that he has time to watch my ass as I retreat. I hate using myself as bait like this, but if my plan works, Dominic’s brother might tell me something I could use later. “Why? Stay. Sit.” He gestures to a chair like he owns the place. Or at least, more than twenty percent. “Let’s chat. I have to admit, I’m curious about you.” I find that hard to believe, but I play along in the hope of gathering information. “Really? Why?” Xander gives me a knowing look. “Dominic is…different around you. I’d like to know more about the woman who managed to bring out the better side of my brother.” Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. I take a seat. Truth be told, I’m curious about

Xander, too. I tilt my head to study him. He really is the opposite of his brother: relaxed where Dom is tense, charming while Dom stays cool at all times. I clear my throat and attempt to steer Xander’s interest away from me. “Dominic seems…complex.” Xander breaks into a grin. “That’s just a nice way to say he’s a difficult asshole.” His words are light, as if he’s joking. But I can tell, he’s not. “You’re diplomatic, Juliet. I like that about you.” “He’s not an asshole.” I find myself defending Dom. “He’s demanding. There’s a difference.” “Is there?” He gives me a look. “We’ve had our disagreements, so let’s just say my perspective is—” “Biased?” He laughs. “Perhaps.” He reaches for the drink he has on the desk, a glass of something I’m betting isn’t iced tea. “You should have seen my grandfather fawn all over him. He was always the favorite.” Now we’re getting somewhere. “That sounds rough, especially when you’re young. Is that why you went off racing in Europe?” I ask. “No, sweetheart. That was for the beautiful women, like you.” He raises his glass in a flirtatious toast. I smile and roll my eyes. “Come on.” He shrugs. “It was something to do. I mean, it’s not like Dom would let me be a part of his empire here.” I can hear the bitterness in his tone. Interesting. Dom feels like he’s had all the weight of responsibility fall on his shoulders, while Xander resents not having a chance to work at the top. It’s a shame they’ve never been able to find a balance together. “It’s too bad you stayed away for so long. But now that you’re back, I hope you and Dominic can work things out,” I say honestly. Xander doesn’t seem to absorb my words, nor their implications. “Do you have siblings, Juliet?” “No. I always wished I did.” He smiles at me, but there’s a hard glint in his eyes. “Then you wouldn’t understand.” “Maybe not.” I take a chance, and add, “But I do understand that feeling second-best could be heartbreaking.” There’s silence. Xander doesn’t acknowledge my comment at all. But when he swivels in the chair to pour another drink, I feel like he knows exactly what I’m saying. “Dom likes to shut me out—always has, but I’m going to prove him wrong this time.” His face is determined when he turns back to me. He raises his glass. “Cheers to difficult assholes.” But he’s not looking at me – his gaze is behind me, to someone in the office doorway.

I know even before turning who it is. Dominic stands there, hands in his pockets, looking pissed. Guilt washes over me. Sure, I’m not doing anything wrong, but I can tell from the stormy look on his face that Dom thinks I’m fraternizing with the enemy. “There’s a problem at the Paris hotel.” He gives Xander a sharp glare. “We’re leaving immediately.” Alexander sets down his glass. He actually looks pleased. “Great. I’ll get my bag and—” “Not you.” Dom dismisses him with a snort. “The last time you stepped foot in that hotel, you left ten thousand dollars worth of damage and a harassment lawsuit. I’ll be handling this alone. With you, Juliet.” Wait, what? Did he just say…Paris? “Go home and pack,” he adds, giving me a private smile. “Our flight leaves tonight.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I barely have time to rush home and pack before a driver is at my door to take me to

the airport, where Dominic’s private plane is waiting for us. I can’t believe it. My nerves are racing as I walk up the steps and into the plane’s luxurious cabin. I have no idea what to expect except that I’m going to Paris. Paris! Dominic is already waiting in the cabin. “Welcome aboard.” He takes my bag with a smile and leads me to the rear of the plane. It’s truly incredible, with plush, recliner-looking chairs, polished wood accents, and glass-topped tables. Leather bench seats line the space beneath the windows. There’s a flat screen television, and beneath it, a… “There’s a fireplace in the plane,” I say dumbly. It’s gas, I’m sure, but still. There’s a fireplace. Inside the plane! “There’s one in the bedroom, too.” He opens the door at the back and I gasp. There’s a private room in there with a massive bed. “This is definitely an upgrade,” I crack, nervous. “The last time I flew anywhere I was jammed in the middle of a row with some kid kicking the back of my seat for three hours straight.” “You don’t have to worry about that here.” Dom puts my bag down and pulls me in for a kiss. I melt into him, gripping his shirt as his palms trace my shoulders and down my arms. “Do you have any idea what I’m going to do with you in Paris, Juliet?” His voice is a throaty whisper. I shiver with anticipation. “All the ways I’m going to fuck you…” he continues, sliding his hands down to grip my ass. “How much you’re going to love it, how you’re going to be begging me for more?” Gently, he palms my breast through my blouse, pebbling my nipple and making me gasp. “Is that a promise?” I whisper, feeling light-headed. “An absolute promise.” There’s someone approaching down the aisle, but I can’t resist leaning up and murmuring in his ear. “I can’t wait to earn my Mile High Club badge.”

He grins. “I like how you think.” The sound of someone clearing their throat breaks the moment. “Mr. Rexford? We’re ready.” It’s the flight attendant. “Excellent.” Dom releases me. “Come then,” he tells me with a wink, “We’ll find our seats for take-off.” We get settled in the main cabin, although it’s like no airplane cabin I’ve ever been in. The chair is so wide, I can probably curl up and sleep in it. I buckle up, and try to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. “Something wrong?” Dom asks. I flush. “Planes…aren’t my thing. I’m fine once we reach altitude, but taking off rattles me.” “Don’t worry. This pilot is one of the best. It’s very safe.” “I know,” I say, trying to brush off my anxiety. “It’s just a stupid phobia.” Dom takes my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. I hold on tight, bracing myself. The engines rev up, getting louder as the seconds tick by. “You really are scared?” He frowns. “It’s nothing. Ignore me.” I gulp. “Let’s see if we can’t distract you…” Dom pulls a blanket down and spreads it across both our laps. I’m confused, until his hand disappears under the blanket and caresses my thigh. By increments, he slides his hand higher, pushing up the hem of my skirt in the process. I swallow hard. “I’ll need a lot of distraction.” Dom laughs. “I didn’t mean it like that!” I exclaim, but he just leans over and envelops my mouth in a firm kiss. I try to relax, but I’m completely aware of his hand still stroking upwards between my bare thighs. Dom gently nudges until I move my legs wider apart under the blanket. I catch my breath, now not sure whether my heart is racing in fear – or desire. The plane starts to taxi down the runway and I grab his arm, feeling silly. But Dom’s fingers don’t stop. They trace from my inner thigh to the edge of my panties. I let my thighs part a little more, relaxing – until the hostess passes us. I tense up. “All buckled in and set for takeoff?” she asks. “Ready to go,” Dom answers, still tracing up my inner thigh. She moves on, and takes her own seat at the back of the plane. “Dom…” I shift in my seat, glancing over at her. My body is demanding, but my brain is screaming abort, abort! “We…could always just talk.” “Not as fun.” He makes lazy circles on my skin, and I close my eyes to sink into the sensation. I fight to keep it together. “I wanted to explain, about Alexander.” “No.” His fingers slip under my panties and rest at the top of my mound. Damn him. I reach beneath the blanket to grab his wrist, arching into him just a little.

“But…” His finger glides between my pussy lips, tracing a line between them without going deeper. Licks of delicious heat uncurl in his wake, my legs falling completely open. Dominic groans low and leans into me, and I shiver as his breath touches my ear. “My brother quits things as fast as he starts them. He’s insignificant and a problem, and not worth talking about. Not when I have more important things to focus on…” He touches my clit, presses against it until a burst of pleasure goes through me, and I nearly buck off the seat. My fingers wrap around the back of his hand as he starts to stroke me with fierce, quick, relentless touches. “Oh my God,” I breathe before clenching my lips together in an attempt to stay quiet. The way he’s touching me is perfection and the pressure inside is building fast and intense. “Keep your hand on mine while I make you come.” His voice is low, commanding. “Do you like this? The way I’m touching you?” He kisses the edge of my ear. I nod and dig my nails into the back of his hand. He slows his pace, finding a soft-yet-firm rhythm that quickly carries me away. I turn my head, silently begging for his kiss. He presses his mouth to mine and I’m both frustrated and soothed by it. I want to let loose and I can’t. “You’re so hot, baby. So wet. Just for me,” he whispers into my panting mouth. He thrusts two fingers into me, slides back up to rub my clit and then thrusts again, harder. I dig the fingers of my free hand into the arm rest as he kisses me again, alternating thrusts and strokes until the flickers of orgasm threaten to burst. “I can’t wait to fuck you. Hard. Fast. Have you suck me off, your hot mouth on my cock.” It’s so good, I can’t hold it back. Release slams into me and I hang onto him, to the seat, squeezing my eyes shut and pressing my lips together to keep from crying out. I hear Dom laugh softly. He’s a delicious bastard. A dirty talking sex God, and he’s going to pay for this. “I would have loved to hear you scream.” He slowly slides his hand from between my legs and I feel drunk and weightless. “By the way, we took off a few minutes ago.” What? I glance to the window and see clouds. Dang, that worked really well. I readjust in my seat and move my skirt down. He looks amused as I kiss his cheek. “You’re an excellent distraction.” I tell him. THE FLIGHT GOES QUICKLY, and I barely notice the hours tick by between dozing off and watching Game of Thrones on Dominic’s iPad while he works from his laptop and

takes calls. I lay down to take a nap, but I don’t realize I’m sleeping until Dominic wakes me. “We’re here.” Outside, the airport lights shine brightly. We’re taxiing across the tarmac to the arrival gate. Apparently I missed the landing, too. We disembark, and head through customs before a driver meets us at the curb. I watch out the limo windows as we head to the hotel. “I can’t believe I’m in Paris.” I meant to think it, but I say it out loud. Dominic leans against me to look out the window, too. He doesn’t say anything, but I feel him smile. We head through the city, and I’m gawking at the gorgeous old buildings and chic tree-lined boulevards, a pastel blue sky dotted with picture-perfect clouds sweeping overhead. Eventually, we turn across a square and The Rexford Paris comes into view. I swear, my heart jumps into my throat. “Holy shit.” Dominic laughs at me. “Wait until you see the inside.” I’m craning my neck to see when my door opens and a man in white gloves helps me out. The hotel stands, imposing, with a view of the River Seine. It’s gorgeous, classical architecture with arched windows, massive columns and a carved marble statue at the entrance. Dominic joins me on the front steps and takes my hand. “Ready?” When have I ever been ready for anything with this man? I’m constantly taken by surprise when I’m with him. I nod and he speaks to the porter in French— surprise!—before leading me up the steps. I’m about to ask him if he’s fluent, but the words die on my lips. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. The lobby is an airy masterpiece of French Regency design with gilded molding and cream and light blue walls. Elaborate rugs create a walkway over a parquet floor, leading to a formal seating area with deep red loveseats and mahogany chairs. “Marie Antoinette is going to pop out any minute, isn’t she?” He looks up from his phone and attempts a smile. My attention returns solely to him. He’s been on and off his phone for most of the flight. Whatever problem brought us here must be big. I was hoping I could drag him straight to bed and return the come-your-brainsout favor, but he’s here for business, not pleasure. “Everything okay?” He sighs. “I’m sorry, Juliet, but this issue won’t wait. I was hoping to have some time to show you around, but I need to meet with everyone right away. Jean Luc will show you to our suite. Anything you need, just let him know.” I’m disappointed, but I realize just how tired I am all of a sudden. Even with the nap on the plane, my internal clock is all over the place. It’s five AM in Chicago right now, and my body is screaming out for sleep. “That’s fine,” I tell him. “I’ll take a rest, you go take care of the company.”

The concierge shows me to the suite. I nearly drop my purse when I walk in. It’s…awe-inspiring. High ceilings, elegant artwork on the walls, incredible views. Jean Luc gives me a tour through the four room suite, filled with billowing lavender curtains, teardrop chandeliers and antique furniture. “Is there anything madam requires?” he asks, his accented words charming me. “No, thank you.” I stop in the middle of the room, wondering if I’m supposed to tip him, but Jean Luc has already retreated, closing the door behind him. I wander to the windows in a daze. A serving cart has champagne on ice, a bowl of fruit and a truffle tower. This. Is. Crazy! So crazy that I can barely keep my eyes open. I go lay down in the bedroom and spread my hands over the embroidered satin coverlet. The coolness of the fabric is soothing as I close my eyes…just for a minute… “Juliet.” Something warm touches my lips. Dominic’s sexy scent wraps around me, and I’m both comforted and aroused. “Mmm,” I mumble. “Open your eyes.” I do, and find his smiling face staring down at me. He kisses me, gathering me to him until my breasts press into his chest. We roll over on the bed, kissing like a pair of horny teenagers until my stomach rumbles loudly. I pull away, mortified, but Dominic only laughs. “Perfect timing. I have dinner planned.” I sit up and realize it’s dark outside. “Dinner? What time is it?” “Almost midnight. Come on, sleeping beauty. Let’s go.” Midnight? I’d been sleeping for hours! All the restaurants must be closed by now. “Wait,” I brush the hair from my face. “We can have dinner this late?” He reaches a hand to help me off the bed. “I’m a Rexford, remember?”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

This is a dream.

It has to be. I’m on a private boat, with a gourmet dinner laid out in front of me as we cruise down the River Seine. The water glitters, reflecting the lights of the city and the moon above us in the dark sky. It’s beautiful and amazing, and I’m completely enchanted. It’s like a dream come to life. All because of Dominic. He’s relaxed and I love how the soft lines of his face give a boyish touch to his very masculine appeal. I changed into a simple sundress and heeled sandals after he woke me in the hotel. The skirt is short enough to leave my skin bare to midthigh, a detail I’m enjoying as his hand rests on my knee. “Try this.” Dominic leans over, holding an oyster on the half shell. I’ve never tried them before and honestly, I’ve been eyeing them suspiciously since the waiter brought them out. “Too slimy.” I shake my head. “It’s a delicious kind of slime.” I playfully swat his hand away. “You’re a terrible salesman.” He takes the oyster for himself, tipping it into his mouth with an appreciative murmur. He picks up another and offers it to me again. “Try it now, or forever live with my disappointment.” There’s a teasing smile on his lips. “Really?” I laugh. “You’ll be disappointed if I don’t eat it?” “Devastated. Crushed.” “Sounds serious.” I grin. I’ve having fun with him. Away from Chicago, there’s a new playful side I never expected. Dom brings the shell closer to me and I find my lips parting. “I know how much you love to please me, Juliet.” Our eyes lock as I open my mouth. Sneaky bastard, thinking I’ll do anything to please him. The thing is, he’s right. I love making him happy, seeing him smile and knowing it’s because of me. He tips the shell and the oyster slides into my mouth. Wow. It’s rich and salty

and lemony on my tongue as I chew. I guess I can see what all the hype is about. Still, I don’t think I’ll be wanting another. Dominic leans in and chases it with a kiss. “See how pleased I am?” I roll my eyes and take a bite of my steak. It was served medium rare with a delicious béarnaise sauce. So much better. I’m about to take another forkful when Dominic clears his throat. He looks serious for a moment. “Juliet, kidding aside, you do…you make me happy.” He keeps his gaze on me and I see a flush climb into his cheeks. My breath catches. He’s opened up to me in bits and pieces, but never about us. I often wonder how he feels about me, if there’s something more. But I don’t let myself dwell on it because the answer might hurt too much. But now, he’s looking at me like this is for real. “Me too,” I whisper, my heart pounding. Dom squeezes my hand, then returns to his meal. He chuckles. “What?” I ask. “Nothing,” he smiles. “I was just thinking about the night we met. I’d say our one night stand turned out pretty well, wouldn’t you?” My heart drops. Suddenly, there’s ice water in my veins. He doesn’t know. That night we met, it wasn’t just an accidental encounter in the bar. I was there to seduce him, or at least, to help someone get incriminating photos. My roommate, Callie, works for a private investigator, but she was sick, so I was the one who showed up that night. I wasn’t expecting to meet a man like Dom. I wasn’t expecting any of this to happen at all. I take a gulp of my wine, trying to stay cool. I want to come clean—I hate that I’ve been lying to him all this time—but it’s too late now. I’ll just have to live with the guilt, and pray he never finds out. “Are you tired?” Dom asks, changing the subject. “Not at all.” Relieved to move the conversation on. “That power nap really did the trick.” “Do you want to take a walk? There’s something I’d like to show you.” The boat approaches a dock. A few minutes later, we’re secured and Dominic helps me ashore. The sidewalks are well lit as we stroll along the riverbank, past historic churches and amazing old buildings. I hold his hand, drinking it all in. I never could have imagined this. “…after the Resistance—” Dominic stops talking. “You’re not listening to anything I’m saying, are you?” I flush. “Sorry, it’s just that I’m a little overwhelmed here. I mean, just look at all this.” I gesture. He smiles. “And here I am, trying to impress you with all my history lessons. I’ll shut up now.” “No!” I protest. “I love history. I’m listening.”

Dom lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “I like the silence too. I like just being with you.” He turns down an old cobbled street lined with gorgeous old buildings. Flowering vines flow down from windowsills, scenting the air as we pass. I feel like I’m floating on cloud nine. Dominic glances down at me and our eyes catch, electric. Excitement sparks through me. I hold his hand tight, wanting him to stay this close, and he does, our arms brushing, our joined hands pressing against my hip. He glances down at me again and my breathing speeds up, my body turning into him before I even think about it. Dominic takes my face between his hands and kisses me deeply, parting my lips with his tongue and delving inside. I moan and slide my hands down his forearms, pulling him into me as a sharp ache pulses between my legs. I can’t get close enough. I want him against me, in me, on me—his taste, his warmth. All of him. Suddenly, he takes my arm and leads me back between the buildings. It’s a slim alleyway, set back from the street, out of sight. Dom presses me against the wall and claims my mouth again, harder now, hungry. Our kiss becomes frantic, Dominic’s hands caressing my body, over my stomach and up to cup and squeeze my breasts through my thin dress. I moan, arching eagerly into his touch as I return the favor: my own hands roving over the hard muscular planes of his chest. Already, I need more. I bring a hand to the waist of his pants. His cock is hard and straining, but when I reach to grip him, he pushes my hand aside. In one move, Dom grips my ass and lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist and slamming me back against the wall. Now, his cock is pressed hard against me, grinding in between my thighs, pressing against my panties and clit in delicious pressure. Yes. I grip his shoulders to keep from falling, wanting him right there, deep inside. “I need you, Juliet.” His voice is thick and low and the sound makes my pussy throb with a restless ache. I squirm against him, reaching between us to unzip his pants and free his thick, rigid cock. I stroke my thumb over his tip and press it against me, tracing the wet lines of my opening. Dom groans against my neck, grips my hips harder, and then suddenly slams into me in one hard stoke. I cry out, he feels so good. Dom draws a ragged breath. He withdraws, then plunges deeper again, deeper than ever before. His hips grind against my clit, the angle perfect as he thrusts. The bricks at my back keep me steady as he pistons in and out, and I dig my fingers into his shoulders, moaning softly as he gives me all he’s got. “Yes,” I whimper. “More.” I feel the pleasure all the way to my bones, rippling through my pussy with a fierce heat. Every thick inch of him caresses my inner walls as he pulls out and pumps back into me. My hands rove up and my fingers curl into his hair as his nails bite into my hips. He thrusts again and I don’t hold back, spiraling out of control, panting breathlessly as the orgasm rips through me and Dom gives a final surge.

“Fuck, Juliet!” he growls. I feel him explode inside me, his whole body shuddering with release as he joins me in ecstasy. I gasp for air, intense heat still rushing through me as we breathe hard together. His heartbeat thunders in his chest, and I concentrate on the feel of it as I let the world come back to me. “Oh, God,” I exclaim. “I just had sex in a Parisian alley.” He gives a low, throaty chuckle as he carefully sets me down. My legs feel weak, my whole body aches, but it’s a good sensation. It was worth it. We right our clothes and I smooth his hair back into place. Dominic kisses me softly before taking my hand again and leading me back to the sidewalk. I glance around, a little paranoid that someone overheard us. But we’re alone in the dark city. Dom waves down a cab, and we get in. He drapes an arm around my shoulder and sinks back against the seat, clearly exhausted, but I can’t stop looking at him. I can’t explain how I feel. Emotion battles in my chest: exhilaration and excitement at war with a deep content feeling. I’m happy with this man. Really happy. “What are you thinking?” Dom asks. I’m surprised by the question. I can’t tell him how I feel, because I’m not completely sure what it is. Besides, it’s intense. And scary. And I’m not sure what to make of it. “That this all seems like a dream,” I say instead. “Or a fairy tale.” “And what am I?” Dom asks, smiling in the dark. “The villain, or prince charming?” “Do you even need to ask?” I lean over and drop a kiss on his lips. “Disney should hire you.” BACK AT THE HOTEL, we return to the suite. I excuse myself to the restroom and freshen up. Splashing cold water on my face helps bring me back to Earth. So does sliding into my satin PJ bottoms and tank top. When I step out into the bedroom, Dominic is standing by the bed. Shirtless. Barefoot. Smoking hot in just his jeans, tight chest and abs on display, a deep V of muscle edging his hips and disappearing below his waist. I could stand here and look at him forever, but he reaches out and beckons to me, commanding. “Come here, Juliet.” I feel a shiver of excitement at the dominant note in his voice. It was thrilling out in that alleyway, to be so spontaneous and uncontrolled, but now I see Dom is back in his element: calm and collected, and totally in command. It turns me on like crazy.

I obediently walk over and reach for him, but he shakes his head. “Don’t move,” he whispers in my ear, and then in an instant, strips me naked and tosses my silk pajamas aside. Lust curls through me. “Lay down on the bed,” Dom continues. I quickly do as he says, my excitement growing. I lay back on the luxuriously soft covers, and a moment later, Dom takes his place at my side. Propping himself over me on one elbow, he slowly surveys my body. I can’t help but squirm under the heat of his gaze. I need his touch. I want him, inside me again. Finally, when I’m burning up with need, he leans over and begins a slow, thorough exploration of my body. Kissing my skin softly, tracing over the contours of my breasts and hips. I’m already gasping in soft, breathy moans, but Dom takes his time. He continues to kiss a slow path along my limbs, over my breasts, grazing his tongue over my nipples until they’re stiff in two aching peaks. By the time he spreads my legs and settles between them, I’m in a quiet frenzy. He licks up against my clit and I swear, I’m close to coming. I moan against his mouth, reaching for his head, to bring him closer, feel this sensation more deeply, but Dom is already pulling away. “Turn over.” He kneels back as I do, and places a pillow under my hips as I lie on my belly. I don’t question, I just sink into the delicious feeling as he kisses along my spine, giving my back the same slow worship as the front of my body. I shudder under his whispering touch—I never knew my back could be such an erogenous zone. Slowly, his mouth moves down over the curve of my ass, kissing lightly. He parts my legs again, and this time, his fingers stroke up between them, finding my wetness. Yes. More. I’m helpless against this man’s touch, but I’m exactly where I want to be. I try to roll back over to face him, but Dom presses me into the soft sheets with a firm hand. “Don’t move. Trust me.” I obey, and try to sink into the sensation coiling tight through my body. He teases me, caressing my pussy, parting my lips but never making contact with my clit. I’m needy and panting, and I spread my legs as far apart as I can. His fingers slide deep into me and I cry out with raw need. He pumps again, finding a deep, sweet friction I never knew existed. I can’t believe what I’m feeling. It’s powerful and consuming and I need more. Dominic keeps up the steady rhythm, driving me wild with every thick thrust of his fingers. I moan. Squirming, desperate, I push back against him, seeking relief from the intense pressure building inside me. His breath is hot on my bare back. “I’m going to fuck your pussy until you come, and then I want something else.” He withdraws his fingers and traces them up my ass, lightly between my cheeks. I shiver at the soft touch and his wicked meaning.

