His to Love (Fireside #1) - Stacey Lynn

His to Love is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. A Loveswept Ebook Original Copyright © 2016 by Stacey Lynn Excerpt from His to Protect by Stacey Lynn copyright © 2016 by Stacey Lynn All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New Y ork. LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC. This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book His to Protect by Stacey Lynn. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition. ebook ISBN 9781101967959 Cover design: Caroline Teagle Cover photograph: © Lorado/iStock randomhousebooks.com v4.1 ep

Contents Title Page Copyright

Prologue 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 Epilogue Dedication Acknowledgments By Stacey Lynn About the Author The Editor’s Corner

Excerpt from His to Protect

Prologue Tyson My shoulders stiffened and my hands rolled into fists. The senior agent to the Underground Crime Protection Unit was speaking to me, but I couldn’t pull my eyes off the photos he’d just carelessly tossed on the desk between us. His words rolled like thunder through my ears and my head began to pound. Gabriella Bluejay Galecki. Long shiny black hair hung past breasts that were larger than I remembered. She had curves that would make men crave running their hands down them, taking in every dip on her frame. Hips that would make a man want to dig his fingers and thumbs into them while he took her from behind. Light blue eyes that were as mesmerizing as I remembered, except they looked much emptier. Time had been good to her. She looked more stunning now than she did the last time I saw her, sitting on my bed in my teenage bedroom, telling me she’d love me forever. Telling me that the distance between the colleges we were going to be attending, me at Central U in Michigan, her at some private ritzy college in Detroit, wouldn’t matter. Her family wouldn’t matter. We’d be one of the lucky couples from high school that lasted. One of the few couples that stood the test of time and college frat parties. Then the next day, she disappeared. I hadn’