“Have you ever been taken here, Juliet?” I shake my head. I’ve never wanted it before, but now, I feel a tempting curiosity. Dominic works my body like he was made just for me. And I trust him. Whatever he wants, I know it will bring me pleasure. And him, too. “Soon,” Dom promises. He grips my hips, positioning me, open for him. I hover on the hard edge of release until he finally finds my entrance and thrusts his cock into me from behind. God, yes. It feels perfect, so fucking good, so right. This is exactly what I needed. He thrusts again, rubbing my inner walls, filling me up completely, pushing me over the edge. “Dom!” I cry out, desperate. Dominic keeps his angle just right, pumping me with raw pleasure. My orgasm builds from deep inside, a tidal wave preparing to crash over me. And then I feel it, his fingertip sliding between my ass cheeks, finding my sensitive knot of muscles. I tense, but Dom thrusts deep into my pussy again and I can’t help but surrender totally to the feeling of his cock buried deep inside me. His finger traces my asshole, adding a new dimension to the pleasure. The pressure increases, and then I feel him, pushing just inside. The sensation is incredible, and with the hard thrust of his cock, I can’t hold back anymore. My fingers dig into the mattress, grasping for something solid to cling onto, but the pleasure doesn’t stop. There’s nothing I can do except call out his name. I scream as he wriggles his finger and thrusts deeper, and the wicked tension releases. Lights burst behind my eyes, my pussy clenching hard around his cock as an intense orgasm slams into me. The waves still pounding through my body, Dominic withdraws and pulls my hips up, urging me onto my knees. Before I can register what’s happening, his cock is pressing against my ass. “Now,” he says. I gasp for air. Can I take it? I want to feel him, if it’s anything as good as his finger, but he’s so big. What if I can’t— “Relax, my dirty girl,” Dom murmurs. “Let me show you how good this can feel.” He slides a hand around my waist, bracing me on my hands and knees. Then his hand moves between my legs, stroking my clit. I’m still sensitive there, but the heat is sharp and immediate. I moan. The pressure inside me begins to build again, a deep hunger I don’t even recognize. Instinctively, I jut my ass back towards him, grinding against his fingers as they wreak havoc on my swollen peak. “God, you’re so fucking sexy,” Dom growls. He twines his hand in my hair, giving a light tug. “You’re going to take my cock, all the way, baby. You’re going to feel what it’s like to the very hilt.” His cock presses my asshole again, wet with my own juices. This time, I don’t tense. I’m in a haze of pleasure from his touch, my clit throbbing, my pussy aching for more. Slowly, he pushes inside me.

Holy shit! It’s a fullness like nothing else, a pain edged with deep pleasure. Dom pauses, just inside, waiting as my body relaxes and stretches to accommodate the thick intrusion. Then he inches forward, pushing deeper with a groan. I shudder. Fuck, the fullness and intensity are so big, I don’t think I can stand it. Even if I want to. Dom grips my hips with both his hands. “You touch your clit now,” he growls as he holds back. He’s tense, coiled, but taking it blissfully slow. I reach to where his fingers have pushed me to a frenzy, stroking just how I need it. “I can’t hold back,” I gasp. God, it feels so good. “Please, Dominic. Give me more. Please.” He thrusts into me again, deeper, saying my name over and over, chanting it like a prayer. Suddenly, he pushes into me, once, twice, hard. “Oh my God, yes,” I moan. Stars flash before my eyes as another orgasm flares, stronger than ever, my whole body exploding in bliss. I hold back a scream, groaning instead, pleasure radiating through me. We collapse onto the bed, and he gently pulls out of me. His arms come to hold me tight, anchoring me in place. I listen to him breathing and I’m wrapped in more contentment and peace than I’ve ever known. Suddenly I know what the feeling is that won’t go away. I’m falling in love with Dominic.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“I want you with me at the meeting this morning.”

Dominic is adjusting tie as he looks at me in the mirror. I stop in surprise. “The board of investors meeting you have in twenty minutes?” I ask. I’ve just stepped out of the shower, my hair is soaking wet and I’m pretty sure any clothes suitable for work are in a wrinkled mess in the bottom of my suitcase. “Yes.” “You know, a girl needs a little more notice than this,” I only half-joke, grabbing for the hair dryer. It’s alright for him, he just has to pull on a perfectlytailored suit and look like a million bucks, but it takes work to get me up to ‘important meeting’ standards. Dom doesn’t respond. He’s already checking his Blackberry, back in professional mode this morning. Part of me is disappointed. I imagined us snuggling together in bed, sharing a room service breakfast – and more. But of course, that’s stupid, I remind myself. He came here for business, not just a romantic getaway. I walk over and smooth down his shirt. “Are you sure, I can just wait here for you to be done. Or take a walk, do some exploring. You don’t need to babysit me,” I add, worried he thinks I’m going to get clingy. “Why do you even want me there?” He stops adjusting his cufflinks to stare at me as if he’s confused by the question. “Do I need a reason?” “No, but maybe I do.” Oops, that sounded a touch too combative. The look he’s giving me says he agrees. “I mean, what will the board think if you bring me? Am I supposed to play your secretary today?” I tease. He shrugs. “You’re a highly motivated intern who should take this opportunity with a smile.” My face falls at his suddenly cool, businesslike demeanor. I can’t stop myself, and I turn before he sees the disappointment that I feel. This is silly. We’re back into work mode today, that’s all— “Hey,” He takes my elbow and turns me to him. “I don’t just want you there. I need you.” I pause, but Dom draws me in for a kiss, and my reservations melt away.

“You get ready,” he says. “I’ll meet you downstairs.” Twenty-two frantic minutes later, I hurry across the lobby, breathing hard. I managed to dry my hair – barely – and pull it back into a braid. With a button down blouse, navy skirt and blazer, I think I can just about pass for professional, if my red cheeks and breathlessness don’t give me away. My phone buzzes with a text—a series of them, actually. I set up alerts for any news or blog results about the Rexford, and now a flurry of them arrive. My pulse races as I read them. They’re all positive, enthusiastic, and responding to news of the gala events with excitement. This is excellent! I see Dom waiting in a side hallway, talking to some businessmen in suits. I want to tell him the good news, but there’s no time. He greets me with a nod, then ushers me into a conference room. Inside, there’s a group of people already seated around the boardroom table. They look polished, and severe, and, well, European. Dominic takes a seat at the head of the table. There’s a space beside him, so I slide into the chair. Without any kind of formal introduction, they begin to talk. Loudly. In French. I sit there, totally baffled. Whatever they’re saying, it’s a heated conversation. Dominic’s expression hardens, but his voice is even and calm in that rational tone that he has. “Gentlemen,” he finally says in English. “I understand your concerns.” Immediately, they switch to English. One of the other men is wearing a bow-tie and white linen suit. He scowls across the table. “Then you are aware that Prescott’s team is acquiring a building, just a few blocks away.” Prescott wants to put a hotel here? “Yes, Bastian, I am. I fail to see the problem.” Bastian isn’t placated. “Our company has lost a lot of money from this rivalry. Your investors here in Europe are worried what will happen if the feud spills over to our shores.” A murmur of agreement goes up around the table. I feel bad for the position Dominic is in, but I understand. Nothing matters more to a board of directors than cash, and Blaine Prescott has been plucking it from the Rexford’s pockets left and right. Slimy weasel. “Your concerns are valid, and understand that I take them seriously.” Dominic looks at each person in the room. “But we’re already taking measures to rebuild and strengthen the Rexford brand, at home and abroad. Juliet, why don’t you explain a little about our new direction?” Me? I startle, surprised, but Dominic is waiting with an expectant look on his face. So is every other person in the room. “Umm…” I try to gather my thoughts. It was hard enough stepping up to lead a meeting back in Chicago, but here, I’m even more out of my depth. Deep breaths, Juliet. Just focus on the plans.

“Well, our strategy covers several departments. First of all, publicity and branding,” I begin, my heart pounding in my chest so loudly I’m sure the room can hear it. “We’re launching an impressive new awareness campaign for The Rexford Chicago, starting with a gala to celebrate the hundred-year anniversary of the hotel’s rebuilding. It’s a first step in fighting back against rival hotels and reminding them about the Rexford’s illustrious past.” I pull out my phone, and access the texts and alerts I got just before the meeting. “Our PR team notified me moments ago that we have confirmed national television coverage of the event. It will hit every major newspaper, television station, gossip magazine and internet news site in the nation. The world is going to see The Rexford once again as the most exclusive, luxurious destination for their trip: not just in Chicago, but internationally as well.” I stop, looking to Dominic for approval. He gives a nod, then picks up from my speech to finish. “We plan to do the same for The Rexford Paris. Nothing Prescott offers can compare to our legacy and what we’ve built, and we’re going to make sure everyone knows it.” The meeting wraps up quickly. The board members seem placated, at least for now. I wait by the exit, watching Dom smooth-talk the group, shaking hands before he joins me and walks us out to the front of the building. There’s a limo waiting, and I get inside after him. I’m exhilarated and hopeful that we made a difference. But he doesn’t say anything either way. It frustrates me, the way he acts like I can read his mind. Especially right now, when I need some reassurance. “Where are we heading now?” I ask. “Another meeting?” Dominic answers me with a kiss, hot and demanding. He pops a few buttons on my shirt and slides his hand in to cup my breast, feasting on my mouth until I’m dizzy. “No meeting,” he whispers against my mouth. “It’s a surprise.” He tweaks my nipple between his fingers, grazing my neck with soft kisses and driving me wild with need until the limo suddenly stops. I sit up and readjust my blouse before the driver can open the door. “So, does that kiss mean you think it went well in there?” He watches me re-button my blouse. “You were excellent, Juliet. It did go well. You have a gift for keeping your cool in high-stress situations, and I like knowing you’re on my team.” I flush with pride, but then remember those incriminating photos from the Drake that have yet to surface. One look at those pictures and Dom might think twice about whose team I’m on. I push the thought away and try to smile as the door opens and the driver helps me out of the car. Outside, I look around. We’re on a narrow street filled with old, expensivelooking stores. They have gleaming windows and discreet signs, spelling out familiar designer names in gold script. Hermes, Gucci, Prada.

“What are we doing?” I ask, confused. He gives me a smile. “Shopping. You deserve a reward for your performance earlier. Anything you want, ma belle.” I don’t have a chance to ask if he means my performance in the boardroom – or the bedroom. Before I can object, Dominic leads me into the first boutique. A welldressed woman meets us and immediately showers me in a flurry of French. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, embarrassed. “I don’t—” “But of course.” She switches to English. “Come this way.” She leads me to a luxurious dressing room. The light blue walls are lined with displays of gorgeous formal gowns. Dominic takes a seat on a plush settee and folds his hands. He’s enjoying this, and I’m completely overwhelmed. She begins flipping through stunning gowns, chattering mostly to herself. Where would I ever wear one of these? The gala, perhaps. If I were going. But am I? This feels like high school prom all over again. I haven’t been invited, and I won’t just assume that I am. I’m trying very hard not to assume anything about, well, anything, when it comes to Dominic. She holds dresses up, but I try to discourage her. I can already tell, these cost more than my annual salary. Silk, satins, incredible velvet with a swooping neckline and a hem that splits up the thigh for days… I look at Dominic. He’s nodding. “Are you sure?” I check. “Anything you want,” he says, like an order. Well, I guess I don’t have a choice. I try on several gowns, modeling each for Dominic. The look on his face excites and humbles me. The way he’s staring at me with heat in his eyes, appreciating me…making me feel beautiful. Nothing works for a self-esteem boost than the hungry gaze of a handsome lover. After the gowns, the assistant brings out dresses, shoes, bags. It’s a dizzying array of glamor, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, and I can’t help but be swept up. I don’t say a word, but Dominic nods in approval over certain outfits, and murmurs to the staff who rush to pack things up in tissue paper and elegant boxes. Soon, we’re emerging from the store with a whole mountain of bags. I’m riding high by the time we get into the limo. “I don’t know what to say, Dominic. Thank you.” “Actually, you didn’t get nearly enough.” He grins. “When I said anything, I expected you to go a little crazy.” “This isn’t crazy?” I look around at the bags and laugh. “Any more, and we wouldn’t be able to fit them on the plane!” “One of the perks of a private jet,” Dominic agrees. “No excess baggage fees.” Dominic pulls a small gold box from his inside pocket. “To a job well done.” My pulse races as I take the box from him and untie the delicate ribbon. I lift the top, but I pause before opening it completely. Everything he’s done for me, with

me, has already been life-changing. I kiss him lightly on the lips. “Thank you, Dom. I love it.” He looks confused. “You haven’t even opened it yet.” “Exactly.” I finally lift the box and remove the paper. “Oh my God!” My mouth falls open. Inside, a diamond bracelet twinkles at me, set with tiny square-cut emeralds. The design has a delicate, antique quality to it, and my thoughts flicker again to the costume party at the Rexford. Dom lifts it out and clasps it around my wrist. “What do you think?” I’m surprised to see a flicker of uncertainty on his face, as if he’s not sure I’ll like it. “It’s perfect,” I whisper, overcome. “I love it.” I lean over and wrap my arms around him, resting my head against his chest. He holds me tenderly, and my heart feels so full it could burst. WE DRIVE straight to the airport. Our things were packed up from the hotel, and are already loaded onto the jet when we arrive. I wish we could stay in Paris longer, but he’s needed back in Chicago – and so am I. The big nineteen twenties themed party is at the Rexford tomorrow night, and I have a ton of coordinating to do in order to make sure it goes off without a hitch. I fall asleep on the flight as soon as we take off, but wake sometime later. Dom is dozing in the seat beside me, leaning to drape an arm around my shoulders. I move a strand of hair away from his eyes and let my touch linger, enjoying this moment of him so vulnerable and defenseless. He’s a good man. Kind when he thinks no one is looking, hardworking. Dedicated to his staff and his family legacy. It’s not his money or his status that have taken ahold of my heart like this…hell, it’s not even the amazing sex. It’s him. Only him. Smiling, I lay back down and snuggle into him, drifting back to sleep. It only feels like minutes before the flight attendant wakes us and we land in Chicago. We’re both still sleepy for the limo ride into the city, though he seems to recover better than I do. I guess he has more experience jet-setting around the world. “Do you mind if we make a quick stop at the hotel before I drop you off at home?” Dominic asks. “I need to check on some things as soon as possible.” “Sure,” I yawn. “Whatever you need.” The limo pulls in to The Rexford, and Dominic cups my face. “I hope you enjoyed yourself,” he murmurs with a kiss. “I really did.” His lips travel to my ear. “We’ll have to repeat Paris sex very, very soon.” “God, I hope so.” We keep a slight distance between us as we walk into the hotel. I have to

remember, we’re not on vacation anymore. I’m back to being the intern now, but I don’t mind. I have the sweetest memories of being his lover to hang onto. “I’ll wait down here,” I tell him. From where I’m standing, the plush couches in the lobby look great to my tired eyes. “Take as long as you need.” Dominic begins to say something, but then he looks past me. The color drains from his face. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. "What is it?" I ask. But I don’t need to wonder for long. A stunning blonde saunters across the lobby, decked out in a white linen dress and massive sunglasses. She pauses in front of us, and slowly looks over the dark lenses at me. “Well, isn’t this interesting.” I look at Dom, confused. The woman lets out a melodious laugh. “Oh, poor darling, he hasn’t told you anything. Typical Dom, always likes to keep the upper hand.” She holds out a hand to me, and I can’t help noticing that the diamond bracelet glittering on her wrist looks awfully familiar. “I’m Lillian. Dominic’s ex-wife.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

E x-wife? What the hell!

I’m still reeling from her bombshell when Dominic steps forward. “Emphasis on the ex,” he growls. “Always one for the details.” Lillian keeps her sunny smile. Dom isn’t so friendly. “What do you want, Lillian?” He glares at her. Lillian flips her hair, but her gaze doesn’t move from my face. “You know, you look very familiar…” I recover. “Umm, I work here. Maybe you’ve seen me on the front desk?” She considers that, then shakes her head. “No, that’s not it.” Dominic sighs impatiently. “Did you need something?” Lillian tuts at him. “I know you’re busy running the universe, but we have some final details to work out for the divorce.” “Everything is settled. It’s over.” “I thought so, too. But you know how lawyers are, Dominic. Always hiding something until the last minute.” Lillian shrugs, as if to say it’s out of her hands. He scowls. “Fine.” The elevator arrives, and Lillian steps inside, holding the doors. “Are you coming?” she asks him lightly. He takes a step towards her and my heart sinks. Dominic finally looks at me. “I won’t be long.” “No,” I say, my emotions finally firing to life. “Take as long as you need. I’m not waiting.” “Juliet—” he starts, but I just glare and turn on my heel. I need to get away from him while I still have some composure, before I collapse in tears from the betrayal of it all. The distance to the exit feels like the longest walk of my life. But he doesn’t follow. I’m on my own. I GO to the basement to collect my car, somehow holding back my tears, my hurt and

my rage until I get home to the apartment. Callie flings the door open before I’ve even turned the key. I look at her and a tear rolls down my face. “Oh honey.” She gathers me into her arms and pulls me inside. “What did he do?” “It’s more like what he didn’t do. Like tell me he used to be married.” Callie pats my back and sighs. “That asshole!” I wipe my eyes and flop down onto the couch. Emily comes out with a plate of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. She looks upset. “I was making these to welcome you home.” “Bring ‘em here,” I demand. “I need to eat my feelings.” The three of us jam onto the couch with the cookies and I tell them everything. “So, he’s divorced, or not?” Callie asks. I shrug. “I don’t know. She made it sound like maybe it wasn’t final.” “So it’s recent, too.” Emily looks grim. “I don’t know what hurts more.” I mope, “That he was possibly still married, or that he didn’t think enough about us to tell me about it. I mean, isn’t that something you’d mention sometime? Especially on a ten hour flight to Paris! It’s not as if he didn’t have an opportunity.” Emily puts a hand on my shoulder. “You care about him, don’t you?” I shrug, but I know they see right through me. “A little. A lot.” Callie gives me a look. “OK, I’m completely head over heels for him,” I finally admit. “I told myself to keep it professional. But I just…I couldn’t help but be swept up in it all. He’s not like any other man I’ve ever met. As cliché as that sounds.” “But now what?” Emily asks. “I don’t even know.” I think for a minute. I can’t go back to not caring about him. It’s not that easy. I can’t block him completely out since I’m still his intern. So where does that leave me? The doorbell rings and we all look at each other. Emily gets up. “You better not have ordered pizza, Callie. I’ve got lasagna in the oven!” She opens the door wide. A man stands there with a long white box tied in a red ribbon. “Juliet Evans?” I brush crumbs off my shirt and get to my feet. “That’s me.” He hands me the box. Callie and Em peek over my shoulder. There’s a card on the top, and I open it right there in the doorway. “What’s it say?” Emily asks. I’m sorry. It’s written in Dominic’s flowing cursive. It’s only two little words, but I read them again and feel a surge of regret. Does he mean it, or is this another lavish gesture that won’t mean anything in the end? “Oh, he’s smooth. See what’s in the box!” Callie impatiently pulls it open.

It’s one of the dresses from the boutique in Paris. Laying on top is a diamond necklace that matches my bracelet. Callie snorts. “Girl, you must be really good in bed.” I know I should laugh off the attempt to buy my favor, but my emotions are a mess. Then there’s the sound of footsteps on the stairs. The delivery guy moves aside, and then Dominic is in front of me, filling the doorframe. My heart flutters in my chest. “That’s our cue,” Emily says, dragging Callie into the back room. The delivery guy leaves. We’re alone. I stare at Dominic, still hurt. “You’re supposed to be at the party.” “I need to be right here.” A muscle jumps in the side of his jaw. “We have to talk.” “So talk.” I take a breath to calm my nerves. I can’t believe just a few hours ago I was on cloud nine, and now I don’t even know how to feel. I’m hurt, betrayed. But his pull on me is still going strong. Dom looks tense. “What do you need to know?” Everything. I start with, “How long have you been divorced?” I ask, sounding calmer than I feel. He doesn’t look at me. “A month or so.” I think back. We met roughly a month ago…so, was he still married when I first slept with him? I feel sick. “That’s about the time we met.” “So?” “What do you mean, so?” I echo. “Were you still with her when I met you?” I’ve been trying not to think that I was just an intern to him, just a fuck. It’s changed now, I know, but I still can’t shake that feeling. Dom looks reluctant. “I don’t have time for jealousy, Juliet. Lillian and I were over a long time ago. She’s my past. And I need to move forward.” “But in all the time we’ve spent together, you never once thought to bring her up?” Dom is blank. “Why would I?” Because that’s what people in relationships do! I want to scream it at him, but I don’t. He never promised a relationship. He never promised anything. My eyes sting and I know my composure is going to slip. Then Dom softens. I see real regret in his eyes as he reaches to take my hand. “Juliet, Lillian was a hard time in my life. Everything about our marriage was… difficult. I wanted to put it behind me, start over. That’s why I didn’t tell you. You were a chance for a fresh start. To wipe the slate clean.” His words strike through me, tugging at my heart. We both take a step at the same time, but he touches me first. I lean into the warmth of him, letting it chase away the pain and the doubt. “I’d like to start over with you.” Dom says, cradling me to him. “Be my date to

the gala tomorrow night.” “You mean not as your intern?” “My date, who also happens to be a brilliant intern.” He smiles. He loops a hand around my neck and leans down to kiss me. It’s sweet and heated and leaves me breathless. I pull back to catch my breath, realizing that I’ve crumpled the card in my hand. I show it to him as he slowly sets me down. “You know, Rexford, this is the first time you’ve actually apologized to me.” “Hopefully, I won’t have to do much more of that.” His smile is humble and apologetic and the lightness inside me feels like it has no end. Apparently Dominic and I didn’t need Paris to be happy, just the dimly lit hallway in my crappy building. “So, will you be my date?” How could I refuse? “Of course I will.” I can’t wait to see how good starting over is going to be.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The gala is the social event of the year – just the way we planned it. People are

lined up outside, press is everywhere. As Dominic and I get out of the limo in front of The Rexford, I hear the click, click, click of cameras, see the flash in the corner of my eye. I’m nervous, but I focus on him as we enter and head for the ballroom. He looks amazing in a fitted tux, with a green pocket square that matches my dress. It’s one slip of fabric, but leaves no mistake that he and I are together. For the first time, I’m not afraid to display what’s between us. He doesn’t seem worried about it, either, as he keeps me intimately close to his side. The grand lobby is flooded with Chicago’s society, mingling and perusing displays set up along the walls. Dominic heads to the middle of the room, but I pull back as something catches my eye. “Look at this.” A series of blown up canvases are artfully lined up on the wall, each displaying handwritten book entries from famous guests. I sourced them all after hours spent combing the old guest books Dominic loaned me. The Rexford is my second favorite palace. -Grace Kelly. That one is my favorite, followed by Al Capone’s scribbled signature taking up an entire page. “The event is a hit!” Sheila from the PR company greets me with a socialite hug and an air kiss on each cheek. “These guest book entries and the blueprints from the original hotel were incredible ideas, Juliet.” I’m elated and feel like I’m floating. “I can’t take all the credit. The team did great work.” “We did. I hope we get to work together again soon.” She raises her champagne glass in a toast and moves away to speak with someone else. I know I should be humble, and I am. But I’ve never had such a sense of accomplishment before and yeah, I did do a great job. I’m proud of me. When I see the appreciative way Dominic is looking at me, I know he’s proud of me, too. He puts a hand on my lower back and guides me to a quiet alcove. “Sheila is

right. You did a great job. Your ideas are fresh and you’ve shown me that you’re not afraid to work hard.” I flush under the compliment. “Thank you.” “There’s an opening in the corporate office,” he continues. “You’re a perfect fit.” I blink because I’m sure I heard him wrong. Just to be sure, I eye my champagne glass. Nope, still full, so I can’t blame it on a buzz. “Dominic, are you offering me a job?” “Yes.” I make a disbelieving sound and hold my glass tighter to keep from dropping it. I’m two seconds away from throwing my arms around him, or busting out The Carlton happy dance. This is incredible! “I don’t know what to say.” I stammer. He doesn’t move toward me or touch me in any way, and I realize he’s giving me space to make my choice. It’s not much of a choice at all. Everything I’ve dreamed about since starting college is coming true. A job at The Rexford is my ultimate goal, and he’s giving it to me weeks before my internship is even over. Sure, I nailed ideas for the gala, but is that really enough to earn a coveted position here? Or is there another reason? I look down, not sure how to ask. “Are you doing this because of us?” He gives me a look. “I would never risk the company over personal feelings, Juliet. You’ve earned this.” “Okay,” I say, finally starting to believe him. “Yes. Yes, I accept!” I step into him, needing the searing heat of his kiss. “There you are, big brother,” Xander interrupts us. He’s dressed in a flashy navy pinstripe suit, his white shirt open over his tanned skin. “Am I interrupting?” “Seriously?” Dom growls. “What do you think?” I know the brothers have a complex relationship, but I can’t help but feel sorry for the younger Rexford. He seems lost, disconnected, yet he has a spark of interest that might flame if Dominic would give it a chance. If Xander is hurt by Dom’s attitude, he doesn’t show it. “I just wanted you to know, Blaine Prescott is here.” He nods to the ballroom, where Prescott is sauntering over to greet us. “I gotta hand it to you, Rexford. You put on a good show.” Blaine’s words are a little slurred. He puts an arm around Dominic’s shoulders and smiles big for the photographer lurking nearby. Dom looks icy. “I might take that a compliment if you weren’t drunk.” “You’re right. It is the alcohol talking.” Blaine’s smile gets bigger as another photographer joins in. Dominic’s carefully schooled expression is at least believable, not to mention that he looks model-perfect. “This is a lovely attempt, but you have to realize that nothing can save you now,” Blaine continues. “This place is a dead man walking.” “Can you gentlemen shake hands, please?” Another photographer has joined in. Jesus, it’s like a school of sharks over here.

“No,” Dominic says firmly. “We’re done. Thank you, gentlemen.” He breaks away from Blaine, who drains his glass and looks around, presumably for a waiter. He’s a bit unsteady. “Actually,” Dominic calls out to one of the photographers, “you may want to follow Mr. Prescott this evening. You never know when he’ll give you that perfect, front-page ready shot.” The orchestra begins to play as servers in crisp white coats begin weaving through the room to escort people to their seats. Ah, dinner time. Thank God, because I’m starving. People mill around us to find their tables. It’s a flurry of gorgeous gowns and handsomely dressed men, but I barely see any of them. Dominic’s profile is to me and he’s striking, tall and in command. He really does take my breath away. I take his arm, and when he looks at me, I feel a surge of tenderness and warmth like never before. I was falling for him in Paris, but this is stronger, more complete. It’s not falling anymore; I’m all the way there. I’m completely. Undeniably. In love with Dominic Andrew Freaking Rexford. “I’m liking this look on your face.” Dominic finally cracks a smile. “Do we need to go somewhere private?” Yes! I think he’s teasing, but the heat in his eyes sways me toward not teasing. Suddenly, he scowls and looks over my head. “What the fuck is she doing here?” I glance behind me to see Lillian coming toward us, stunning in floor-length white silk. There’s a man behind her wearing a business suit and a scowl, briefcase tucked under one arm. Lillian stops in front of Dominic. “You always did dress up nice.” She touches the lapel on his tux and his eyes turn dark. “We need to talk, Dom. Alone.” Nerves start to creep through my body. The room is beginning to hush and I’m aware that people are looking at us. I don’t hear the click of cameras, but I’m sure photos are being taken. Her very presence is threatening to overshadow the event. Who wants elegance when they can have gossip? “Whatever it is, you can say it right here and then go,” Dominic almost growls. “You really want to do this here?” she retorts. “Air your dirty laundry in front of everyone?” Dom clearly thinks better of it. He looks to me. “Go ahead and start dinner without me. I’ll be right back.” “No,” Lillian says, with a strangely satisfied smile. “She should come, too.” What’s going on? I follow them out of the ballroom, and down a hallway to a side room. Tension edges every line of Dom’s body, but he doesn’t even look at me. "Well?" he demands, the minute Lillian's lawyer closes the door. "What the hell is it that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” Lillian drops her friendly smile. “You violated the pre-nup. Our settlement is

off.” “What the fuck do you mean?” Dominic looks furious. “That’s bullshit, and you know it!” Lillian sighs. “Temper, Dominic. Really. We can be civil about this, at least.” She nods to her lawyer. He opens his briefcase and takes out a small laptop and a manila folder. “You may recall we had an infidelity clause in the contract,” Lillian continues. “If you cheated on me, the pre-nup would be void. Remember?” Dom glares. “As much as I grew to dislike you, Lillian, I never once cheated on you.” “I beg to disagree. And I think a judge will be on my side.” She opens the folder and dumps it upside down. A stack of black and white pictures flutter onto the table. I catch a glimpse of a hotel bar. A woman, leaning in close to Dominic. Me. In an instant, I know what’s going on, why I’m here in the middle of it all. It’s because of me. The night we met. The job to flirt with him and get incriminating photos. It’s all been leading to this! The honeytrap…the reason the photographer was following him that night. He was still married. I grab the edge of the table to keep myself upright as Dom reaches for the photos and slowly spreads them across the table. My face is everywhere. Dominic and I at the whiskey bar. Him kissing me, leaning in close. My flirty smile. “How did you get these?” Dom’s voice is tight, pained. “Someone was in the right place at the right time,” Lillian shrugs. “Conveniently.” “This was a fucking set up?” Dom growls, looking at me in disbelief. “You set this up?” I can’t answer. I’m frozen in place, hugging my arms around myself. Tears sting my eyes. I want to deny it, but I can’t. And it’s not just that I betrayed Dominic. He betrayed me, too. I didn’t realize when we met that he was a married man. He’d told me no one was waiting at home for him! He’d lied to me. And he’d kissed me. And that wasn’t all we’d done that night. My stomach clenches at the memory. “It’s safe to assume this didn’t just end in the bar,” Lillian smirks. “I’m right, aren’t I?” she asks me. “You slept with him, before our divorce was final. Bye bye, pre-nup. Hello, division of assets.” “Get out.” Dominic points to the door. Lillian’s still smiling, gloating at her ill-won victory. “We still have to discuss —” “I said, GET OUT!” His voice roars with anger. Lillian backs off. “We’ll be in touch,” she says, gesturing for her lawyer to follow her out. The

door slams behind them. We’re alone. Oh God. I force myself to look at him, but the furious betrayal on his face is worse than I ever imagined. “Were you sent to set me up?” he demands. “That night at the Drake, is that why you were there?” I swallow, then whisper my guilty confession. “Yes.” “Fuck!” Dom slams his fist into the wall, cracking the plasterboard. Blood runs from the cut on his knuckles, and I want to go to him, comfort him, but he’s shaking with rage. I’m frantic with the need to tell him everything, to make him understand that what started as a trap turned into something more. I’m even willing to forgive his trespasses against me, because I understand everything so much better now—his unhappiness, his loneliness, his secrets. But I need an apology, too. We have to talk this over. “Dominic, please, I can explain. It’s not like that.” “You mean, I didn’t just get fooled by a whore?” The word is a slap in the face, and I’m rendered speechless. He turns and storms out of the room. I’m frozen for another moment, but then I rush after him. “Wait!” I grab his arm, pulling him back to me. “For what?” he demands. “So you can tell me more lies? Fuck, after everything that’s happened…I trusted you!” “I’m sorry,” I say, keeping my voice even. “I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. Just like you couldn’t tell me that—” “Do you know what you just cost me?” he interrupts. He rakes a hand through his hair. “To think I fucking cared about you.” A loud hum goes through my head and gets louder as all the anguish in his expression turns cold and ruthless. He looks at me like I’m nothing. “Get out.” I can’t believe this is happening. It can’t be over, not when I love him like this. “Dominic—” I start. “Just stop. It’s over, Juliet.” He turns away from me. “We’re done.” “But—” “Go. Get the fuck out of my hotel and don’t come back.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I t’s been two days since Dominic discovered the secret I’ve been hiding from him:

that the first night we met, I was hired to get compromising photos of him. Two days since he threw me out of the Rexford hotel and swore he never wanted to see me again. Two days of me wallowing in a heartbroken mess around my apartment until my roommates must be sick of my forlorn crying. “We’re going to need a Sherpa to come navigate this mountain of Kleenex.” Emily brushes wads of tissue off my bed before sitting next to me. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and take the steaming mug she offers. I think I smile. I don’t know. My face is so tight from dried tears, I feel like I’ve had botched plastic surgery. “What’s in the mug?” I take a sniff. “Smells good.” “One of my secret tea blends.” “Made with unicorn tears and rainbows?” “Of course. And also honey and green tea to soothe your throat.” Her soft voice brings fresh tears to my eyes. I don’t deserve her kindness. At least, that’s how the sick, twisted sensation in my gut makes me feel. Because of me, Dominic may lose control of the hotel. I deserve to be miserable. Plus, I miss him. A hell of a lot. A plopping noise makes me look down, and sure enough, I’m crying in my tea. “Hey,” Emily takes the mug and runs a hand down my hair. “I know it hurts, Jules.” “Understatement.” I lean against her shoulder. “It feels like he ripped out my heart and stomped all over it then left it bleeding in the gutter with all the Rexford’s dirty garbage.” I see him every time I close my eyes—the blend of shock and anger on Dominic’s face as his ex-wife, Lillian, revealed everything. The way he looked at me when I admitted I helped set him up. How he smirked when I tried to confess my feelings for him. In that moment, I lost everything. My internship, my career, and the man I love. It couldn’t get any worse. “He won’t call me back,” I admit. “I’ve left messages.” It dawns on me that I

haven’t checked my phone in a half hour. I scramble to get my cell, but Emily stops me. “He hasn’t called, Juliet.” “How do you know?” She just shakes her head, and I crumble a little more. “He won’t call, will he?” She tries to look supportive, but I can tell, she doesn’t believe me. And if my ‘bright side only, glass half full’ friend can’t find it in her heart to lie, there’s really no hope for me. My heart cracks again. Dominic Rexford has washed his hands of me. How can I blame him? I helped his ex-wife strip him of control over his own empire. Thanks to me, he’s lost everything that he held most dear. I just wish I’d known. The first night we met, it was just a job: my cousin, Callie, was sick, so I filled in for her acting as a honeytrap for her private investigator boss. I was supposed to flirt with the target, let them get photos of him kissing me, and make a quick exit. I didn’t expect Dom to be so sexy, so magnetic – all my rules went out of the window when I followed him upstairs. It was just one night, I told myself. Nobody would ever know. I didn’t realize that my incredible one night stand with him was going to have consequences like this. I didn’t expect my love would ruin him. Pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes, I force down another wave of tears. I’ve never felt this way before, and I don’t know what to do. I need to do something, to fix it any way that I can. But, how? An apology won’t mean a thing compared to his lost empire. I don’t think Hallmark makes a card for this kind of thing. I lean over the side of my bed and grapple for the neck of a wine bottle. It’s empty—so is the next one I reach for, and the one after that. I don’t have to check the cookie bags or the pizza box on my floor. I know they’re empty, too. Emily stands and starts to collect the trash. “You’ve gone on one hell of a broken-heart bender.” “It’s not over yet.” She bypasses the mountain of snot rags to grab my garbage can. “Believe it or not, you’ll get through this, Jules. Things like this just make you stronger.” “How would you know?” It flies out of my mouth before I can take it back. Emily pauses a moment, then keeps cleaning. “I’m sorry,” I say quickly.” She doesn’t talk much about her romantic history, but I do know that some guy did a number on her a few years back, bad enough that she won’t even mention his name. “It’s OK,” Emily says with a supportive smile. “I know that it gets better. Eventually.” My bedroom door flies open, and Callie bursts in. “Ugh, you’re still wallowing? Come on, you’ll be a public health hazard if you don’t get out of those sweatpants.” “So what?” I slump back down. “I don’t have anywhere to be, remember? I got fired.”

Callie rolls her eyes. “Dominic is a purebred asshole, and you don’t need him, Juliet. Fuck him. And not in the fun way.” She disappears and comes back with not one bottle of cheap wine, but two. “You’re welcome.” “You’re not helping.” Emily looks slightly disgusted. “She needs to get up and take a shower.” “But failing that, she needs to get drunk until she’s ready to not be drunk anymore. It’s a rule of break-ups. Didn’t you read the girl code handbook, Em?” I’m not about to argue with Callie’s wonderful logic. I open a box, pour some into a glass, and take a sip before they stop nitpicking each other and look at me. “That’a girl.” Callie nods approvingly. I try to drink more, but it tastes bitter in my mouth. I remember the sweetness of the wine Dominic and I drank while he fed me oysters in Paris. And the wild sex in the alley after that? What I wouldn’t give to turn back the clock and relive it again. Just to have him next to me, to hear his voice. I’m a hundred shades of pathetic. “That sappy look on your face has to stop.” Callie opens a bag of chips and hands them to me. I know it needs to stop. But it’s too soon. Truthfully, I’m still reeling—and starving. A take-out container plops onto my lap. Pad Thai. “I could seriously kiss you right now,” I say, and crack the top, reveling in the waft of peanut sauce and noodles. “Please don’t.” I wolf down the Thai. This, I can do: eat, drink, repeat, until my food is gone. Now if calories would just take the pain away, I’d be all set. That, and if Dom would just talk to me. He still might not forgive me after I explain, but I need to clear the air about everything. Thinking his name brings the sadness back and boom, just like that, I’m crying again. “I can’t do this!” I gulp. “I need to talk to him.” “He’s not ready, Juliet. You have to give him some time.” There’s a noise from the living room. Emily turns. “What was that? Did someone knock?” My brain is slow to register what she said, but then it does. And wham, my pulse picks up. We listen, and sure enough, there’s a fast, light rap on the front door. “Oh my God!” I flip the covers off. “What if it’s Dom?” I leap out of bed, then freeze. The sight of myself in the mirror is a slap of reality. Bedhead hair, pallid skin, and these sweatpants. “I can’t see him like this!” “Quick,” Emily pulls things out of my dresser before darting into the living room, yelling, “Just a minute!” “Help me!” I beg Callie. “Sweetie, Cover Girl could come at you with a paint gun and it wouldn’t help.” She drags me into my bathroom and turns into the pit crew queen of hang-over desperation. In seconds, my face is washed, my hair is brushed, and she’s doused

me with spray-on deodorant. Clean yoga pants and a tank top and I’m as ready as I can be. I smooth my hands down my palms and eye the front door. With a big breath, I throw it open… and stop. It’s not Dom, not even close. “Hello Juliet.” It’s Dom’s ex-wife, Lillian.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

W hat the hell?

“What are you doing here?” I ask, gripping the doorframe for support. She looks perfect; of course she does. Lillian is rocking a pair of black capris and a flowing turquoise top that drapes off one petite shoulder. Her hair is perfectly pony-tailed, her make-up flawless, and me? I’m one step away from homeless. “I thought it was time you and I had a little chat.” Without missing a beat, she sashays past me and into the apartment. I follow, thrown. “If you’re here to gloat…” I stop as I realize what a mess the apartment is, my own wallowing debris taking over the couch and floor. Lillian’s lip curls as she takes it in. “What a… charming home you have.” There’s a snort from my bedroom door. “Seriously?” Callie glares. She folds her arms, and I half expect her to be wielding the pocket knife she keeps under her bed. Emily is beside her with the coldest look I’ve ever seen on her innocent little face. Probably the wine, but I feel a little mushy. My girls have my back and I love them for it. Lillian ignores them and gives me a look. “Can we speak alone?” She’s here to bring more humiliation and pain. What else would the ex-wife of my former lover want? “I don’t think so.” With a sweep of my arm, I gesture she should leave. But she just smiles bigger, and man, I hate her. “Very well.” She pauses. “I wanted to apologize.” That gets me. “What for? Ruining my entire life?” Lillian doesn’t flinch. “I didn’t know you really cared about Dom. When I saw those photos, and realized you were still with him, I thought perhaps you were playing your own game. Clearly, I was mistaken.” Is this sympathy in her tone? It catches me off guard. She’s the enemy. She caused this mess. Why in the world would she be feeling sorry for me? I glance at Callie and Emily and ask them for a few minutes with my eyes. They retreat into my bedroom, leaving me alone with the woman who brought my whole world crashing down. “There’s more going on between you and Dom than I thought,” she continues.

“Past tense. He hates me. He won’t even speak to me.” She has the grace to look a little sheepish—which surprises me again. She looks me over, her expression going back to friendly neutral. “So, what are you going to do now?” I’m not sure I understand her question. My mind goes blank. “Um… finish this bender and then… I don’t know, brush myself off and look for a job?” It comes out sarcastically. I’ve just lost everything I cared about. What does she think I’m going to do? “What if I said you didn’t need to look far?” I frown. “What?” “Pay attention, Juliet.” She gives a little laugh. “I’m offering you a job. I want you to come work for me at the Rexford.” I blink, but I can’t respond. She’s playing with me. “Look, I now have a huge stake in the Rexford,” Lillian explains. “And with Xander supporting me with his shares, we have the majority to make a real difference. I need someone who knows the insides of the company, who can give me the advice I need. My personal liason, assistant, advisor – call it what you want. I’m offering you three times your normal salary, and you’d answer only to me.” My brain finally catches up. She and Dom’s brother are taking control. She wants me to help her? “I’m just an intern!” I protest. “Say what you will about my ex-husband, but he has excellent instincts when it comes to finding good people.” She shrugs. “Dominic trusts you.” Pain shoots through my heart. “Trusted, Lillian.” “He valued your judgment. Obviously, that makes you someone to watch. An up-and-comer. Besides, you know how Dom works. I need someone who can stand up to him and fight in my corner.” Fight Dom? Suddenly, it becomes clear. “I won’t be your pawn! I didn’t know what I was getting into with the set-up, and I won’t do it again.” “This isn’t a set-up. I’m laying my cards on the table.” I shake my head. “He won’t even let me on the property. He hates me.” “And you’re going to let that stop you?” Lillian arches a perfect eyebrow. I don’t know what to say. “I misjudged you,” she continues. “You’ve worked hard for your career. I didn’t think you’d let him walk over you like this.” She opens her purse and takes out a business card. She looks around for a clean surface, then gingerly places it on my purse. “What do you really want, Juliet? A career, or a broken heart that’s going to get you nowhere? Dominic can’t crush you if you don’t let him.” She walks out, closing the door behind her with a click. I catch my breath, reeling. Going back to work at the Rexford… It’s a tempting thought, but I stop it in its tracks. I can’t. If I work for Lillian, Dom will never forgive me. He values loyalty above all else. Lillian says she’s being straight with me, but how do I know this isn’t part of some devious plan to drive Dom and me

even further apart? If only he would talk to me, let me explain that I was never part of her agenda. I need to see him. I grab my keys and phone, and rush out the door before I can talk myself out of it. I’ve downed half a box of wine in the last few hours at least, but I manage to flag down a cab a couple of blocks away. Soon, we’re speeding towards downtown. This is insane, but I can’t stop now! My heart races as we pull up to the side of the Rexford. Dominic is inside—so close, but so much separates us. I have the crazy thought of telling him what Lillian said, of us laughing over the absurdity of it like we would if everything was fine. I get out and try to think this through. I don’t want to make a scene at the front entrance. Besides, my yoga pants and flip flops don’t really scream ‘I belong’. I approach the side door, the one I used as an intern, and instinctively reach for the keycard that I no longer have. I recognize the door man and put on a smile. “Ms. Evans,” he greets, his face giving nothing away. Maybe I can play this off. Each second makes my desperation to see Dom grow. I’m so coiled with it that it feels like something is about to snap inside of me. “Hey, Rup. Mind letting me in? I don’t have my—“ “Juliet,” he says apologetically. And I know. I know he’s going to deny me. “I can’t let you in. I’m sorry.” “Five minutes.” God, it’s desperate, but I can’t help it. He shakes his head and looks away, dismissing me. What do I do now? I’m about to try and sneak in the front, when I hear Ray’s voice behind me, talking to someone on their way out. “Have a good afternoon, Mr. Rexford.” I whirl back around. It’s Dom. My knees get weak and I want to crumble from relief. He’s looking at his cell phone as he walks, his long legs clad in black pants, a pale blue button down open at the top, suitcoat over his arm. His hair is perfectly tousled as usual and I want to dig my fingers into it. He heads for the sidewalk, where his car is waiting. My chest squeezes but I find the strength to move toward him. He looks up as I approach. Our eyes meet and warmth floods me. Surprise crosses his beautiful face, and I think, for just a moment, that he’s happy to see me. “Dominic.” His face twists. “Stalking me now?” “I need to talk to you. Please, just a few minutes.” “I don’t make time for whores.” I stumble back like I’ve been hit. He sounds furious. “Dom, please--” He seems to war with himself for a second, but then his tone comes out harsh. “You took away the only thing that mattered to me, Juliet. The hotel.” Deep inside, I feared this was going to happen. My dream that he’d listen, that he’d forgive me, crumbles. But I have to know.

“Didn’t I matter?” I ask. His face is a mask. Unreadable. “What do you think?” Slipping into the car, he slams the door. The car drives away and I’m left alone on the sidewalk with his words ringing in my ears. Whore. I know he’s angry, and thinks I set him up, but there’s no excuse for speaking to me like that. I didn’t know the truth when I got into the situation, and he wanted it just as much as I did. But that was the beginning, when it was simple. All sex. Then things got deeper – and way more complicated. I take a deep breath, and slowly walk away, already thinking about what the hell I can do to make this right. I can’t wallow. I can’t hang on and hope. He wants me to disappear like a bad mistake, but I’m not letting him call the shots anymore – or destroy my career before it’s even begun. I have to figure out a new plan. Fumbling with my cell phone, I pull her card from my purse and dial. “Lillian? When do I start?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I ’m going to throw up on my two hundred dollar power suit.

Standing outside the Rexford, I clutch my shiny briefcase. I’ve been chewing Mentos until my teeth hurt in attempt to stay calm. Executive Liaison to Lillian Rexford? (Yeah, she kept her married name.) In crisp, professional clothes, with subtle highlights in my salon-fresh hair, I hope I like I belong. I had just the weekend to whip myself into shape for this new gig, and on the outside, I did. On the inside, I still need a little work. I left this place in a cloud of scandal, and now I’m supposed to walk back in like I wasn’t thrown out the doors. Twice. But thanks to Lillian, I can hold my head high. True to her word, she couriered over a contract, spelling out my dizzying new salary and benefits, plus a company credit card and instructions to look the part when I showed up here Monday morning. I have everything an up-and-coming hotel exec needs. “Miss?” The doorman nods to me, one hand on the handle ready to open the doors. I don’t recognize him, and apparently he doesn’t recognize me. Which means I might actually get in this time without any problems. “Thank you,” I nod back. My brand new black leather pumps make a satisfying click, click, click on the marble floor. It’s good for the confidence. I. Can. Do. This. The lobby is busy, which is great. Camouflage. My plan for today is to hide out and keep a low profile without running into Dominic. Focus on work, and leave the heartbreak and drama for another day. Simple. “Ma’am? Ma’am!” Someone rushes up behind me. Scratch that. Two someones. My heart leaps to my throat as security guards come at me. “Ms. Evans. This way please.” The taller guard reaches for my arm. “Hey!” I protest. “This is all a misunderstanding. Check with Lillian—“ He doesn’t even let me finish. “Mr. Rexford has made it clear that you are banned from the building.” A voice comes from behind me, smooth. “That’s enough. Everyone forgets there are two Mr. Rexfords. And this one says you better release Miss Evans right now.” We all turn. It’s Xander, looking like he’s just strolled in off his yacht – as usual.

He smiles at me, charming. “Apologies, Lillian thought you might have a few hiccups on your first day back.” “Thank you.” I find my voice, straighten my suit, and follow him into the elevator. He’s amused. “I didn’t believe it when Lillian said she’d offered you a job. I’m happy you accepted. I can’t wait to see the look on Dominic’s face when you walk into the board meeting.” He smirks. My mind clings to ‘board’ and ‘meeting.’ “Uh, when is the meeting?” The elevator dings, stops, and opens before he replies. “Oh, right now. Senior management.” So much for taking a few days to acclimate. “What’s on the agenda?” I ask nervously. “We’re discussing plans for the hotel’s new direction.” He pauses. “Just a warning. Dominic isn’t going to like anything we have to say today. You know he thinks this place is his own personal kingdom. Listening isn’t his strong suit.” Even after everything, I find myself bristling. “This is your chance to kick him when he’s down, is that it?” “No,” Xander says quietly. “This is all of us coming together for the benefit of the Rexford. You know that we have to fight against Prescott’s threat. For years, this place has been Dom’s domain, his territory. But it’s time for him to see the bigger picture before Prescott destroys us.” Xander leads me into the conference room. He blocks me as we enter so I don’t get a full view of the table or the room. But then I spot Lillian and she waves to the chair next to her. Xander moves, and then I see him, Dominic, standing in his normal spot at the head of the table. The lines of his body are severe and my hands itch to knead the tension out of him. I don’t notice who else is in the room, or even that I’m staring until Xander whispers at me to sit. That’s when he notices me. Dom looks straight at me, his gaze like a cold wind. The tension before was nothing to the way his body tightens now. I slip into my chair and look away, trying to stay calm. “What the hell is she doing here?” His voice is lethally quiet, just for us to hear. “Oh relax,” Lillian smiles. “Don’t scare off my new Executive Liaison on her first day.” “What?” I want to slink down in my seat and keep going until I find China. “My Executive Liasion.” Lillian repeats. “Juliet is one of the brightest interns this hotel has ever had. She must be, or you wouldn’t have given her so much… responsibility. I had to snatch her up.” I feel his stare, and I don’t know if it’s worse to look, or continue to study the wood grain on the table. “Moving on.” Dom finally announces. The rest of the people in the room pay

attention. “I’ve come to a decision. We’re going to handle the Prescott problem by doing exactly what we’ve been doing.” “So, nothing?” Xander looks annoyed. “Keeping our dignity, Xander. Something you know nothing about.” Dom stares his brother down. “There’s nothing to gain by engaging in a smear war with Prescott. We’ll continue excellent guest service and—” “Boring.” Xander leans back in his seat and props his feet on the table. “We need to fight back. The hotel is overdue for a redesign, and new publicity. The world needs to see us as a classic luxury hotel with a modern twist. You know, spice it up.” A low murmur fills the room. I agree, which makes me feel guilty, too. My still heart lies with Dominic, but my loyalty is to the future of The Rexford. And I won’t have a job if the hotel implodes before I get a chance to make a difference. Dom’s jaw sets like stone. “What do you have in mind? Letting some celebrity trash the place for some spicy press?” Xander’s face lights up. “Exactly! Front page news. Better yet, let the paparazzi catch a congressman in bed with his eighteen-year-old golf caddy. Prime publicity, right there.” Dominic stiffens. “Exactly what I expect from you. I’m in charge, and we won’t be capitalizing on sleazy press.” Xander slides a look to Lillian. “Actually, we’re in charge. Between Lillian and I, we have the controlling shares.” Dom takes a step back, as if his brother had physically punched him. Lillian clears her throat. “I agree. Not with sleazy press, of course, but with a new strategy. Juliet, what do you think?” There’s silence. Me? “Her opinions don’t matter,” Dom grinds out between gritted teeth. “I disagree. The best press this hotel has had in years was from the gala event she planned. Go on, Juliet.” Lillian looks at me expectantly. I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the anger in Dom’s eyes. “Guests have commented on the outdated décor. A redesign can be subtle but powerful. A fresh advertising campaign will target the younger, wealthy demographic we’ve been missing. There’s a way to stay true to the Rexford’s history,” I add quickly, “but make some changes for good. The point is to give the press a new story, a reason to write about us. Business as usual isn’t a good story, but a great new design will be.” I stop, waiting for Dom’s reaction. He doesn’t move for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he gets up from his seat and simply walks out. It’s a more powerful statement than any words he could have spoken. Xander leans over. “Don’t worry. He’ll come around.” I nod, but I don’t believe it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

A week later, and I still don’t feel like I belong here on the executive floor. Lillian

found me an office and even gave me use of an assistant, but I can’t help feeling like an interloper when all the other secretaries and interns look at me like I’m way above my station. I try to keep my head down and focus on work. Lillian put me in charge of pulling together a team for the redesign: PR people, designers, and more. I still have the details of everyone who worked the big gala event, so I hit the ground running. I even found an amazing interior designer who’s restored some of the best old buildings in the country. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on the famous Rexford, and couriered over a portfolio of ideas almost the next day. Now a draft of the grand lobby is spread across my desk, along with fabric and paint swatches. I can’t stop running my fingers over the colorful rendering of what the Rexford could be. It’s stunning. “It’s elegant, modern, and kissed with history,” I say excitedly, out loud to myself in my empty office. I don’t care. I want to kiss the drawing, but that might be crossing a line. “How inviting.” My head snaps up. Xander is leaning against the door frame with a charming look on his face. I laugh. “I know it sounds weird, but this design is sexy.” “This I’ve got to see.” Xander strolls around to my side of the desk and surveys the plans. I wait, nervous. “Well?” “Well, what?” He gives me a sly grin. “Oh, were you waiting for my opinion?” “Yes!” “Sorry. I’m not used to people caring what I think.” I’m tempted to roll my eyes. Xander’s whole nobody-loves-me routine is half sincere and half attention-seeking, but I’m not falling for it today. “Boo-hoo,” I smile. “Talk.” Finally, he puts me out of my misery. “I like it. With a few tweaks, it would be the perfect new look for this place.”

“Tweaks? Like what?” “Well…” Xander surveys the plans. ‘This braid trim is too heavy for the lobby furniture. And this shade of blue is a touch too dark for the ceiling.” He flips through the swatches. “The Rexford’s elegance is subtle. Here.” He hands me new samples, and I hold them to the drawing. He’s right. “You’ve got a really good eye for this sort of thing,” I say, impressed. “I’ve seen almost every luxury hotel in the world.” He winks. “Mostly on my back.” I can’t help laughing.. “Seriously, Juliet, this design is amazing. Well done. Now, you just need to run it past Dom for the go-ahead.” He says it casually, as if there isn’t a blood feud going on between Dominic and me. I’ve done a great job of avoiding him since the planning meeting last week. In fact, avoiding Dom is ninety-nine percent of the reason I hide in my office. Cowardly. But I’ve always been good at self-preservation, especially when it comes to my heart. My stomach knots. I really don’t want to see him today. “You have to face him sometime.” Xander says. “I was planning like a year from now,” I say grimly. “Maybe a decade or two.” He laughs. “Welcome to my world. Just remember, he’s all bark and no bite.” Bite. I flash back to Dom biting down gently on my shoulder, locking me tightly in his arms as he moved deep inside. Oh God. I roll up the drafts and gather the swatches. “Wish me luck.” DOM’S OFFICE door is shut and his secretary is nowhere to be seen. I tentatively knock. My heart is racing and the knock goes over too lightly. I can barely hear it. Crap. I knock again. Harder. And think about all the natural disasters that could conveniently occur right now. Earthquake. Tornado. Zombie apocalypse. “Come in.” I turn the handle and step into the room. Dom is at his desk with a ton of paperwork in front of him. When he sees me, his expression goes hard. It’s like an invisible door closing between us, and I know I can’t get through it. “Get out.” I find my voice. “I need to show you something.” “Then send someone else.” Don’t let him crush you. I force myself not to wilt under his angry glare. Instead, I pull myself up to my full height and stare straight back. “I’m doing my job here. You may not agree, but at least you can be professional.”

Dom blinks, almost like he’s surprised. Then he gives me a curt nod. “Very well.” I walk over to his desk and lay out the new plans. His cologne hits me, familiar and sexy as hell, but I fight to keep my head. This is no time for hormones to get the better of me. I lay out the new plans. “There,” I tell him. “I know you didn’t want a redesign, so I’ve done my best to keep a sense of the Rexford’s original look.” Silence. When I look up, he’s studying me with an unreadable look. “Was this your plan all along?” “This?” I motion to the drawing. “It’s close to what I had in—“ “No.” Dom interrupts, taking a step closer to me. “Conspiring with Lillian to steal hotel away from me. That first night, you dug your claws into me and I fell for it.” I tense. “You keep acting like this was a big conspiracy, but I’m telling you, I didn’t know who you were that night. You didn’t say your real name.” “Bullshit!” I snap. I’m sick of him treating me like I’m the enemy. I never meant for any of this to happen, and no matter how angry and betrayed he’s feeling, he doesn’t get to push me around. “You want to know the real story?” I demand. “Or would you prefer to just keep hating me? You haven’t given me a chance to explain. You just jumped to conclusions and never backed down.” “I saw the explanation. Those photos were clear enough.” “For God’s sake, Dom, listen to me! My friend is a decoy for a private investigator. I was a stand-in for her that night, that’s all. I had no idea who you were, or why someone wanted pictures of us together. I was just supposed to flirt, maybe kiss you a little. That’s it!” Dom hesitates, just for a moment. “I don’t believe you.” “I left, remember?” I exclaim angrily. “You came after me. You were the one who wanted to go upstairs. You wouldn’t let me go.” Dominic takes another step closer, and my skin lights up with awareness. I should step away, but I’m not going to back down. “Why did you go upstairs with me?” Dom demands, just inches away. I can feel the heat from his body, that overwhelming physicality taking hold of me like a drug. “If fucking me wasn’t the job, then why didn’t you get in the cab and leave?” “Because that part wasn’t on the books.” I tell him. “ I wanted you.” “Me or my money?” “Fuck you, Dominic.” I start to turn away. “Not every girl you meet is a golddigger. Some of us don’t need six figures to screw you.” He catches my wrist before I can leave, and pulls me back against his body. For a moment I’m crushed there, feeling the heat, his powerful muscles tightly coiled and ready for release. Lust slams through me, clenching between my thighs as his lips graze my

earlobe. “You’re right,” he murmurs, sexy and raw. “If I recall, you needed much, much less.” He trails his fingertips down my collarbone, to the first button on my silk blouse. I freeze, paralyzed with a sudden need that burns every inch of me. He still hates me. I know, he doesn’t believe a word I say, but somehow, that doesn’t matter. All I want is to feel his hand on me, and his body taking me, hard and fast. His fingers close around my breast. A moan slips from my lips, and it’s like the signal he’s been waiting for. In one swift move, Dom spins me around and shoves me over his desk. My hands go down on the surface to brace myself, my ass pressing into him automatically. I grind back against the hardness in his pants until Dom yanks my skirt up over my hips and my panties down around my thighs. Cool air hits my naked skin, and a moment later, a stinging slap rains down on my ass. I yelp in surprise and pain. “That’s right,” Dom growls. He wraps one hand in my French braid, using it to arch my body back as he spanks me again. “You deserve to be punished for what you’ve done.” Another slap rains down on my naked ass. The sting slams through me, but it’s oh so sweet. I grip on to the edge of the desk, feeling a wild heat like nothing before. Fuck, I’ve missed him so much, this dominant power that makes me lose all control. Dom presses me back down onto the desk, then slowly circles it, watching me from all angles. “This is where I pictured fucking you, that first night we met.” He casually unbuckles his belt and opens his pants. “Did you know? I wanted to bring you back here, and make you beg, naked and spread for me. Screaming my name.” “Dom…” I whisper, already needing his dick buried deep inside. He smirks. “Not loud enough. Not even close. But I promise, once you got every last inch of my cock grinding that G-spot til you break, you’ll be screaming the whole fucking hotel down.” Yes! I know better than to break position, but I thrust my ass back, wanting his touch again. He moves behind me again, and suddenly forces my legs wider apart. Then his hands are on me: grabbing, stroking, kneading my ass. His fingers zero in on my clit and rub in a punishingly pleasurable burst of friction. Fuck! I moan into the desk, grinding back. He thrusts two fingers into my wetness and my moans get louder. It’s the middle of the day, there could be people right outside the door, but I don’t care. My whole body is wound so fucking tight, I need him, and I need him hard. “Please, Dominic!” The words tear from my mouth as he finger-fucks me from behind. I ride him hard, chasing the climax, but two fingers are nothing compared to the goods I know he’s got waiting for me. “Fuck me,” I demand through gritted teeth. I don’t want to beg. I’m going to make it an order. “Fuck me hard, right now.”

Dom growls, pulling his hand away. I collapse, panting and needy on the desk. No! For a moment, I wonder if he’s going to leave me here, so close, but then I hear the yank of his zipper. He enters me hard, thrusting deep, all the way to the hilt. “Yes!” I scream, slammed into the desk with the impact of his thrust. Dom grabs my hair, and pistons into me again. “You feel that?” He demands, his cock filling me all the way up. “You belong to me. This sweet cunt is all mine. And I’ll take it whenever I damn please.” He grips my hips, his fingernails digging into my flesh as he fucks me hard and fast, just the way I need it. “You can lie to me all you want, but your body can’t pretend.” Dom reaches to grab my breast, squeezing at my stiff nipples until I want to sob with the pleasure. “It knows who the boss is. And I’m not going to stop until I’ve claimed every inch of you from the inside out.” He thrusts so deep, so goddamn deep I could lose my mind. I want it to last, to feel him inside me all day, but I’m close again, my climax rising up in an unstoppable surge of heat. I grind back against him, meeting every stroke, loving how deep his cock drives, how the friction sets me on fire. He spanks my ass again, just the right side of pain, grinding up inside me in a harsh, angry rhythm. Our grunts fill the room, animal and raw. “Say it,” he demands. “Say you belong to me!” I clench my jaw. I won’t give in. But then Dom slows his pace. Oh God. Now he’s thrusting slow and deep, gripping me against his body so I can’t escape, can’t push back, can’t do anything but take his cock one mind-blowing, meaty inch at a time. “Dom…” I moan, struggling in his arms. But his cock is unstoppable, and I’m close. So close! “Say. It.” Dom growls. I can hear the tension in his voice, feel the rigid drive of his body. I want to disobey but fuck, I can’t resist him, not like this. I break. “Yes,” I scream, feeling my body constrict with pleasure. “I’m yours, I belong to you!” Dom lets out a roar. With a final epic slam he thrusts up inside me, so deep and so good I come hard enough to lose my mind. I feel him shudder, hear the groan echo through him as he collapses against me, spent. I lay against the desk. My heartbeat measures the seconds until Dominic moves away from me. I hear him pull up his pants, but I’m too wiped out to move. Jesus H Christ. That was the most epic fuck of my life. “Clean yourself up.” Dom’s voice comes, cool and measured. What? I struggle upright and turn – then wish I hadn’t. He’s buckling his belt a few feet away. His expression is unreadable, distanced and aloof. Is he serious? “No.” I struggle upright, pleasure still coursing through my system. “No way do

you pull that bullshit on me now. Not after that.” “What else am I supposed to do?” “Act like an adult and talk about it.” I demand. “This, what we have between us, it’s real OK? And you can’t just fuck it away.” For a moment I see it on his face: pain. The kind of agony I’ve been feeling, hurt and betrayal. Heartbreak, too. Then it’s gone. “I can’t.” He says, his voice cracking raw. Then he walks out, and I’m all alone. Again. I stay there a moment, slowly pulling my skirt down and tidying my hair. Even though I wanted this, I feel numb. I can’t keep letting him do this to me. No matter how much I was falling for him, no matter how deep I thought our connection ran. That’s over – he just made it perfectly clear. And I’m not the kind of girl to let a man treat me like this, yell at me, and judge me, and fuck me like I mean nothing to him. It’s over now; it has to be. I’m done.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

A fter what went down in his office, I don’t want to look at him again, but Dom is

suddenly everywhere. It’s like he’s making a point of being where I am. The hall, the elevator, even the freaking breakroom. Considering he has a fancy espresso machine and a Keurig in his office, I don’t brush that off as coincidence. What is he playing at? Thursday lunchtime, he comes striding out of his office just as I get off the elevator. My assistant rushes to help with the armful of fabric samples, design prints, laptop bag, and coffee I’m trying to balance. “Thanks, Meredith,” I say, focusing on her so I don’t look at Dom. From my peripheral vision, I see him walk by me. He greets someone in a smooth tone that drips with flirtation. It’s almost seductive. I’ve never heard him use that tone with anyone… except me. Who is he talking to like that? Dominic is leaning next to a female intern sitting at one of the secretary desks. His face is turned toward her, his lips close to her ear. She’s blushing, her eyes lowered as a sneaky grin tugs her lips. He says something in a sexy, bedroom tone, and she laughs. I can’t tear my eyes away. After everything we shared—Paris, planning the gala, the intimate moments when he opened up to me—this is what he does all over again? I swallow back my hurt. I should be glad he’s making this easy for me. I said I was moving on, and clearly, that’s exactly what he’s doing too. “Juliet, darling. There you are.” Lillian appears and loops her arm through mine. “Let’s chat over lunch. I’m dying to know how the renovation planning is coming along.” An escape? I never thought of Lillian as my savior, but right now she’s giving me the perfect excuse to get away. “That sounds great.” WE WALK a couple of blocks to a restaurant she loves. Lillian makes small talk, but I don’t hear much of what she says. My brain keeps replaying the scene from the

office, Dom leaning in close to that girl – just like he used to do with me. I follow Lillian up to the roof terrace and take a seat, still distracted. Lillian flags down a waitress. “Mimosas, please. And keep them coming.” She looks back at me. “No offence, but you look like you need a drink.” “Is it really that obvious?” She gives me a sympathetic smile. “You’re forgetting, I’ve been on the other end of Dom’s tantrums. It’s not a pleasant place to be. Let me guess, he’s started flirting with everything in a skirt?” I nod. Lillian rolls her eyes. “It’s so juvenile. He’s doing it just to make a point. He doesn’t mean any of it.” “How can you be so sure?” “Because Dominic Rexford may be many things, but a cheater isn’t one of them.” Lillian takes a calm sip of her water. “He wouldn’t screw around when he’s still in love with you.” What? I stare at her in disbelief. She smirks. “I know my ex-husband. Trust me, you’re the only one he cares about right now.” “But… why are you telling me this?” I can’t figure her out. “You mean, I’m supposed to be a jealous bitch hell-bent on stealing him back?” Lillian gives a little laugh. “Please, darling. We’re both adults here. And I have no interest in reliving my marriage with Dom. We tried it, it didn’t work, the end.” I’m still reeling. She seems so calm. So mature. Everything I’m trying and failing to be right now. The waiter arrives with the mimosas. I take a gulp and look around. It’s a gorgeous terrace, with potted topiaries and fresh flowers growing along the edge of the roof. . “So… what, um, what happened with the two of you?” I ask. Lillian shrugs lightly. “We were a good match. Our families knew each other, I saw him at a lot of the same events, and we had a good time. We were a team.” Despite everything, I feel a pang of jealousy. “It was a beautiful wedding,” Lillian gives a nostalgic sigh. “But then. Well, Dominic is a hard man to tap. Emotionally, I mean. He’s… aloof, contained. He never let me in, never let me see the real Dominic. I needed more of a connection than that.” Her smile turns softer, vulnerable. She’s more like Dominic than she realizes. Inside her classy, cool exterior is a human being craving love and affection. They just couldn’t give that love to each other. Lillian smiles cheerily, the melancholy on her face suddenly gone. “Anyway, consider it a cautionary tale. Dom doesn’t know how to open up, and you need to ask yourself if you can settle for that.” I hear her, but I don’t believe her. I’ve seen Dominic loosen up. I’ve seen him crumble. As much as he’s hurt me, I can’t imagine that it was all in my head.

“He’s opened up to me,” I blurt. “He let me in, a little bit.” She looks surprised and I shut up before I say too much. If he never shared that side of himself with Lillian, it’s not my place to do it for him. “Well, maybe he can change.” She gives me a supportive smile. “Either way, you shouldn’t let him walk all over you at work. You can’t build your world around a man like that. You never know when the walls will give way.” She looks like she’s going to say more, but the waiter arrives with Caprese salads and salmon. I realize how little I’ve been eating lately. Maybe it’s stress, or the mimosas, but I’m suddenly ravenous. “There she is! Lillian!” I look up in time to see Blaine Prescott heading right for our table, knocking a waiter aside in his haste to come greet Lillian. “I didn’t know you were back in town,” he smarms, looking like a reject from a Ralph Lauren ad with his blond hair slicked back and a white seersucker suit. “You should have returned my calls. We must have dinner!” “Blaine, so nice to see you,” Lillian says without conviction. He’s smiling widely at her, adoration clear on his face. Lillian returns to her meal as if she hopes he’ll just go away. Instead, he puts a hand on the back of her chair and leans in. “You look stunning as always. Dom never did know a good thing when he had it.” He laughs again. Ewww. “There’s a new French restaurant opening tomorrow night. I could make us reservations—” Lillian puts up a hand. “I’m sorry, darling. I really can’t tomorrow.” Nonplussed, Blaine leans even closer, his armpit in perfect alignment to Lillian’s face. “The day after, then.” “Blaine,” Lillian’s voice snaps before it sweetens. “I’m flattered, but I’m not interested.” Blaine’s face changes. He takes a slow breath through his nose and I feel like I’m waiting for an explosion. Lillian is tense, but she doesn’t look at him, just keeps on cutting her tomatoes and mozzarella into tiny bites. “So this is where the Rexford’s beauties wandered off to.” The tension is broken by a familiar flirty voice. Xander saunters over, his crooked smile and good looks turning heads. Lillian lights up when she sees him, clearly relieved. Me too. Xander takes in the situation with one look, then extends his hand to Lillian. “Emergency at the office, sweetheart. I need you back right away.” “Of course.” Lillian gets up, moving to put Xander between herself and Blaine. “Sorry Jules, you’ll finish up here? Take your time.” She quickly places a credit card down, gives Xander a grateful smile, and lets him whisk her out of the terrace. And just like that, I’m left alone with Blaine. Of course, then he notices me. “What’s Xander doing back anyway? I thought he

was off fucking supermodels.” He sits with a thud. “He’s back for Lillian,” I hear myself say. “You know, to help her out. They’ve always been close.” I have no idea if that’s true, but maybe if Blaine thinks Xander and Lillian are a thing, he’ll back off and stop acting so creepy. Blaine scowls. “I didn’t know. Huh. She should have learned her lesson after the first Rexford screwed her over.” He mumbles something after that, but I don’t wait around. I grab the credit card and my purse and stand. “If you’ll excuse me. Back to work.” I don’t care if it’s impolite. I don’t even care if he responds. I hoof it inside to the bar, pay my tab, and get the hell out. An uneasy feeling follows me, and I hope that’s the last time I have to deal with Blaine Prescott. If only I could be so lucky. BY LUNCH the next day I’m so stressed I can almost feel my hair falling out. From the moment I walk into the office, I duck through one emergency after another. If this is some kind of ‘welcome to the corporate’ world initiation, I’m pretty sure I’m failing it. Add that to the general whispers that still follow me around the building, and the fact the other interns all hate my guts, and I can’t wait to get away from the drama. The minute the clock hits noon, I’m out of there. At first, I don’t know where I’m going. The sun is shining and it’s beautiful outside. Then I remember an exhibit at the art gallery a few blocks away that I want to see, offering a collection of photography and paintings of old buildings in Chicago. The place is almost empty when I arrive. Air condition wafts over me, cooling my skin and my nerves. Suddenly, the stress of the Rexford seems a hundred miles away. I may only have a short break, but I’ve earned it. I let the calm sink over me, and I slowly stroll the clean, white-walled rooms. My dad used to bring me here for special exhibitions all the time growing up. He would scan the weekend newspapers for fun, free things to do, then take me all around town: to art openings, library events, anything connected to our shared love of architecture and old buildings. He would have loved the show today, photographs and old maps, all highlighting the architectural beauty of Old Chicago. A wave of nostalgia hits me. His passion for old buildings and history preservation are the main reason I have the career I do today. My cellphone rings, breaking the moment. I check the screen. Xander. “Seriously, I’ve been gone like fifteen minutes,” I sigh. “Sorry, darling. My wonderful brother pulled together an investors’ meeting that he has no intention of attending himself. We need to present renovation updates at three.” I groan. “I hate you a little right now.” Xander laughs. “Good thing I’m used to it. Where are you?”

I tell him, and he says he’ll come pick me up in an hour. I shove my phone in the bottom of my purse. If it rings again, I won’t be able to hear it. I continue browsing, and wonder if the impromptu meeting is what set Xander and Dominic off this morning. Xander, remarkably, is better at this hotel stuff than I would have thought. He has an energy about him that draws people in, makes them listen. Not to mention his ideas are fresh. He and I have collaborated more than anyone else, and I go to him first with new ideas. I wish his brother could see in Xander what I do. If they’d work together, there’s no telling how far we could take the Rexford’s new direction. I head around the corner to the back room – and come face to face with Dom. What the hell? “Juliet.” He freezes, looking as shocked as I feel. “I—I didn’t know you were here.” He’s probably going to think I am stalking him now. But instead of being tense and angry – his default setting these past weeks – Dom just takes a deep breath. “What do you think?” He nods to a painting on the far wall. I realize that it’s the Rexford as it was a hundred years ago, painted in impressionist style with muted colors. I wonder if he’s testing me. “I think it would look amazing hanging in the grand lobby.” I answer, cautious. “I’ve purchased it for that exact reason.” I sneak a look at him. He’s wearing dark pants and a white button-down, open at the neck. Good enough to eat. I flash to a memory of taking his cock between my lips, but quickly cut that fantasy short. Get a grip. If I let my thoughts get X-rated every time he walks by, I’m going to be frustrated as hell. “Join me in the courtyard?” He asks, taking me by surprise. “Sure,” I finally reply and hurry to catch up. He doesn’t say anything as we walk out to the small green space out back. There’s a bench and some sculptures dotting the lawn. Dom takes a seat at one end of the bench, and I slowly sit down too. Silence. “The new PR team is working out,” I begin to babble. “They booked a release party for some new pop star. I know you didn’t want any scandal, but it’s good publicity. And we’re talking to some location scouts about having the Rexford used in a couple of upcoming movies, too.” I keep my voice light. “Fine.” Dom says curtly. He’s staring into space, looking troubled and tense. “Are you…?” I pause. “Is everything OK?” He turns to me. “What do you think?” Is he talking about the hotel or us? “I think you’ve been through a lot,” I say carefully. “But Lillian and your brother aren’t the enemy. They’re trying to help. You’re not in this alone.” His eyes are unreadable.

“And what about you?” he asks, piercing me with a stare. “Are you just ‘trying to help’ too?” He’s still closed off, radiating power and control. He never gives anything away, no hints about his real feelings, but it just makes me long for the old Dom: wild and untamed. . “I’m sorry for everything that’s happened. You have to know, I never planned any of this.” I reach for him, without thinking, and place my hand on his arm. The touch between us is electric. I want more. Skin to skin. God, he’s so close. “But it happened.” Dom breaks contact. “I’ve thought it through from every direction. You could have come clean the first day of your internship. If you’d told me about the set-up, I could have figured out the legal ramifications of what happened. Instead, you played along, and I was blindsided.” “I didn’t tell you that first day because I was terrified of losing my job. But then things spiraled. And I didn’t want you to find out, not when I was falling in love with you.” The words slip out before I can stop myself. I freeze, but part of me is relieved. I should have told him in Paris, and then I should have told him the truth. Dom’s expression changes. His eyes blaze into me, I’m silently praying for him to say something. The silence stretches on, until, finally, he takes a deep breath. “Juliet—“ Another voice interrupts us. “Well, look at you lovebirds. Finally kissing and making up?” Xander strolls over, smirking. Dom tenses, and the shutters on his expression slam down. “Jesus, haven’t I dealt with you enough today?” Dominic snaps. His face is stony now, and whatever he was about to say to me is history. “I’m not here for you, brother. Juliet is the only one I want.” Xander winks, and I want to strangle him. “Dom—“ I turn, but he’s already on his feet, looking brisk. “See you back at the office,” he snaps, and walks away. “Whoops?” Xander offers, not at all concerned. “You don’t even know,” I sigh, and follow him out to his car. It’s red – of course – and sporty, with leather seats and sleek, powerful body. “You’re such a cliché,” I tell him, getting into the passenger seat and buckling up. I don’t want to think about what just happened – or almost happened. “Me?” Xander laughs. “The women, the yacht, the cars… If they looked up ‘playboy billionaire’ in the dictionary, your photo would be right there.” “My good side, I hope.” Xander quips, starting the engine. With a wolfish grin, he throws the car into drive and whips into traffic. “Are you okay?” He looks over at me – and away from the road. “Xander!” I yelp. I grab the dash and watch the road, realizing I’ve been in this situation before. With Dominic. “You know, you drive like your brother.”

“Ha! You’ve got that backwards. He drives like me. Who do you think taught him?” He downshifts and the little car bursts forward. I try to relax, but that’s not going to happen. The light turns red just as we cross an intersection. My heart slams into my throat. “We’re not in a race here.” “Sorry.” He slows down, barely. “But what’s the point in buying a car that can do two hundred if you don’t let her rip?” “Rip some other time,” I say, as we speed through another intersection. “Seriously, Xander, slow down!” “I’m trying!” Something in his voice makes me look over. Xander looks pale, he’s flooring the brakes but nothing’s happening. “Stop kidding around,” I tell him, my panic rising. “I’m not. Fuck—” Oh, God. I spot the light go red before I see a truck barreling straight for us. For me. I scream. Suddenly, Xander yanks the wheel, putting the car into a spin. My body slams into the passenger door as the world tilts on its axis. There’s the sound of impact, shattering glass and groaning metal and screams. Then everything goes black.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

There’s a sharp ringing in my ears. I groan, pain throbbing in my ribs. I can’t

move; it feels like I’m suspended in space. What just happened? I open my eyes. The world is upside down: broken glass, and twisted metal, and some kind of airbag… Suddenly it all comes rushing back to me. The red light. The truck—no brakes! From the corner of my eye, I see a flash of denim and blood. “Oh God, Xander!” He’s crumpled against the seat and the roof, his body folded like he’s been stuffed there. The airbag blocks my full view, but I spy his arm outstretched as if he’s reaching for me. With a cry, I desperately try to reach him. Pain courses through my neck and shoulders, making it harder to move. “Xander!” The seatbelt is cutting into my chest and belly, blood rushing to my head. Wave after wave of dizziness assaults me as I scramble for my seatbelt. Everything seems in slow motion. This is all taking too long. Why can’t I find the damn belt buckle? “Xander!” I scream again, praying for some kind of response. “Move your fingers. Xander, please!” Suddenly, I find the seatbelt latch. I tuck my head instinctively as I slide down into a heap inside the tiny sports car. I grab at Xander’s hand, but his fingers don’t move. My vision is blurry, but I look over him the best I can for more bleeding— anything. Then I realize a low, gurgling sound is coming from his lips. Tiny pink bubbles form in the corner of his mouth. Oh fuck! He’s so crumbled up that he probably can’t breathe. He’s going to stop breathing if I don’t do something. Tears roll down my face at the hopelessness of it. How am I going him without help? Help. Why hasn’t anyone come to help me? I attempt to turn and look out the side window, but a misty fog in the air and the

airbag block my view. That’s when I hear shouting from outside. Maybe a baby crying? Someone is banging on the car. A phone is ringing. It sounds close. I find Xander’s cell peeking out from beneath him. Grabbing it, I hit the speaker button. “Help!” I cry. I don’t know who it is, and I don’t care. “I need help!” “Juliet?” The tears come harder along with an overwhelming sense of relief. “Dominic! Oh God. It’s Xander, we got hit by a truck. He’s not moving—“ “Slow down. Juliet, tell me where you are.” “I don’t know,” I sob. “We were driving back to the office. We can’t be far.” “Baby, hang on. I’m on my way.” “There’s no time!” I cry. “I need to get Xander out! I don’t think he’s breathing.” “Jesus! Can you open a door?” “I don’t know. The car rolled, we’re upside down.” I try to open the door on my side. “No, the metal buckled, I can’t get it open.” “Just stay calm,” Dom orders me. The banging on the door beside me gets louder, followed by a muffled shouting. The smoky haze seems to have gotten worse, along with the acrid smell of something burning. “Are you hurt?” Dominic’s calm voice pulls me back and I take quick mental stock of myself. My wrist and head hurt. My back aches and I think I bit my tongue, but otherwise, I’m in one piece. “I’m okay, I think.” “Thank God. See if you can break the window. You need to get out of there.” I twist around. The window by me is already cracked. I bring my knees to my chest, and kick out. It cracks some more. Again. Finally, it shatters. I kick as much out as I can, and cool air comes rushing in. “The window’s out,” I tell Dom, panicked. “But Xander’s still unconscious.” I grab his shoulder and try to drag him, but he’s too heavy. “Dom.” My voice breaks. “I can’t do this.” “Yes, you can,” he reassures me. I can hear noise in the background on his end of the call: traffic and sirens. God, I hope he’s close. “You can do this, Juliet. Just stay calm.” I gulp another lungful of air and try to focus. Xander’s leg is at a weird angle, trapped under the console. I reach in and lever it free, hoping to God I’m not causing more damage. Then I try to grab his shoulders again. This time, his body moves. I try again, grabbing both shoulders and pulling him toward me. Pain shoots through my right wrist and up my arm. I hold back a scream and grit my teeth. With a pull greater than anything I’ve ever done, I bring Xander toward me and drag the both of us out of the car. “Whoa there!” Hands come to help me, more bodies. Passers-by, I guess, but

I’m too relieved to think straight. They help pull Xander free from the wreckage and lay him out on the ground. “Is he breathing?” I demand, panicked. A guy leans over to check, and then I see it: the tell-tale rise and fall of Xander’s chest. “All-clear,” the guy nods. “This thing’s burning!” A cry of warning goes up. “Everybody get back!” I’m so dizzy I sink to the curb. The car is a mangled twist of metal and glass, fire licking out from under the hood. That could have been us, burning inside. It was close. Too close. The last thing I think before passing out is Dom. I need to tell him his brother is OK.

“WELCOME BACK,” a gentle voice says. I blink awake and find an older man in a white coat wrapping up my wrist. “You’ve broken your wrist, my dear. This is a temporary cast for the next three days until the swelling goes down. Then you get the real thing.” I sit bolt upright. “Where’s Xander?” I demand, panicked. “Is he OK?” Before he can answer, the door flies open. Dominic bursts in. “Juliet. Thank God!” He pulls me into a fierce hug. "Oww!" I wince. “I’m sorry,” Dom eases his grip a little, but doesn’t let me go. “God, I’m so sorry.” My face presses into his neck as he strokes my hair. His muscles relax, but he’s still so tense. “I’m safe now.” I hold him tightly, never wanting to release him. But I have to know. I pull back. “Xander?” Dom’s face darkens. “He has internal bleeding. He’s in surgery now. That’s all I know. I could kill him myself for putting you at risk like that. What was he thinking?” “He saved me!” I protest. “The truck was heading straight for my side of the car. If Xander hadn’t spun to get me out of the way…” I trail off, horrified by the thought. Dom’s expression changes. “I didn’t realize. Fuck.” He takes my face in his hands and kisses my forehead. “They said he’ll be alright. In the meantime I’m getting you a private room, the best possible doctors.” “She’ll be able to go home tonight,” the gray haired doctor says. “You have a mild concussion, a broken wrist, bruised ribs, and some scrapes.” Dom nods. “Then I’m taking you home.” “But what about Xander?” I ask, feeling guilty. “Shouldn’t we stay?” The doctor shakes his head. “His surgery will last several hours. We’ll call as soon as we have an update.”

DOM DEALS WITH THE PAPERWORK, then takes me home. The other girls aren’t home yet, so he settles me in bed like I’m made of glass – which I’m feeling right about now. My head still aches, and the pills they gave me for my wrist are making me woozy. “Can you tell me what you remember?” Dom asks, as he tucks the covers around me. “About the crash?” My mouth feel like an old gym sock has been stuffed inside. It takes a second to work around it. “He was going too fast. I told him to slow down. But then, the brakes didn’t work. He couldn’t stop. And then, the truck… He saved my life.” Noise comes from the living room – Callie and Em arriving home. Dom goes to talk to them, and then I’m lying on a cloud. Such a happy, cozy, warm little cloud. These pain pills aren’t messing around. Dom hovers over me with a small, sad smile. Slowly, his lips brush mine before he claims them completely. It’s tender and sweet and probably a figment of the narcotics. But it feels so good; it has to be real. Dom pulls away and runs a finger down my cheek. “I’m going to check on Xander, but I’ll be back soon.” I try to reach for him, to make him stay, but all my strength is gone. I hear his footsteps leave the room, but his scent and the taste of his sweet kiss stay. As I drift off to sleep, I cling to the hope that he’ll be back with more.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“M en are idiots.” Callie announces the next morning, when I’ve surfaced from

my painkiller haze. I feel raw and bruised, but nothing hurts too badly, just an ache in my wrist. Mostly, I’m just shaken up, but the girls are trying their best to distract me with a schedule of bad reality TV and snacks. “Dominic is a hot idiot, though,” she adds. Emily stretches out next to me. “Hot doesn’t make up for him waiting until Juliet nearly died before he’d talk to her.” “Hey,” I stop her, feeling a cold shiver. “Let’s not think about that part.” “Sorry.” Em gives my hand a squeeze. Callie puts a movie in the DVD player, turns the volume down low, and sits on my other side. I’m a roommate sandwich. Since Dominic dropped me off, these two have hovered like the mother hens they are—feeding me, helping me shower, tucking me into bed, annoying the hell out of me. I’m grateful for their overprotective company because I don’t want to be alone right now. Every time I close my eyes, I think about the accident and worry about Xander. I really need to focus on something else, for my own sanity. Like Dom. “The hot idiot kissed me,” I confess. Callie and Em whip their heads around. “It was probably the adrenaline.” I sigh. “You know, a stress-kiss.” “A man like that does not stress-kiss. Everything he does is intentional.” Callie has a point. At least, I hope she does. The crash, going through something like that, it made everything clear for me. I still love Dom. I need him in my life. I can only hope he feels the same. We’re just about done with another episode of some home makeover show doorbell sounds. Emily scoots down to go answer, and a moment later, Dom is standing in the doorway. He looks like he hasn’t slept, but he’s never been hotter: sexy two-day stubble on his jaw, his clothing rumpled and out of place. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” he says, but his expression is relieved. “Hi,” is all I can manage in response. I’m suddenly overwhelmed with emotion,

and it’s all I can do to keep from crying like a baby. “Oh. Hi.” Callie’s voice is higher than normal. “I’ll go help Em with… screw it. I’m out of here.” She bolts off the bed and shuts the door behind her. I try and sit straighter, but my ribs burst with pain. “Don’t move,” Dom rushes to my side and tenderly helps me sit forward so he can reposition my pillow. “Better?” “Thanks.” I settle back. “How’s Xander? Is he awake yet?” “They repaired his spleen,” Dom says with obvious relief. “He’s out of recovery and already flirting with the nurses.” “That’s Xander,” I try to laugh, but a tear slides down my cheek instead. “Oh God, if anything had happened to him…” “Shh.” Dom pulls me close. “It’s okay now. Everything is okay.” I realize how much tension I’ve been holding, waiting for news. “I owe him my life, Dominic. He saved me. If he hadn’t turned the car—” He wraps his arms around me softly. “Don’t. I can’t think about losing you.” He pauses, and then his voice is choked with emotion. “Tell me it’s not too late.” I pull back and see his face, the searching look in his dark eyes. Full of tenderness. “Tell me,” he demands. “Tell me I haven’t lost you. That I can spend the rest of my life making up to you.” Even after everything I’ve been through in the past twenty-four hours, my heart swells with happiness. I can see it in his eyes – the way he used to look at me, before he discovered the truth. I wondered if I’d ever see that affection again, if it were too late to repair the damage we’ve both done. But that crash changed everything. Now I know we’re going to be OK. “It’s not too late,” I tell him softly. Dom’s face changes. He reaches to cup my cheek and kiss me, but I stop him. “But I need to know it’s behind us, that you won’t hold it over my head. You have to forgive me for real.” “Only if you can forgive me,” Dom replies. “God, I can’t believe I was so cruel to you. The things I said… I was beyond out of line. You have to know, it was only because I was hurting so much. I felt so betrayed.” “I know,” I reassure him. And then there’s nothing left to say. He kisses me slowly, tenderly, like he’s scared I could break. I pull him closer, already feeling the fire ignite deep inside. It feels so right to be with him again, the manly scent of him overwhelming me, the rasp of his stubble against my cheek, the slow slide of his tongue licking into my mouth. I moan, arching against him. I can’t get close enough—I need to be pressed against every inch of him and have him deep inside. It’s the only way to satisfy the craving he’s unleashed in me. I move to loop my arms around his neck… and nearly club him in the head with my cast. “Sorry,” I laugh. “Probably better leave that arm down. In fact… Why don’t you relax?” He slowly

leans me back against the pillows. His fingers skim my collarbone, sending shivers through me. Dom’s eyes are dark, and flashing with a new lust as he surveys my body, wearing just a thin tank top and sleep shorts. My skin prickles, realizing we’re alone with a locked door and a bed. The perfect combination. Dom clearly thinks so too, because his mouth quirks in a sexy smile. “Let me take care of you tonight.” He slides the covers down my body, exposing me inch by inch. His smile slips when he sees the bruises on my legs, and peeking out from under my shirt. “It’s OK,” I tell him quickly. “I’m just a little sore.” “My poor baby,” he murmurs, lowering his head to drop delicate kisses on the bruised flesh. “You’ve been so brave.” My body tenses as he kisses lower, but this time it’s with delicious anticipation. “Lay back, Juliet.” He orders. “I’m going to make you feel better.” Taking my sweatshirt from the bed, he moves my arms up above my head, and loosely binds them to my headboard. “Just to make sure you don’t injure your wrist again,” he says, faux-concerned. I wriggle, testing the bonds. “We wouldn’t want that.” Dom rocks back on his heels and looks down at me. I feel naked – exposed, and totally turned on. “Now I’ve got you to myself, what am I going to do with you?” Dominic kisses a wandering trail down my body. “I’ve got a few ideas,” I say, arching to meet his mouth. “Oh really?” He inches my tank top over my head. “Tell me.” I bite my lip. “Well… Let’s just say, you could start at the top and work your way down.” He smirks. “Here?” Dom leans down and drops a kiss on my forehead. “Lower.” He kisses my neck. “Getting warmer,” I smile. “Hmmm…” Dom kisses lower, finally grazing the swell of my breast. “Yes. There. Right there.” I fall back against the pillows as he kisses and licks my breasts. He brings my nipples into two hard peaks before finally taking them into his hot mouth, sucking each in turn until I’m panting. “Dom,” I groan, already so turned on I can feel the familiar slick ache between my thighs. He moves down, pressing kisses along my sensitive ribs, over my belly. “Don’t worry, baby,” he says against my skin. “I’m going to take real good care of you. Every last inch.” He slips off my shorts and slowly parts my legs. I look down at the top of his dark head as he settles between my thighs. I want to touch him, but my hands are bound. I can’t do anything but wait, holding my breath as Dom trails a finger over

the top of my mound. Teasing. “I’ve missed your taste,” he says, his breath hot against me. “I could eat you for days.” I shiver with anticipation. And then he lowers his mouth and licks up against me in a hot, wet stroke. Electric sparks dart through my blood as I arch against him. His tongue slides over my clit with agonizing slowness, again and again. It’s devastatingly good. He swirls his tongue, presses harder, softer, skimming his fingers along my skin. I can barely stay on the mattress. Pleasure builds in all directions, the frustratingly sweet pace of his tongue nudging me higher. And moving lower. I yelp in surprise as he curls my legs flat against my chest and I feel the wet stroke of his tongue swirling over my asshole. “Shh,” Dom lifts his head with a wicked smirk. “You need to be quiet. Unless you want your roommates to know exactly what I’m doing to your sweet ass.” He slips a finger back there too, testing at the tight pucker of my ring. My cheeks burn, but I don’t want him to stop. It’s a new, illicit heat building. I wriggle closer and shake my head. “I’ll be good,” I whisper. “I won’t say a word. Not even if you---Ohhh…” I fall back against the pillows as he returns his mouth to me. Rimming the tight knot of muscles then easing his finger just inside. Fuck, this is hot. I want to scream the house down, but I can’t make a sound. And that just makes it hotter. He moves back to my clit, nudging that finger deeper in my ass until he’s knuckle-deep in my most forbidden place. He licks hard and fast, and I have to turn my head into a pillow to groan aloud. Dear God, this man is skilled. “That’s my girl,” he chuckles, watching me squirm. “My dirty, filthy, sexy girl.” Then he slides two more fingers inside my cunt, thrusting his whole hand to fill me up in every place as he closes his lips around my clit and sucks. Fuck! I break apart in another epic shattering orgasm, screaming into the pillow. When I surface, Dom is on his knees watching me with a satisfied smile. “All better?” he teases. I shake my head. He looks confused. “I won’t be all better until you’re inside me.” “Are you sure?” He’s still worried he’ll hurt me, but that consideration just makes me more certain. “Come here,” I tell him. “Right this goddamn second.” He laughs. “Filthy mouth.” “That makes two of us.” Dom doesn’t need another invitation. He takes a condom from his wallet and strips off his clothes, quickly joining me on the bed. He releases my hands, and the feel of his warm skin is everything I need. I stroke down his chest, and lower still,

relishing the feel of him in my hands. Hard. Big. Ready. “Juliet,” he groans, propping himself on his elbow above me. He positions himself between my thighs. Our eyes catch as he enters me, slowly this time. I want to throw my head back from the pleasure, but he won’t let go, won’t look away. I see his soul in his eyes— that part of himself that he’s never shared with anyone but me. Wrapping my legs around him, I hold him as closely as I can, and I realize we’re connected completely. Body and soul. He starts to move, thrusting easily, carefully. “I love you.” The words come, low in my ear. “I love you so much.” Over and over as he thrusts, until we’re moving together and I can’t tell where he ends and I begin. The heat rises again, this time consuming us both, until I break, feeling his shudder as I come apart in his arms. He settles against me, cradling me in his arms. I feel myself drifting off when Dom’s phone rings. “Leave it,” I sigh, holding him tightly. “It might be the hotel.” Grabbing a throw blanket off the bed, he wraps it around his hips and answers the call. “Uh huh. OK. What does that mean?” His expression darkens. My heart stops. “Is it Xander?” I whisper, frantic. “Is he OK?” Dom nods, at me, still talking into his phone. “I can’t talk now. We’ll discuss this later.” He hangs up, but I can tell something’s wrong. He’s tense and thinking hard. “Who was that?” I ask. Dom shakes his head and tries to look reassuring. “Nothing.” I’m not buying it. Now, I’m worried. “Hey, no more secrets.” Dom looks conflicted. “That was the police. They’re looking into the accident. Apparently, someone tampered with the brakes on Xander’s car.” I freeze. “What?” “They were severed, nearly straight through.” Dom looks grim. “Someone tried to kill you both.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

I insist on heading to the hospital to see Xander. After what we’ve just learned, I

need to see he’s OK for myself. Dom doesn’t want me getting out of bed, but I won’t take no for an answer. Soon, we’re heading down the hospital hallway towards his private room. Flirty laughter greets us as we step inside the door. Xander is sitting up in bed, looking pale and bruised, but he’s got that familiar Rexford smile on his face as he charms his young, attractive nurse. “It’s terrible you’re not required to wear the little white nurse’s dress anymore.” Xander smirks, leaning in to her. “With the deep neckline and the hem up to here —” He pauses when he sees us come into the room. “And here comes the party! Join us, please. I’ve been bored as hell on my own. And you know what happens to idle hands.” He winks at the nurse, who blushes. “Your brother is recovering well,” she tells Dom. “Sure I am, I’m the model patient.” Xander folds his arms behind his head. “I’ll be back on my feet in no time. Or on my back.” His gesture is exaggeratedly casual, but I catch a wince. “You don’t need to pretend with us,” I scold him, going to sit by the bed. “You’ve been through hell.” “And I kept on going,” Xander says, but he lets the smile drop. “And it turns out, I have you to thank for that. The medics say you dragged me out of the car.” “It was getting kind of toasty in there.” Now it’s my turn to joke. Anything to keep from reliving the nightmare of feeling trapped in the car, desperate to get him out. “You both were lucky.” Dom’s voice is full of emotion. “It could have been so much worse.” I shoot him a nervous look. I don’t know how much Xander knows, or what we should tell him. But Xander seems to be filled in. He gives a wry smile. “Looks like somebody wants one less Rexford on this earth.” “Do you have any idea who would want to hurt you?” Dom frowns. “Present company excluded, no idea.”

I inhale sharply, but Dom doesn’t say a word. He’s standing there stiffly, his shuttered expression back. To an outsider – to Xander – it would seem like he doesn’t care about his brother at all. But I know differently. I saw his panic when he thought Xander was hurt. He loves him, but the two of them are too pig-headed and stubborn to say sorry first. “OK, enough of this!” I exclaim suddenly. “You guys need to bury the hatchet once and for all. And I don’t mean in each other’s back,” I add. I turn to Dom and give him a fierce look. “Xander didn’t come back to steal the hotel out from under you. He just wants to be a part of the family business, too. And Dom would never hurt you,” I add to Xander. “He went out of his mind when he thought you were hurt. He barely left your bedside all night. No matter what else has happened, you guys are brothers. You love each other. So can we please stop fighting like this and just make up?” There’s silence. For a moment, I think I’ve pushed them too far. These guys are proud. Shit, maybe I’m just making this worse. Then Dom clears his throat, and slowly approaches the bed. He extends a hand formally. “Thank you for looking after Juliet.” “Don’t give me that.” Xander rolls his eyes, then pulls Dom down into a hug. They slap each other’s backs gruffly, the way guys do. I let out a huge sigh of relief. “Well, isn’t this the happy family?” Lillian’s voice comes from the doorway. She looks amused. “I’m glad you’re all in one piece.” Dom’s tense expression returns. “What the hell are you doing here?” “I called her.” I say. “Somebody tried to kill Xander and I. We need to figure this out – all of us.” He scowls. “You’re asking me to trust a woman with Lilian’s track record?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Lillian actually looks offended. “You set me up to claim half my shares in the Rexford. Who says you don’t want to increase that proportion?” “Are you seriously accusing me of attempted murder?” Lillian’s voice rises. “I didn’t hire the guy who took pictures of you and Juliet. The tape and pictures arrived anonymously at my office. I’ve no idea who did it.” “Wait, what?” I frown. “If you didn’t set up the honey trap, then who did?” “I don’t know!” There’s a pause as we all process this news. Lillian continues. “Once I saw the evidence, I had to use it. You never let me have anything to do with the hotel before. It was so damn important to you. I figured I’d see what all the fuss was about. Controlling shares aren’t that much fun, honestly.” Lillian decided she’d try and run a multi-million dollar hotel because she was bored? I remember what she said about Dominic never letting her in. This was her way of seeing inside his private world—maybe a little inside him, too. “So who did this?” I ask, thinking hard. “They knew it would make Dom crazy, and split him and Xander even further apart.”

“And make Lillian happy,” Xander adds. “And put the future of the Rexford in jeopardy.” There’s only one person who would stand to gain from all of that. Dom’s eyes narrow as a slow rage washes over his beautiful face. “Blaine Prescott.” “You’re right!” I turn to Lillian, recalling the restaurant incident. “Blaine was spitting mad when you turned him down. After you left with Xander, I thought Blaine was going to breathe fire.” Her face goes pale. “He’s been asking me out forever, but I never took his interest seriously. Even when I was with Dom, he was always hanging around.” “So he probably thought that once you divorced, the field would be clear.” I think it through. “But nothing changed. And then when he saw you with Xander…” I stop. “Shit. I may have suggested that you and Xander were a thing, after you left. I thought it might help deter Blaine, but…” Dom places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “It’s not your fault. A man like that isn’t rational. He’s clearly lost his mind.” Xander looks grim. “I’ll fucking kill him.” “Even if it was him, how do we prove it? The police don’t have evidence.” Lillian asks. “Give me five minutes alone in a room with him, and he’ll talk.” Dom’s face is a mirror of his brother’s rage. “No.” I tell them both firmly. “Blaine hates you guys, and he’s crazy. You don’t know what he’ll do. He’s already tried to kill Xander, remember? I’m not having you anywhere near him.” “Then what?” Dom demands, clearly frustrated. “We need to trap him into confessing,” I say slowly. “So we can get him brought to justice the right way.” “Sure,” Lillian rolls her eyes. “He’s just going to tell us everything he’s been doing.” “Not us,” I realize. “You.” She blinks. “You’re the reason he’s been doing all of this.” I see her upset expression, and quickly add, “Not because you asked for any of it. But in his twisted mind, it’s all for you. If anyone’s going to get him to talk, it’ll be you. He probably can’t wait to brag about every evil thing he’s done.” My mind is going top speed, pulling together a plan that will take that asshole down, and hard. “Call him and make nice on an invitation for drinks at the Rexford. Tell him you’re sorry you turned him down, but you weren’t free to move on. You are now. You’re interested, and you need his help screwing Dominic over.” “No!” Dom explodes. “I’m not having anyone go near that monster alone.” “She won’t be alone,” I tell them. “We’ll be right there watching. And we’ll need some kind of recording device, to get the confession on tape…” “I know a guy,” Xander pipes up.

Dom turns on him. “You can’t seriously agree with this nonsense plan. It’s insanity.” “And so is letting Blaine walk around another day. Who knows what else he’s planning now his original scheme failed?” Xander’s lips press together determinedly. “And since I’m not much use in this hospital bed right now.” Lillian gets out her phone. Dom makes to move towards her. “Lillian, I’m ordering you—” “You don’t get to do that anymore.” Lillian scowls back. “This is my decision, and I won’t let Blaine hurt anyone else because of me.” Before Dom can stop her, Lillian dials. “Blaine, honey, how are you?” she coos, sweet as honey. “Oh, don’t be silly. I told you, it was just because my schedule was jam-packed. But I’m free for drinks tonight, if you’d like?” There’s a pause, then she throws in a little giggle. “Can’t wait. See you later!” She hangs up with a nod. “He’s in.” I look around. Tonight, it all goes down. We’re going to nail that bastard.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

E verything is ready.

We’re waiting in a limo outside the Rexford. It’s almost show time and I’m getting more nervous. What if this is a terrible plan, and I’m sending Lillian straight into danger? “Don’t look so panicked,” she says lightly, as Xander adjusts a tiny recording device hidden in her bra. He insisted on getting released from the hospital for this, but must have reached too far, because she gives his hand a light slap. “Down, boy,” she warns. He smirks. “Just making sure you’re wired right.” “Sure you are.” They’re bantering brightly, but I can tell they’re both nervous. Dom is sitting tense beside me, like he’s about to bolt from the car and slam Blaine against a wall. “Are you sure it’ll work?” Lillian asks, adjusting the wire. Xander nods. “My security guy said it was sensitive enough to pick up the barest of whispers. It’s synched into Dom’s extra cell phone, so we’ll be able to hear everything.” I cringe at the thought of Blaine Prescott getting close enough to me to whisper anything. Poor Lillian. I hope this goes fast, for her sake. I can imagine she’ll need a hot bath and some disinfectant when this is all over. “Okay, remember to speak clearly.” Dominic reminds her. “Act interested, but not too interested. We don’t want him—” “For crying out loud, Dominic,” she says sweetly, running a finger down the front of his shirt. “I know how to seduce a man, remember?” There’s silence. My chest constricts. “Whoops,” she gives me a wink. “Sorry, honey. He’s all yours.” She grabs her purse and slides out of the limo. Her embroidered blue top is breezy, effectively showing off her spectacular breasts while hiding any sign of the wire. Prescott won’t be able to stay away from her, luckily for us. We wait a moment, then Dominic and I slip inside and sit in the shadows in the back of the room. There’s a risk Blaine will see us, but Dom wouldn’t take the chance of leaving Lillian alone with him. Lillian is at the bar, waiting. Blaine enters.

We see him talking to her, but can’t hear anything. “Damn it,” Dom scowls. “Why isn’t the mic working?” He looks like he’s about to bolt over there. “Give her a second.” Suddenly, the app on his phone lights up and scratchy audio starts to play. Blaine’s smarmy voice comes through. “Oh my God, you look ah-mazing.” “Of course I do, but thank you,” she quips lightly. “How’s life at the Prescott group? Tell me it’s not as dull as over here. God, all these meetings. It could drive a girl crazy.” Blaine chuckles. “I let other people do the boring work. It’s called delegating.” “You’re so smart. Honestly, I don’t know why Dom runs around when he could just sit back and cash the checks like you.” I start to relax. “She knows how to handle him.” “Lillian always had a gift for wrapping men around her little finger.” There’s a faint note of bitterness in Dom’s voice. I look over. He exhales. “It’s in the past,” he says, smiling at me. He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. “Everything worked out the way it was supposed to, my love.” My heart leaps to hear him say it. “You mean aside from the crazy stalker guy trying to get us killed,” I point out, smiling. He chuckles. “Aside from that.” Dom’s cell phone rings, and he curses when he sees the number. “It’s the Paris financial officer. I’ve been expecting his call.” He pauses, looking back at Lillian and Blaine. They’re still at the bar, and Lillian is flirting up a storm. “And did you see Bunny and Bex in Aspen last year?” “Take it,” I tell him. “They’ll be a while.” “OK. Just keep listening in and call me if something goes down.” He exits the bar through the back door, and I turn my attention back to Lillian and Blaine. He’s leaning so close to her that I can hear his heavy breathing coming through the wire. Barf. To her credit, Lillian lets him practically drool on her. “I saw Xander at the hospital today,” she says. Blaine coughs. “He said the brakes were cut on his little sports car. Honestly, I’m a little sad that someone beat me to it.” What is she doing? She’s not supposed to push him like this! “Really?” His voice is neutral, but I detect a spark of interest. Lillian plays it up by tapping his arm with her finger. “I thought I’d be satisfied when I took Dominic’s shares from him. But then Xander showed up, and I know it’s only a matter of time before I have competition.” “I thought you and Xander were a thing?” She laughs. “Please. He’s inconvenient. Both the Rexfords are, wouldn’t you agree?” I’m fuming over here. She’s supposed to be subtle, not so obvious! What if

Blaine figures out this is a ruse? “Sure, they’re annoying, but I’ll crush them both in time.” Blaine isn’t taking the bait. Lillian leans in closer. “I know you sent me the video of Dominic fucking that little intern.” Holy shit! She’s going for the jugular. Panic curls up inside me, and I desperately wish Dominic would get back. What if she tips Blaine off, if she makes him suspicious? “Admit it, and let me thank you properly,” Lillian coos. Oh no. Here comes the seductive charm. Blaine takes both her wrists in his hands and moves so their knees are touching. She looks slightly alarmed, but recovers with a sugar-coated smile. “When I’m done thanking you, we can talk about getting rid of Xander for good this time.” “Upstairs.” Blaine slides off his stool. “Let’s continue this conversation in private.” “You got a room?” He’s so close to her now, she’s probably drowning in his nasty cologne. “There’s only one way I imagined this evening ending, Lillian. Of course I got a room.” Ugh. Lillian gently pulls her hands away from him and remains seated. “It’s a shame to waste good scotch. Would you like another?” There’s a razor-sharp pause. I imagine the doubt going through Blaine’s head, and we haven’t gotten anything we can use for evidence. “What’s going on here, Lillian?” I hear her short, quick breath. She knows, too. Setting down her glass, she smiles tightly and glances my way. My heart flips twice at the pleading in her expression. No, Lillian. Don’t! “On second thought, a room sounds great.” She loops her hand through his arm. “Lead the way.” She’s not supposed to leave. I’m torn between finding Dom and following her. In a split second, I decide. I need to see which room they are going into, and then I’ll call Dominic. I get up and sneak from the shadows. I follow at a distance until I see them approach an elevator. The lobby is mostly deserted, so I maneuver behind the sixfoot potted ferns and peek out. The elevator opens and they step in. But instead of going up, they go down. To the basement. Something’s wrong. Shit. I pull out my cellphone and try to call Dom as I hurry to the other elevator and stab the call button. It’s all the way at the top floor, there’s no time to wait. Damn it! I take the stairs instead, hurrying down. Voicemail. “Pick up, Dom! They’re heading for the basement!” I hang up and try again, but this time I just get beeps. No reception. I can’t stop now, not with Lillian alone with Blaine. I keep heading down into the

depths of the stairwell. Finally I reach the door to the basement garage and yank it open. “He gets everything he wants.” I hear Blaine’s voice from somewhere inside “Not this time. I’m winning this one!” The parking garage is dim and it takes me a second to adjust my eyes. I spot Blaine pulling Lillian toward a car a few rows away. I crouch down to stay out of sight and creep after them. I have no idea what I’m going to do once I get closer, but I can’t let Lillian out of my sight. “I think you’re taking this too far, Blaine.” Her voice shakes. She’s scared. “You know I want to help. Just bring the car up from the basement. I’ll wait for you inside—” “I’ve waited for you long enough!” Blaine suddenly grabs Lillian and slams her backwards into a car. She cries out in pain. “You never noticed me, did you? You were so obsessed with Dominic!” “Please, Blaine, get hold of yourself.” Lillian’s trying her best to keep it together. “Just calm down, and we can talk about this. Over a romantic dinner—” “Bullshit!” Blaine yells. “Don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing. You’re toying with me, just like you’ve kept those Rexford idiots dangling. Well, I’m not going to fall for it anymore. I should have cut Xander’s brakes myself!” He slaps her across the face, hard. Lillian reels back in shock. I panic. He’s losing it. Even from across the parking garage, I can see his crazed expression. We didn’t plan for this, and now Lillian is right in harm’s way. Think. I force myself to stay calm. I look around. We’re alone in the basement. If I tried to run for help, he might spook and hurt Lillian more. And if he gets her in a car, he could take her anywhere. Do anything. But what can I do to help? I start peering in car windows, still out of sight. I need something to use as a weapon, anything to stop him before it’s too late. Finally, just a few cars away from them, I see a toolbox on the backseat, and beside it, a tire iron. Yes! I try the door, and almost cry out in relief when it opens. Thank God. I reach inside and grab the tire iron, all the while listening to Blaine raving, totally out of his mind now. “You think I don’t know you’re all laughing at me?” he yells, as Lillian cowers. He’s gripping her arm so tightly she can’t get away. “You and Dom and Xander, you always had everything, and you never let me in. Well, we’ll see who’s laughing when I take the Rexford. I’ll kill you, and Xander. I’ll take everything Dom ever loved, until he has nothing!” I take a deep breath and start to edge closer. I creep out from the parked cars and approach Blaine from behind. If I can just get close enough— But I’m still six feet away when Lillian’s eyes go wide. She’s seen me, and she doesn’t cover quickly enough. Blaine whirls around. There’s no time. He shoves Lillian aside and lunges toward me as I raise the tire iron and swing with everything

I have. CRACK. The iron catches him on the shoulder. He stumbles with a pained grunt, but it’s not enough. He lunges for me again. Lillian leaps up and grabs his shirt as he comes towards me, but he throws her down and she hits the concrete with a cry of pain. “Who the fuck are you?” Blaine demands, breathing heavily. “Oh yeah, the latest whore. Still think your precious Dom is worth all of this?” “He’s ten times the man you’ll ever be,” I spit back, wielding the tire iron. I’m trying to be brave, but I’m terrified. Blaine is bigger than me, and stronger – and he’s got a wild look in his eyes. He’s not thinking straight right now. Suddenly, Blaine lunges again with a savage cry. I try to swing, but I’m not fast enough. He grabs the tire iron from my hands and yanks it away. Then he’s on me, barreling me to the ground. I struggle, but he’s too big. He gets his hands around my neck, squeezing hard. I flail, trying to escape. He’s crushing my throat. I can’t breathe! I grab Blaine’s wrists, struggling as my lungs burn for air. He won’t move. I can’t do this. Things are just getting hazy, when I hear a loud yell. Blaine is yanked off me, and air fills my lungs in a cool rush. I struggle upright, reeling, in time to see Dom slam Blaine’s face in a fierce right-hook. Blaine falls to the ground, but Dom doesn’t stop. He hits him hard, over and over, until Blaine’s face is a broken mess of blood and bone. “Stop!” I manage to gasp, pulling Dom back. “That’s enough.” Dom freezes, panting heavily. “It’s over,” I tell him, seeing Lillian sitting up against a car. Even after everything, she’s smoothing down her hair and checking her makeup. She’ll be OK. “It’s all over now.” He holds me close. I hear sirens in the distance as I sink against him, his arms tight around me like he’s never letting go.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I t turns out that the one thing we needed to turn the Rexford around was a huge,

juicy scandal. The press was all over the story before the cops had finished hauling Blaine Prescott away. His black and blue face made the cover of every newspaper in town, busted lip and all. By the next morning, we were fully booked, with a waiting list a mile long. The Rexford is back in business. I want to get back to work ASAP, but Dom won’t hear of it. “You need to recover and rest up,” he insists the next night, when I meet him at the hotel. “I can rest at work. At my desk,” I protest, laughing as he guides me through the lobby. “Now, are you going to tell me what this surprise is all about?” “If I did, then it wouldn’t be a surprise.” Dom winks as he hustles me into an elevator. I kiss him the minute the doors close, savoring the feel of him against my body. I expect him to take me to his suite, but instead, when we get off on the top floor, he takes me to a stairwell, and up another level. “I don’t think I’ve ever been up here,” I say, looking around. “Just wait.” Dom leads me down a narrow hallway. We’re under the eaves of the rafters here. “They used to house the servants up here,” he tells me. “Now it’s all storage. Almost all.” He stops at a door at the end of the hall, and unlocks it with an old-fashioned key. The door swings open, and I gasp. “Dom!” I step inside, not believing my eyes. The small room is like a time capsule from the past: rich brocade drapes, an antique rug, and a massive four-poster bed made with fresh linens. But it’s the view that takes my breath away: all of the city spread before us out of the window, twinkling like jewels. “I don’t understand. I thought I’d seen all the guest rooms. This isn’t on any of the manifests.”

Dom smiles. “I’ve been having it restored as a special surprise. A secret. Off the books. Just for us.” “Us?” I’m overwhelmed. I can’t believe he found a way to create a secret hideaway for the two of us right here in the hotel. “Do you want a drink?” Dom asks. “I have champagne, chocolates, everything your heart could desire.” “I only want one thing,” I tell him, bold. “You.” Dom pauses, and I see the lust flare in his eyes. “Take off your clothes and let me look at you.” The dominant tone of his voice makes my stomach twist. I shiver, and do as he says: slowly stripping off my dress and heels until I’m standing naked in my bra and panties. Dom slowly circles me. “God,” he says, his voice thick with lust. “From the moment I first saw you… Nobody else has this power over me. Only you.” My nipples harden. My thighs clench. I’m already wet, waiting to feel his touch, hear his wicked commands. “Are you ready for me?” he growls. I nod. “Show me,” he demands. “I want to see you touch yourself.” My legs go weak, but I manage to stay in place. Slowly, teasingly, I begin to stroke my breasts and bare stomach. I hold his gaze, showing him just how much I want him. I tug my panties down, kicking them aside. I stroke my clit and moan softly, and Dom’s jaw tightens. “How do you want it?” he asks roughly. “Do you want my hands on you, my fingers inside you? My tongue fucking your sweet cunt?” Oh God, he’s so hot. I could melt in a puddle, but I stand firm and shake my head. Dom arches an eyebrow, looking amused. “Say it.” I bite my lip, flushing. “I want your cock.” “Where?” Dom smirks. He’s close enough to touch, but the distance between us is electric. “Inside me,” I gasp. “Deep. Please, Dom. I need you.” “Then ride me.” Dominic yanks his pants down and sits back on the bed. “Ride my dick and take me as deep as you want.” Fuck yes. I don’t need to be told twice. His cock is standing erect, so thick and ready for me, but I want to make him wait too – tease him, just a little. I drop to my knees and take him in my mouth. “Fuck!” Dom groans as I take him all the way, lost in the texture and taste of him on my tongue. Sucking, sliding and caressing with my mouth, I drive him crazy, right the way to the brink, just the way he’s tormented me. Then I rise to my feet. He looks like he could devour me right now.

Good. I playfully push him back on the bed, then straddle him, positioning myself over his gorgeous cock. Then I sink down in one blissful movement, all the way, taking him right to the hilt. Fuck. I arch, grinding against him. He feels so good inside, every fucking inch. Dom grabs my hips as I move, helping me glide up and down until I’ve found a fast, incredible rhythm. Tilting his hips, he angles his cock to hit just right, sending shocks through my clit with each thrust. Fast. Hard. More. His hips slam up into me, thrusting deeper than ever. Fuck. I can’t hold back, it’s too good. I come screaming his name, an epic orgasm that shatters me into a thousand pieces, convulsing so hard I feel his own climax rip from his body. We collapse back on the bed, breathing hard. “Wow,” I gasp. “I’m liking this room already.” He chuckles. “Any time you like, my darling. Just say the word. Always.” The word lingers between us with new meaning. I turn to look at him, my heart suddenly beating faster in my chest. “Always?” I echo, not wanting to hope. “Forever.” Dom says, and I can see it in his eyes, he means it. Happiness floods through me. “Yes,” I whisper. “Forever.”

THE END WANT more of my alpha heroes and sexy stories? Read on for a sneak peek of my new book, SCANDALOUS (A Filthy Office Romance).

Also from Lola Darling… SCANDALOUS: A FILTHY OFFICE ROMANCE Max Davis is cocky, gorgeous, and has every woman in the office dropping her panties – including me. As much as he drives me up the wall, I can’t stop fantasizing about him pushing me against it, too. Hard. But my new co-worker is definitely off-limits. So our flirty little game is going to get us both in trouble. Thing is, I’m pretty sure it would be worth it. AVAILABLE NOW!

CHAPTER ONE Chloe "One more round everybody, just stick with me!" I tuck my hips and rest my hands on them, elbows sticking out in my best imitation of the toned and tanned woman on my flatscreen TV. When Suzie Steel does this move, she looks like a rockstar posing in front of her adoring fans. Me? I'm rocking more what looks like an awkward chicken dance. This is why I don't go to the gym. I'll stick to embarrassing myself in the private of my own home, thanks. "Knees bent, remember, and stick that butt out. Now, we're going to try a modified squat here. As you come out of each one, I want you to rotate those hips— remember, rub it in!" she calls with a gleeful smile as she demonstrates the move, which will no doubt set my ass on fire, yet looks effortless when she does it. I grit my teeth and join her in the next set. "Yes, ladies, right there. Circle those hips, rub it in good." It takes all my concentration not to burst into laughter, especially given how uncoordinated I feel to begin with. Rub it in. Yeah, okay Suzie. "Better sore than sorry!" she adds with a painfully cheerful grin as I dip into the next set of squat-stand-rotate. My thighs ache, and my ass, sure enough, burns like hell. I'm going to regret this when I have to haul said ass to work in less than an hour. Especially given the heels I’ve chosen to wear today. But hopefully, if I can keep this up for the next couple of months, I might be decently toned in time for the summer. Lazing on the beach looking even remotely as svelte, flat-stomached and sexy as Suzie Steel—despite the fact that she's at least twenty years older than me —will be totally worth it.

Right, Chloe, a little voice at the back of my head interrupts the daydream. Like you're going to have time to relax on a beach. Or anywhere, for that matter. I suck in a deep breath and hit the next squat hard, trying to force that voice out of my head. Okay, true, I've been a little overworked for the last . . . several years. And yes, last summer I basically forgot to take a vacation. And yes, I backed out of going to my best friend Heather's summer beach house not once, but three times. But this is a new year. New me. Look, I'm even rocking this whole working out thing. "Five more reps, ladies! Excuses burn zero fat per hour, remember that." I narrow my eyes at the screen and bend my knees again, my thighs shaking with effort. "I'll give you excuses, Suzie," I mutter under my breath. Okay, so rocking it is an exaggeration. More like staggering through it like an ungainly imbecile. But I’m doing it! That’s what counts, right? God, how many more days of this? “Your ass isn’t going to tone itself when you sit on it,” Suzie says, as if she heard me thinking. Damn her. “Come on, with me, last two reps now. And rock those hips, shake it out, now rub it in.” This time I really do let an unladylike snort escape as I rock my hips in motion with hers. Honestly, I love Suzie’s workouts, but the cheesy one-liners kill me at times. Maybe that’s the point? Distracting me from the hellish pain that is my ass right now? “Aaaand, done. There we go, how do you feel?” Suzie asks the screen with a painfully sincere, huge smile. I glare at her. “Like death warmed over in the microwave,” I mumble, leaning over to stretch my legs as best I can. The video leads me through a few cool-down exercises, and I follow for as long as I can before the clock catches my eye. Crap. I’m going to be late if I don’t jump in the shower now. I shut off the video with a sigh. Hmm. I do feel a little more awake than usual, though. None of that postexercise endorphin high that the girls at work talk about getting at the gym—to be honest, I’ve never experienced anything post-workout besides the crushing urge to lie in a hot tub—but I am kind of proud of myself. I woke up an extra hour early for this and everything. Today is going to be a good day, I tell myself as I step out of my sweaty yoga pants and into the warm embrace of my shower. I can just feel it. *** My brand new Louis Vuitton heels clack on the marble floor of our office as I scroll through my Blackberry, typing addendums to my schedule as needed. 9:30 a.m. – meeting with boss. 10:15 a.m. – meeting with my client. 11:20 a.m. – meeting with Cheryl from accounting to talk about invoicing issue. 12:13 p.m. – leave to hit bank in time.

12:30 p.m. – lunch with Martha—mental note: make sure to ask how her son is doing, and also if she’s had a reply about the Daniels’ case?

I’m still adding notes when I nearly stride right into the glass door of the meeting room adjacent to my boss’s office. I smooth my Armani skirt with one hand, hoping nobody in the hallway noticed that slick move, and then I push through the door into the room. Paul’s not here yet, which is good. Tardiness is one of his personal pet peeves, so I always try to arrive at least a couple minutes ahead of schedule for our catch-ups. Which is why I’m surprised when, after five minutes of me shuffling the files I’ve brought with me around, there’s still no sign of him emerging from his office. I check the delicate gold watch around my wrist subtly. Or so I think. “Hope I’m not detaining you from anything more important,” my boss’s familiar voice interrupts just as I look at the watch. Most people would freak out to hear him say that—Paul Greaves has a way of setting even the company partners on edge, and not just because his father founded his law firm fifty-some years ago. But I’ve worked alongside him long enough by now to know his moods. He’s not annoyed. There’s an almost playful smile hanging on his mouth, which is mostly hidden behind an XL cup of Starbucks. “Just worried you might have triggered the apocalypse is all. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this late,” I reply, a hint of teasing in my voice, considering it’s only two minutes past the hour. “Yes, I believe the end is nigh. My end, anyway, if this morning’s headache is anything to go by.” I frown. “Are you feeling okay? We can reschedule if you’d like; I have an opening tomorrow morning, or—” Paul waves an impatient hand in my direction. “Good lord, you sound like my daughter. I’m fine, it’s just a headache. Nothing a few mugs of this won’t cure.” He hefts his Starbucks with another smile, though this time, now that I’m watching closely, I can see the faint wince behind it. I chew on the inside of my lip, where he won’t be able to see. To be honest, Paul worries me sometimes. He doesn’t take care of himself, and he’s not exactly a spring chicken anymore. He’s been a close friend and mentor to me ever since I set foot in this company and he took me under his wing—I’d hate to see anything bad happen because he’s too distracted with work to worry about his own health. But I can tell that pestering him about it right now won’t get us anywhere. So I flip open the file on top of my stack instead. “Right, so, the Daniels’ case,” I say, one hand unconsciously reaching to readjust my glasses as I read. Each of my files for the case are neatly stacked, labeled with color-coded sticky notes, and organized in alphabetical order. “I’ve got a few things I wanted to go over with you, if that’s all right? I had a question about the court report from—”

“Chloe.” I pause and blink at him. First the being late, then the headaches, now the interrupting me? Normally with Paul, the best approach to take is to get straight down to business. No small-talk, no waiting for him to take the reins. He appreciates an employee who is forthright, and who comes into a meeting with their own agenda. Something seems off today. More than just his mood. “Yes, Paul?” I try to keep the note of trepidation from my voice. My stomach tightens. This is an unfamiliar sensation for me. I’m always onpoint—work is the one thing in my life that’s completely, totally, perfectly on track. There’s already been whispers around the office that the reason Paul likes me so much, meets with me so often, even though he has at least 5 other direct reports, is because he’s grooming me to take his place. It’ll be a couple years yet, before he’s ready to retire and a new spot for a partner opens up, but I’m only thirty now. If I could make partner before I even hit my mid-30s . . . Except. Now he’s frowning at me. “I’m moving you off of the Daniels’ case. Please compile your notes and pass them over to Rich this afternoon.” The floor drops out from under me. It’s hard, for half a second, to catch my breath. Luckily I’m quick at recovering. “Can I ask why?” You can hardly even hear the tremor in my voice, I tell myself. There’s no way he can tell that my throat is closing in on itself. Not at all. I’ve spent the better part of three months on the Daniels’ case. I’ve done everything by the book, made all the right calls, kept everything shipshape. We’re almost ready to go to trial next month, and I might even have been able to push up the court date the way the client wanted. And now— “Because I need you working on something bigger right now.” I pause mid-mental-freak-out. Er . . . What? I pause to take a slow breath—at least he’s not mad at me—but even with that long pause I still can’t think of anything more poised to say. “What?” I ask, feeling stupid. “Don’t worry,” he says with a hint of a knowing grin in his eye. Dammit. I guess my freak-out was that transparent. “It’s a good thing. This is a high-profile case. We need our best people on it. I would have taken it myself, except I’m still tied up with Murphy. This is the kind of case that can really prove to the partners how dedicated and poised some of our middle managers are. The kind of case that can point out who might be . . . well. Partner material, some day.” My heart skips a full beat in my chest, I swear to god. I can practically hear the blood swimming in my ears, trying to keep up with the stutter. Yes, I’ve suspected Paul might be grooming me before. But he never actually comes out and says it—he never says anything, really. He plays his hand close to the chest, and he’s taught me to do the same. If he’s saying this now, revealing the partner-potential card, he has a reason. I might not understand it yet, but . . . “Sounds like I’ll love it,” I hear myself saying, before I even have time to think it over. Who cares what the case is? I’ve tackled so many in my years here, I’m

confident I can handle anything he throws at me. “I think you will.” He nods. “There’s just one small thing.” I hardly even register the hesitation in his tone anymore. I’m too far gone. Too far ahead in mentally planning how I’m going to own this case—whatever the heck it is. I’ll pull double-time, work weekends, I don’t care. I’ll do whatever it takes to knock this one out of the park. These make-or-break career opportunities only come around a couple times in a lifetime, and at times like those, you need to just push everything else out of your way, knuckle down and work your butt off until you win. “Due to the, ah . . . very public nature of this case, and the fact that it will likely attract at least some media attention—and due to the fact that, as I said, we won’t be able to have a partner on the case directly—we would like to really make sure that every angle is considered, every potential taken into consideration. We feel it would be best to have as many experienced, trusted eyes on this as possible, so with that in mind—oh, here we are.” I blink, startled at the sound of the office doors clicking open again behind me. I spin around in my chair, and frown in confusion at the man standing just inside the glass doors now. I know Max Davis, of course. Resident cocky asshole, bent on singlehandedly seducing our entire female staff. Everyone in the office knows all about Max fucking Davis, and his various sexcapades. Yes, plenty of people sneak around the non-fraternization policy we have here, but he makes a damn contest of it, I swear. If there’s a single woman in this company he hasn’t banged or tried to bang, I’ll eat my shoe. Hell, he tried to get me to fall for his shit when he first started. Thank God I make it a policy never to mix business and pleasure. It doesn’t help that he’s ridiculously, stupidly, unfairly good-looking. Hudson Pierce good-looking. Even right now, at 9:45am on a Monday, he’s got effortlessly tousled black hair falling just far enough into his dark green eyes that it makes it seem like he doesn’t try to look this hot at all, it just sort of happens. Ugh. I’m still staring at him in confusion as Paul keeps speaking behind me. “We would like the two of you to partner on this case.” Say what now? the part of my brain not distracted by warring sensations of disgust for and attraction to Max. “You two are the most promising young litigators we have here at Greaves, Morrell and Stuyvesant, and all three of us are confident that you will bring two differing, but equally important work styles and views to this case. Really, it’s a perfect partnership, I think.” Oh hell no. No, I am not sharing this case—this make-or-break, could land me on the partnership track case—with Max Davis. He’s the last person I would want to co-host a general office meeting with, let alone work on a case that could change my entire career. But Max just stands there, smiling at Paul—no, at me, his eyes are on me now, and fucking hell, those have to be contacts, right? Nobody’s eyes are that green,

like shards of emerald got trapped in his irises. “I can’t wait to get started,” he says, and just like that, I feel doom closing in on me.

Chapter Two Max It’s not like I’m any more thrilled about this assignment than she is, but Chloe MacIntyre could at least pretend not to utterly loathe the idea of working with me on this. I’m not sure whether to find it irritating or flattering—I honestly thought the girl had a better poker face than this. She’s a shark in the courtroom, all fire and fury. Not gonna lie, the one time I watched her speak, I had to sit hunched over the whole time. Something about her soft, supple curves, combined with that fierce mouth of hers makes the blood rush to my cock every time. Anthony Stuyvesant, my boss slash mentor slash personal torturer here at the firm insisted on sending me to watch every single one of my colleagues litigate over the course of a year. Of everyone I watched speak, Chloe was the most memorable. She had a way of twisting every eye in the room to her—and not even in a sexual way. Yes, she was drop-dead gorgeous, and between her petite yet striking frame—at a guess, perfect B-cups, a tight ass, and shapely legs, made even shapelier by those heels she insists on wearing every single day—her sharp hazel eyes and her head full of riotous blonde curls, I’m sure she gets people staring at her on the regular for more reasons than one. Not to mention the dark-framed glasses she wears, which amp up the sexy librarian vibes by about a thousand. But in the courtroom? She has a whole other level of energy. Every word out of her mouth is calculated, precision-honed to pierce its target for maximum effect. On the street she’s the kind of girl you’d hit on, then limp home after being shut down, but in court, she’s goddamn terrifying. I have no problem admitting that. Unfortunately, it also makes her pretty judgmental of the rest of us mere mortals. The first week after I watched her litigate, I asked her out for a beer after work, mostly to pick her brain, look for pointers on my own game. To say that she shot me down would be putting it lightly. She basically verbally eviscerated me. So, okay, some part of me is enjoying watching the disbelief and dismay war on her face as I pull out the chair beside her and plunk myself down across from Paul Greaves. Turnabout is fair play. The moment I sit down, she scoots her chair as far from mine as possible. Paul’s still busy with digging around in his papers for some files, so I wheel my chair a little closer to hers. “I don’t bite, you know,” I murmur, low enough that only she can hear. “That’s not what I’ve heard,” she responds without even a glance in my direction.

I lift an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” “Oh I don’t. But in your case, the evidence is rather overwhelming.” Her lips twist into a moue of distaste. Fucking hell, she’s hot when she’s angry. It makes me want to piss her off more often. It also makes me take a deep breath. Any more of that death glaring from her and I’ll get hard right here. “Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?” I ask. Before she can reply, Paul finally withdraws the papers he’s been looking for and slides them across the table to us. “I’ve put together some basic details on the case,” he says. Chloe pulls herself together enough to stop glaring daggers at me and picks up her copy of the file instead. I page through mine, though truth be told, I already have the details. Anthony gave me a heads-up in our catch-up this morning, about an hour before he sent me over here. This should be an interesting one. “The client is Suzie Steel.” Chloe’s eyes go wide. “The Suzie Steel? From the exercise videos.” “That’s her.” Paul nods. “The one with all the catch phrases. You know, shake it out and—” “Rub it in,” Chloe supplies with a sarcastic smirk. I can’t help it. I bark out a low laugh at that one. It only earns me an even narrower glare from Chloe this time. “Actually, that’s what the lawsuit is about,” Paul says, interrupting what was shaping up to be a pretty interesting staring contest. I think it’s the glasses. Even when she’s scowling Chloe looks hotter than anyone I’ve ever laid eyes on. Or maybe I just think of hot librarians when she scowls at me. Please, Chloe, tell me what you want me to do to you. “Suzie trademarked that saying when she first launched her videos back in ’95. But now there’s a new company that’s just started up, selling, ah, what’s it called . . .” Paul rifles through his copy of the case document. “The Rotator,” I supply without a glance at my own files. After all, I spent the last hour researching it. “Not the most creative name ever. It’s basically just a chair with a weight system attached. It’s supposed to work out your hip flexors and your obliques when you, well . . .” I cast a sideways glance at Chloe before I rock my hips around the office chair to demonstrate. “Rub it in.” Her eye-roll is so strong it practically registers on the Richter scale. “Figures you’d be familiar with that.” “Hey, these washboard abs won’t maintain themselves.” I pat my stomach. Even Paul laughs at that, though I notice he quickly tries to hide it by taking another gulp from his coffee cup. “Calm down, Gym Tan Laundry,” Chloe mutters. “Okay, so they’re using a saying that’s too similar to hers, is that the problem?” Her eyes flash back to Paul, to the case at hand.

She’s no fun. “Part of the problem, yes. They released a commercial with a voiceover using that line, read by an older woman, smoky voice—she sounds an awful lot like Suzie, to be honest. But Suzie insists it’s not her. She never gave the company permission to use her tagline, either.” Chloe purses her lips thoughtfully. “So this new company is trying to play off of her brand. Make it look like she endorsed them.” “Precisely.” “It doesn’t help that the machine doesn’t look all that safe, either,” I add. “I watched a couple videos of it this morning. I can see what Ms. Steel means, when she said she wouldn’t suggest her followers use something like that. Just a little too much weight, and you could really strain your lower back muscles if you don’t know what you’re doing.” Chloe’s eyes flash at me again, like she’s annoyed. I can’t imagine about what this time. She pushes the glasses farther up her nose, and I fight sudden urges to tear them off her face. No. Actually. Leave the glasses on. Just tear everything else off of her . . . “So, what do you think, Chloe?” Paul asks, and she snaps to attention. I raise an eyebrow. Anthony doesn’t talk to me like that. Of course, Anthony has a very different management . . . ah, style, shall we say, than Paul does. He’s more of the Here’s what you’re doing, if you don’t like it, get the hell out of my firm type of boss. Chloe scans the case file in front of her. A single lock of her long, curly hair falls over her shoulder as she does, brushing across the page. I have to fight a sudden, inexplicable urge to brush it out of her way. Actually, more than that, I want to catch all her long hair in my fist, turn her toward me again, see that glare on her perfectly sculpted face as I lean over her and . . . Shit. What the hell, Davis? You don’t have time for this right now. Almost like she heard that thought, Chloe steals a peek in my direction. “It’s interesting, that’s for sure. And I can see why you want us to keep a close eye on it,” she says. “Suzie’s still a pretty big public figure. She’s been on a couple of talk shows lately, and there’s some buzz about her releasing a new training regimen for older women this year, too. This case could attract a lot of media coverage.” “My thoughts exactly.” Paul nods. “But I’m confident that the two of you can handle this one. After all, two heads are better than one, no?” He flashes me a wide, friendly smile. It’s weird—I’m used to seeing him act all aggressive and temperamental in meetings. Chloe must bring out his softer side. “I’ve managed dozens of big name clients,” I reply, grinning, even as I can sense Chloe’s eyes rolling once more. “Suzie Steel is in safe hands with me.” “With us,” Chloe interjects. “Right. That’s what I meant.” I wink at her, and her cheeks flush. Angry, blushing librarian, even better. “Great.” Paul claps his hands. “Well, I’ve got to be off to my next meeting—I’ll

leave you two to get acquainted with the case for now. And each other, of course.” The moment the door to Paul’s office clicks shut behind him, Chloe levels her gaze on me again. Ouch. If looks could maim. “So you had time to watch those videos first,” she says, her voice low and sarcastic. “It’s good to know you come prepared.” Ah, I see. She’s irritated that I’ve got a head start on her already. “Don’t worry. I always come prepared for anything.” “I’m sure you do when it comes to, say, avoiding contracting gonorrhea. But this case is huge for me, so you’re going to let me do the preparation from here on out, got it?” Fat chance, sweetheart. “That’s not really how I roll, Chloe. I’m very hands on.” “Yes, well I’d prefer that you keep your hands off, in this case.” She glances down at my hands where they’re resting on the table, as if they’ve personally offended her. I fold my hands in an exaggerated move, drawing them back off the table as though to say, See, don’t worry, I won’t touch you. Even though there’s nothing in the world I want to do more right now. “Look, we’re going to have to work together whether you like it or not, Chloe. You might as well enjoy it.” She raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you tell all the ladies?” “Only the shy ones. I’d promise you I’ll be gentle, but you don’t seem like the shy type, to be honest . . . .” Chloe’s gaze narrows even farther, accentuated by the sharp, dark frames of her glasses. “Thanks, but I prefer to drive rather than riding the company bike.” I smirk. “You know, I hear slut-shaming is out of style these days.” “Funny, I heard the same thing about hooking up with your secretary.” It takes an effort not to crack a grin at that one. Touché. I shake my head a little. “Rumors are like cockroaches. Where you see one, there’s at least a thousand more lurking right behind it.” “So what you’re saying is, for every one I’ve heard, there’s thousands more I haven’t? Good to know.” She peers over the top of her glasses at me almost thoughtfully. “Let me just mentally do the math on how much worse you look right now, hang on . . .” “If you’re done discussing my personal life, could we get back to work here? I thought I was meant to be the bad influence, y’know?” Her eyes dart to the clock on the wall. “I have a meeting with a previous client in ten minutes. I’ll need to meet with them, then find Rich to brief him on us swapping projects, and go through handover notes with him this afternoon . . .” She trails off and snatches up her Blackberry to swipe through it. I try not to focus too much on the way she gets this little pout of concentration on her lower lip as she’s reading, or the way that piece of hair falls across her face again. Pull your shit together, Davis. For all the rumors about me, I’m really not an STD-riddled pickup artist. I just happen to be very popular around the office, that’s

all. Mostly with my female colleagues. It’s not like I encourage the attention. Much. Besides, it’s harmless fun. But Chloe . . . I’m not sure if it’s the way she so obviously, openly despises me, or the fact that I’ve seen her speak in court and I know how smart she is, or if it’s just those fucking librarian glasses. For some reason, she affects me differently. She makes me want to prove all the rumors true. I zone back in on her perfect, plump red lips forming words. Sentences. Fuck. Pay attention. Stop thinking about those pert lips wrapped around your cock, man. “Fifteen-minute window tomorrow afternoon, 4:25. Does that work for you?” “I really think we’re going to need more than 15 minutes to cover the preliminaries on this one.” “I’ll book in a longer meeting in a couple of days. For now, fifteen minutes is all you get, so you’d better prove that you were right about your preparation skills.” “My preparation—and my follow-through, I might add—are just fine.” She lifts a single eyebrow over the rim of her glasses. “Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.” I grin and scoot my chair a little closer to hers. “Well, actions speak louder than words. If you’d like, I’d be happy to prove just how good my follow-through is.” To my surprise, she leans in too, close enough that I catch a whiff of the perfume she’s wearing. Something delicate, probably expensive as hell. Sweet and a little spicy. It makes me want to taste her, run my tongue over her naked body to see if it matches her flavor. “Please do,” she purrs, and it takes every ounce of restraint I possess not to close the gap between us and claim her mouth right here and now. She’s leaning closer, I could make a move . . . Then she slaps my chest with a file, which I catch belatedly, slow on the uptake after my short, moment of weakness. “In the courtroom, that is.” She’s already pushing away from the desk and standing up. Her tight pencil skirt has ridden up her thighs, and I catch a glimpse of the tops of her stockings, before she yanks the skirt back into place, all the way down to her knees. Dammit. Cut-off stockings and garters? Who knew our sweet little Chloe had a kinky side? I suppress a smirk as I meet her eye. “I’m going to need more than fifteen minutes eventually, you know.” She glares at me again, which either means she caught me checking her out, or just that this is her favorite facial expression. “That’s good. If you finished in fifteen minutes every time, I’d have to call that less than impressive.” With that, she sweeps out of the room, leaving me torn between a laugh and a scowl. This might be an even tougher case than I thought. Mostly because watching her curvy, luscious ass storm out of the room makes me hard as a rock. I try to force her out of my mind for the rest of the afternoon, but it’s no use. I’m pretty much useless with how distracted she’s made me. To the point where I catch the elevator down to the second floor, lock myself in an empty

conference room, and jerk off, leaning against the table, wishing it was her I had pressed against the wood instead. Fucking hell, I think as I come, my mind still full of images of her—eyes narrowed behind those sexy glasses, full lips pursed in distrust. I haven’t been this turned on at the office since I can’t remember when. It’s gonna be a long couple of months.

Chapter Three Chloe I pace across the kitchen floor in my stockings, the ridiculous ones with the garter belt, because everything else I own was out with the laundry people today. I’m still wearing my work shirt, though it’s unbuttoned over my bra, but I tossed my skirt into a heap on my couch the moment I walked through the front door. Not like there’s anyone here to impress or offend anyway. “And that’s not even the worst part,” I say into the phone, which I have awkwardly cradled between my ear and my shoulder as I yank open the freezer and dig through it for the pint of Ben and Jerry’s I know I still have somewhere in here. I’d prepped a whole series of meals for the week, which I cook on Sundays and freeze for defrosting other nights. But screw it. Tonight, I’m having Americone Dream for dinner. “Worse than being taken off the case you’ve spent like two months straight on?” asks the voice on the other end of the line. Heather Healey, my best friend in the world. Well, okay. Possibly my only friend right now, since I all but fell out of touch with Sheri, Ang and their squad. But it’s not like I had time to go to all the brunches and soccer games and shopping spree trips they’re into anyway. I’m not the biggest social person around. And I have to focus on my career right now. Especially with so much happening for me. “So much worse.” I pull out the Ben and Jerry’s with a triumphant hah, and kick the fridge door shut with one stockinged foot. “You remember that one creep I told you about? The one who’s slept with like, half the office at this point?” “Ben the slutty intern?” I laugh. “No, he’s long gone. The other one. Max Davis. The one who’s Stuyvesant’s chosen favorite, gets first pick on all the best cases usually?” “Not ringing a bell, sorry Chlo. I can’t always keep your work frenemies straight, you know, when they change every other week.” I pull open a drawer and fish out a spoon. “No, you remember this one. He asked me out one time, for a beer after work? Right after I heard from Martha that he’s dating Melanie what’s her name from rights management?” “Ohhhh, God, that guy? Ugh, yes, I remember. There’s dipping your pen in the company ink, and then there’s trying to double dip.”

“Talk about shitting where you eat,” I agree as I stab my spoon heartily into the ice cream container. Screw bowls. Again, it’s not like there’s anyone else here for me to impress or offend. “Anyway, they’re putting me on a new case. Big, highprofile one.” “That sounds like good news?” Heather says, and I hear the tentative note in her voice as she waits for the But. “I’m paired with him on it.” I scoop out a healthy serving, and stuff a mouthful onto my tongue as Heather makes all kinds of indignant groaning noises on the other end of the line. The vanilla and fudge flavors melt together on my tongue, somewhat ameliorating my terrible mood. However, I probably took too big a bite, because the cold starts to pool against the roof of my mouth and sends tendrils of pain shooting into my forehead. Ugh. Brain freeze. I keep eating the ice cream anyway, wincing as I do. “How much say are you going to have? I mean . . . okay, so he’s a manwhore and a bit of a creep. But you said he’s Stuyvesant’s favorite, right? Kind of like how you’re Paul’s fave? So maybe he’s a good lawyer, even if he’s a shitty person. You can stick it out for one case, right?” Trust Heather to always look on the bright side. She has a point, though. For as notoriously judgmental, aggressive and condescending as Anthony Stuyvesant is, any protégé of his must at least be competent in the courtroom. “True. It’s just . . . ugh, this is going to be a long one, I can already feel it. I spent all afternoon buried in the files. I’m just not loving the fact that not only will I have to work overtime and weekends for yet another month, I’ll have to do most of it with someone I don’t like.” “For a month? Really?” There’s a new note in Heather’s voice now. Hurt. I blink a few times. Shit. What have I forgotten now? “Yes, probably. I mean, I’m just guessing. I guess it depends on how the case goes. Why?” Her voice goes small and quiet. “Did you forget about our plans on the twentieth?” I chew on the corner of my lip, even as I whip my Blackberry from my purse. “Of course I didn’t forget,” I say, speaking slowly to stall for time as I scroll frantically through my calendar. “I know that voice, Chloe MacIntyre,” Heather snaps. “That’s the I’m doublechecking right now voice.” “It is not!” I protest. Aha. Twentieth to the twenty-first. Shit. Weekend away at the spa Heather found a coupon for. It was supposed to be our impromptu girl retreat. Nails, hair, massages, facials, the works. Plus, they have a Jacuzzi thing with all these salt crystals or something that was supposed to feel like heaven floating around in. “I was really looking forward to the spa weekend. I mean, I am really looking forward to it, assuming I can finish enough of the case by then to—” “Ugh. Forget it. Why do I even bother, Chlo? Honestly. It’s like being friends with a robot. No, not even a robot—I’m pretty sure even robots power down for a

couple hours at a time. Do you even remember the last time we had a conversation in person, face-to-face?” “Of course I do. We went for drinks at that rooftop bar, and the cute waiter hit on you.” “That was four months ago, Chloe. Did you know that? Four months. I live less than a twenty-minute drive from you. That’s weird, okay?” “It’s been a really hectic few months,” I mumble halfheartedly. “As soon as things calm down a little—” “Things are never going to calm down. Not until you make them. You need to start prioritizing your life, too. Not just your career path.” I bite back an easy for you to say. Because that’s not fair. Heather doesn’t want the same kinds of things that I do. She’s happy to run her flower shop, spend her days arranging bouquets for weddings, and take as much time off as she wants to travel, explore, eat out, go on dates. Sometimes I wish I could be more like her. But every night when I close my eyes, I can still picture Mom’s place. The crappy closet of an apartment she was stuck in. The ramen noodles she lived on, except when I forced better food on her during a visit. I need to avoid that. I need to do better. That’s my job. Being the practical one. I thought Heather and I could bridge the gap between our lives, but maybe we’re just too different. Sometimes lately, I’ve started to wonder. I guess she’s been wondering too. “Heather, I’m sorry that it’s been so long since we hung out,” I say. She cuts me off. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. Don’t say it’ll change. It never does. Call me when you’ve decided I’m worth something, okay?” With that, the call disconnects, and I’m left standing barefoot and alone in the middle of my huge, expensive, gorgeous kitchen, holding a spoonful of slowly melting ice cream over a tub that’s freezing the fingers off my hand. I click the phone off, toss it on the counter, and pace out into my living room. Normally, this apartment makes me happy. It’s a constant reminder of how far I’ve come, and everything I’ve managed to make out of my life. The hardwood floors, high ceilings, and leather furniture strewn with cozy fur blankets and comforters is everything I used to dream about as a kid, watching home decorating shows on my parents’ crappy black-and-white TV, in our rundown living room that converted to my bedroom at night, since we could only afford a one-bedroom place. Now, the TV takes up my entire wall above the fireplace, and I can totally immerse myself in any movies or shows I choose to watch. When I have time to. Which, admittedly, is pretty much never. I sigh and cross the room to slump onto my couch. Out the window to my left, the lights of San Francisco sparkle in the distance. But in here, I keep the lights off, and my head buried in the pint of ice cream. Ice cream that I need more than ever tonight, even though, after that phone call, it’s pretty much lost all its flavor for me.

What am I doing with myself? But I already know the answer to that. I’m building a better life. A better future than my mom’s. No matter what it takes. To be continued… Want to know how the story goes? SCANDALOUS is available now!

Love alpha heroes and sexy romance reads? Discover The Temptation Duet by Roxy Sloane! Available now. From USA Today bestselling author Roxy Sloane comes a filthy, seductive new duet. Spare panties and extra batteries definitely required! I’ve never fucked a woman who didn’t lie. Not to me. When I’m grinding eight inches deep up against your G-spot, you can bet you won’t have the mind to remember your own name. No, I’m talking about the next guy. And everyone who’s unlucky enough to come after me. “That’s right, baby. You’re the best.” “Nobody’s ever gone so deep.” And this one, the classic. The biggest fucking whopper to ever cross a woman’s lips: “Size doesn’t matter. It’s what you do with it that counts.” Right, love. Say that again with a straight face once I’ve stretched you so wide, you’re begging me to stop and screaming for more, all in the same goddamn breath. Go on, I dare you. We’ve all got our secrets, but it just happens to be my job to figure yours out. I’m the best in the business, and I never back down. But this case is different. This girl is different. I don’t just want her secrets. I want everything.

1 JASE

I ’ve never fucked a woman who didn’t lie.

Not to me. When I’m grinding eight inches deep up against your G-spot, you can bet you won’t have the mind to remember your own name. No, I’m talking about the next guy. And everyone who’s unlucky enough to come after me. “That’s right, baby. You’re the best.” “Nobody’s ever gone so deep.” And this one, the classic. The biggest fucking whopper to ever cross a woman’s lips: “It’s OK. Size doesn’t matter. It’s what you do with it that counts.” Right, love. Say that again with a straight face once I’ve stretched you so wide, you’re begging me to stop and screaming for more, all in the same goddamn breath. Go on, I dare you. So yeah, all women lie. I don’t hold it against you, because men do it, too. We’ve all got our secrets, but it just happens to be my job to figure yours out. Like this girl. I met her at the bar ten minutes ago, licking martini olives like she wanted me imagining her wet mouth wrapped around my cock. Mission accomplished. Now she’s braced against the wall in the alley outside with her skirt shoved up around her waist and my cock pounding into her hard from behind. “Don’t stop. Oh God, please don’t stop!” She’s grinding back against me, out of control with my hand rubbing her clit just right and the other gripping one of those juicy tits to keep the pace. “Harder,” the girl begs, her face crushed against the wall. “Fuck me hard!” With pleasure. I pound relentlessly, sending her body crashing into the wall with the impact of my thrusts. But she just moans and begs for more. I knew from the minute I laid eyes on her she needed it rough and dirty. It’s why I took that seat beside her, over every other hot, willing woman in the bar. Sure, I could have had any one of them on their knees in a heartbeat, sucking me off like their life depended on it. Or maybe two of them back at my place, for a little three-way action. Double the

pussy, double the fun. But one look at this girl, and I knew all her deepest, darkest secrets. She wants to feel it, every last thrust. And lucky for her, I’m in the mood to fuck. “You like that, baby?” I fist her hair and yank hard, arching her body back to meet me. All she can do is whimper, but she doesn’t need to say a word. Her clenching cunt is all the answer I need. Besides, that sweet mouth has done nothing but lie since the moment we met. She said she was a student at the college nearby, just having a fun night out with friends. She thinks I didn’t notice the pale band of skin on her wedding finger, or that happy couple background pic on her phone. She’s wrong. I notice everything. I see right through you. It’s what I do. Like how she spread her legs for me right here where anyone could see, because she wouldn’t dare take me home. How her body is grinding, desperate, because whatever flaccid little prick he’s been prodding her with for God knows how long doesn’t do it right. Not even close. And this—yeah, this, fuck—the way she’s convulsing around my cock like she’s having some kind of seizure? This tells me she’ll never have it this good again. Every other climax, every other cock for the rest of her life, she’ll be picturing me right now, and how I tore her goddamn pussy apart. “Yes! OHMYGOD. YES!” She comes, screaming so loud someone’s going to call the cops, but I don’t care. I slam into her faster, my balls tight and ready, so fucking ready. I’m gripping her hips so hard, she’ll need to explain those bruises in the morning, but that isn’t my problem. Nothing is, except the friction of her tight pussy and the slide of her wetness and fuck, yeah, that clenching, vice-like grip of her climax, milking me out. I’m close now, right on the fucking edge— One more thrust and then I suddenly pull away. I spin her around and push her to her knees, burying all eight throbbing inches into that wet, open mouth. Fuck yeah. She chokes around me in surprise, but now she’s got the message. Sucking me hard. Taking me deep. That tight friction of her throat is all I need: I come like a fucking tsunami, unleashing a torrent of hot cum gushing right down her throat. Goddamn. I growl with the release, feeling it crash over me. And bless her lying, cheating heart, but this girl swallows down every last drop, her eyes glazed with shock and lust and oh yeah, the best goddamn orgasm she’ll ever know. That’s how you do it, darlin’. That’s what you’ll never get from him. And that’s why one of these days, he’s going to be walking through the doors of my PI agency, hiring me to figure out why his sweet young wife is sneaking around on him.

I can’t hold it against her. All women lie. They just lie better on their backs.

2 CHLOE

I learned a long time ago that honesty’s the best policy.

Even if you think a little white lie isn’t going to hurt anyone, think again. Before you know it, that tiny fib has spiraled out of control, and you’re in way deeper than if you’d just been up front to begin with. I like things simple and clear-cut—which is why I never expected to wind up working in real estate. I mean, realtors? We’re one step above used-car salesmen when it comes to bending the truth. At least, that’s the way my boss likes to play it . . . “It’s such a quiet building, no street noise at all.” Marcie smiles brightly, even as a garbage truck rolls past, honking and beeping so loud, you can hardly hear a word. “And the Boston school district is excellent. You can’t think about these things too soon!” The happy couple at our big open house seems unsure. We’re in a warehouse district with nothing but old buildings and storage units around. “Is it a safe neighborhood?” they ask me, looking concerned. I pause, reluctant. “Well . . .” Marcie jumps in. “Absolutely! Super-safe, and tons of things in walking distance.” Still, the woman isn’t convinced. “What do you think, Chloe?” she asks me again. “You’ve been helping us look for a while now. I know this isn’t what we asked for, but maybe we need to think outside the box?” I gulp. Marcie’s standing right there, and she’s told me flat out we need this apartment to sell ASAP, but I can’t exactly pretend that a massive industrial loft space is the family home of their dreams. “I say trust your gut,” I finally tell them. “Buying a place is a huge decision. If you’re not one hundred percent in love with it, then keep looking.” The couple relaxes. “OK, then this one isn’t for us,” the husband says. He hands the brochure back to Marcie. “Let us know if anything else comes up.” “Sure!” Marcie ushers them out, all smiles, but the minute they’re out of the door, she turns on me with a scowl. “What the hell was that? You’re supposed to be helping sell this place, not undermining everything I say!”

“I didn’t!” I protest. “You’re always telling clients to trust their gut.” “Only when I know they really want to buy!” Marcie rolls her eyes. “Or if it’s out of their price range, and I need them to throw out the budget! Honestly, Chloe, you need to learn if you’re going to move up in this business.” “But I don’t want to lie to them.” Marcie laughs, like I just made a joke. “It’s not lying, we’re just . . . massaging the truth. Highlighting the good points. A neighborhood isn’t noisy, it’s vibrant. A house isn’t run-down, it’s got potential.” She sees a new group of people arrive, and brightens again. “Go make sure everyone signs in. And get another batch of cookies in the oven!” I head over to the front table and make sure to greet everyone cheerfully before heading to the kitchen area. I’ve been working for Fortune & Adler for two years now, a small family agency here in Boston. It was a lucky break to get a job at all: nobody’s exactly lining up to hire a failed ex-ballerina. Without a college degree, it was hard enough just getting through the door for an assistant gig answering phones and fetching Marcie’s lunch. But I worked around the clock for her, then bust my butt studying to get my real estate license. Now, finally, I’m a junior agent —although most days it doesn’t seem all that different, still running at Marcie’s beck and call. “A beautiful woman who bakes, it’s my lucky day.” I look up and almost drop the sheet of cookies I’m pulling from the oven. There’s a guy standing just inches away from me. A hot, drop-dead sexy vision of a man. He’s got blue eyes and close-cropped dark hair, towering over me with a muscular boxer’s build even though I stand almost six feet in my heels. His face isn’t classically handsome, it’s almost brutish with the angle of an old broken nose, but there’s an animal physicality radiating from his body that makes me blink a moment, lost for words. Wow. “Hi,” I finally say, feeling guilty for even thinking it. “Are you, umm, here for the open house?” “That’s right, love.” If the eyes and the body and that sexy grin weren’t enough, he’s got a British accent, too. Rough around the edges, not crisp and upper-crust. “Jase Banner. Pleasure to meet you.” He leans in closer and gives me a wink. “And if I play my cards right, it’ll be your pleasure, too.” I put the cookie sheet down with a clatter. “Chloe,” I manage to answer, and pull off the oven mitt. Jase whistles. “I take it back. Who’s the lucky man?” I look down. Fifteen carats wink back at me, a massive pear-shaped diamond surrounded by a dozen smaller stones. I told my fiancé I wasn’t comfortable wearing anything so flashy—or valuable—but he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. “His name’s Max,” I say, relieved. “Maxwell Mainwaring.”

Jase smirks. “Well, that explains it.” I blush. The Mainwaring’s are one of the oldest and wealthiest families in Boston. They have museum rooms and hospital wings named after them, and as the heir to the fortune, Max gets written up in the society pages all the time. Of course, I didn’t know any of that when we first met. It wasn’t until the third date, when he picked me up in a vintage Aston Martin and took me out for a picnic on his private yacht that I realized I was in way over my head. It’s been a whirlwind from day one; he proposed on our three-month anniversary, and even looking at his ring on my finger, it doesn’t really feel real. “When’s the big day?” Jase asks. He grabs a cookie and blows on it to cool. “Not until next year,” I reply. “We just got engaged, and there’s a lot to plan.” “Big society to-do, huh?” I nod, my heart sinking just at the thought. “I wish we could just elope,” I find myself confiding. “But it’s important to his family. They have traditions.” “Like the rock,” Jase says. I look up, surprised. “How did you know?” He chuckles. “Simple, sweetheart, it’s not your style.” Jase strolls closer, “You’re not flashy or hungry for attention. You’re simple. Elegant. Beautiful.” He fixes those blue eyes on me, and suddenly, I feel my heart beating faster. I quickly back away. “Can I show you the apartment?” I blurt, my voice sounding weirdly high-pitched. Jase smiles, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Why not?” “It’s a converted warehouse space, lots of light, great open space . . .” I babble my way through the listing, showing him around. And even though I’ve done nothing wrong, I can’t help feeling guilty every time I register how his vintage Tshirt pulls across the thick curve of his biceps . . . or how the muscles in his back ripple under the thin fabric when he reaches up to test the window frame. His body is incredible, coiled with raw animal power. I wonder how it would feel, pressing me into the mattress . . . Hold it right there. What are you doing, drooling over a complete stranger? You’re engaged to the man of your dreams! I push the thought away and try to focus on the job right in front of me. We finish the circuit of the main floor and wind up by the front door again. “Have you been apartment-hunting for long?” I do my best to sound professional—and not like I’ve been scoping out his ass. Jase shrugs. “Off and on. I get bored, stuck in one place for too long. I like to keep things interesting.” “And what are you really looking for?” I ask. “Well,” Jase smirks. “You already know I like sexy brunettes who bake.” I flush. “I meant the apartment.” He chuckles. “I know you did, sweetheart.” For once in my life, I wish Marcie would interrupt, but she’s latched onto a wealthy-looking trust-fund kid with his parents in tow, and I know she’s already

counting her commission. “Are you going to take me to bed?” My head snaps back around. Jase is waiting. “The bedroom,” he says, looking amused. “Is it up those stairs?” “Oh. Yes.” I look over. The master suite is set back on a mezzanine level, away from the main space. Totally private. “You should go ahead and look around yourself,” I tell him briskly. “I need to stay here to greet clients.” He looks surprised. “You’re not going to come sell me on the place?” “Nope.” I shrug. “Either you like it or you don’t.” He laughs. “Blunt. I like it. And I agree,” he adds. “No point messing around when I already know what I want. It’s just a shame she’s off the market.” He looks at me again, the kind of smirking, sexy stare that makes it clear what he’s talking about—and exactly what he’d do to me if he had the chance. I flush. “Thanks for coming out,” I say. “Marcie’s details are on the brochure, you should call her if you have any questions.” “What about your number?” he asks, teasing. I cross my arms. “You won’t be needing it.” “Don’t be so sure.” Jase leans in, close enough for me to feel his breath, hot on my cheek. “Maybe I like getting caught with my hand in the cookie jar.” Before I can react, his hand slides over my hip—and reaches to grab another cookie from the plate. He steps back, gives me a wink, and then he’s gone, leaving me flushed and my pulse racing there beside the door. Bad Chloe. Bad, bad girl.

3 JASE

Some people guard their secrets, but Chloe Archer is an open book. Twenty

minutes with that girl tells me everything I need to know: She’s gorgeous, sexy, and damn, does she need a good fuck. It was a surprise to walk through the door and find such an irresistible package. Teasing brown eyes, a sweet mouth made to suck cock, and legs that go to heaven and back. I could tell by the way she was watching me she was just picturing what I could do with those slim thighs spread wide open—or better yet, wrapped around my shoulders as I show her just how a real man likes to eat pussy. All. Day. Long. So why am I heading back to my office alone, without so much as her phone number? Any other girl would have fallen over herself to press her digits into my palm—her body, too. Hell, most women would have found us an empty storage closet and gone at it right there, not caring if anyone walked in and saw them coming their sweet brains out. And fuck that ring on her finger, too. In my long, hard experience, that doesn’t make a blind bit of difference—especially when they’re looking at me like a prime cut of steak when they’ve been on a diet too long. Except Chloe. I was surprised, I haven’t had a woman shut me down like that since, well, never. No flirting, no hiding the ring, either. And sure, she looked, but everything about her screamed “hands off.” So is she really in love with this Max guy? Nah. More likely she’s got her eye on the prize, and those fifteen carats on her finger are just the beginning. The minute there’s a gold band joining it, she’s got her hooks into a slice of the Mainwaring fortune worth millions. No wonder she thinks a quick fuck isn’t worth the price. She just doesn’t know yet: with me, it would be. BACK AT MY OFFICE, I’ve barely gotten the door unlocked before the girls from next door appear in the hallway. “Hi Jase,” they chorus, looking hot and sweaty in tiny Lycra

booty shorts. Yeah, setting up shop next door to a yoga studio has its perks. “Molly, Jules, how’s it going, ladies?” “Awesome. But you look kind of tense.” Molly comes closer. She reaches up on tiptoes to massage my shoulders. “When are we going to get you into a class?” “Hot yoga,” Jules agrees. “Your body sweats all the toxins right out.” “No thanks, love. The only time I break a sweat is in the boxing ring.” Or in bed. I’m still imagining Chloe’s lithe body twisting up in a pretzel and could use the release. But I know better than to shit where I eat, and as sexy as these girls are, I’m not in the market for morning-after drama, not when there’s work to be done. “You should stop by anyway.” Jules winks. “You can watch.” I laugh. “Don’t tempt me, darlin’.” They head back to their studio, and I get inside. My office used to be a tailor’s shop, a real old-world guy from Italy, so I pretty much left it be. Two rooms, private and dark, just the way I like it. Today, I’ve got emails waiting, and wouldn’t you know? They’re all about my new case. Mrs. Mainwaring-to-be. You came highly recommended, but I’m not seeing results. I tried calling you twice today, what have you found? Call me! I hit delete. Someone’s getting antsy. I don’t know who’s behind the anonymous email account—or the fat retainer—but whoever they are, they want dirt on Chloe Archer, and fast. They said it was just a regular background check, but it’s clear from the daily demands there’s nothing regular about it. I’d bet good money one of those posh Mainwarings isn’t so thrilled about Maxwell’s whirlwind romance, and want to check out the skeletons in Chloe’s closet before she says “I do.” I don’t care. It’s not my job to worry about what my clients are going to do with all the dirty little secrets I uncover. I’m here to get in, get paid, and get out. No mess. No drama. And even though I’ve yet to hit pay-dirt on Chloe, I know it won’t be long. Everyone’s got something to hide, no matter how innocent they seem. You’ve just got to know where to look. For this one, I need to dig a little deeper than usual, so I go meet my mate Logan down at his local—a rowdy Irish bar just down the block. We met years ago at a boxing gym here in town, and it’s my version of a beautiful friendship: we beat the shit out of each other, then go get pissed on a few pints. And the fact he’s a cop helps, too. He slips me information from the police networks, and I help him out sometimes through less . . . official channels. “What have you got for me?” Logan demands the minute I make it through the doors. It’s packed and rowdy, even early, and there’s already a group of women making eyes at him down the bar.

“Is that any way to greet an old pal?” “Yeah, yeah.” Logan rolls his eyes and gestures to the old bartender for a couple of pints. Not that designer bottled bullshit, no, I’m talking good old Irish bitter, thick enough to stand on its own. He slides me a glass and waits while I take a long drink. “Well?” “Easy, pretty boy.” I send a wink to the blonde girl leaning over the bar so far, it’s a wonder she hasn’t toppled right over. I’ve got a clean view down the front of her dress spilling a pair of lush, pillowy tits out of red lace. Hello. “C’mon, Jase. You know I’m in a bind.” “Alright, mate.” I drag my attention back. The blonde will wait—until closing time, at least. Then me, my cock, and those breasts are going to have ourselves some fun. Logan is still looking impatient so I pull a crumpled sheet of paper from my back pocket. “Happy now?” “Ecstatic.” Logan scans the page, then breaks out in a smile. “Where the fuck do you find this stuff? This’ll nail the asshole for sure.” I give a shrug. Logan’s been trying to throw the book at some wife-beating piece of shit all year now, but the guy’s slippery as a well-oiled pussy. He’s kept his rep clean, got a whole list of character references swearing up and down he’s never so much as laid a hand on the missus, and meanwhile, she’s in and out of the ER every month, too scared to ever press charges. My dad used to pull the same shit—beating my mum black and blue until I got old enough to stand my ground. I can’t tolerate it, so I did some digging, and found a couple of dodgy accounts and some off-shore holdings. He thought he’d hidden them deep enough. He was wrong. “Tax fraud.” Logan shakes his head. “It’s not the point, but I’ll take it.” “Hey, it worked for Al Capone. I already sent it to my guy at the IRS.” “You have a guy at the IRS?” “Girl, actually. And she’s a real ball-breaker, too. I told her about our little friend, and she’s ready to tear his life apart and smile as he begs for mercy. Auditors.” I raise my glass in a toast. “You don’t want to fuck with them.” That’s something I learned in the ring: sometimes the best hit is the one they don’t see coming. I could have paid this guy a visit and shown him what happens when you pick on someone weaker, but men like that cry “lawyer” at the smallest thing. Better to destroy him in a way that won’t blow back on her. “I owe you, buddy,” Logan says, tucking the paper away. “Let me know if you need anything.” There’s my cue. “There is this one case. I’ve done the usual diligence, but she’s coming up clean.” “Cheating wife?” Logan knows my bread-and-butter business. I shake my head. “Nah, she blew me off. And if she’s getting it elsewhere, she

would never have passed up the chance.” Logan snorts. “How you walk around with that ego dragging you down, I’ll never know.” “That’s not my ego, it’s my balls.” He groans. “C’mon, dude.” “She will.” I make eye contact with the blonde again—or, more accurately, ten inches below her eyes. What I could do with those lush tits . . . Logan snaps his fingers. “Focus. You wanted a favor?” “Chloe Archer,” I tell him. “Background, record check, see what you can find. She moved here from Chicago, used to be a ballerina, far as I can tell.” Logan types a note in his phone. “I’ll make some calls.” “She seems pretty innocent, but I don’t know, I get a vibe from this girl.” “Not enough, though.” Logan grins. “The great Jase Banner, striking out. How does it feel?” “I’ll live.” I drain my pint. The blonde is on her way over now, and I’ve got some time before my next appointment. Long enough to leave an autograph on those breasts, at least. And I’m not talking about my name. “Call me when you get a hit. She’s hiding something, I can tell.” To be continued… Want to read more? TEMPT ME and TEASE ME are available now!

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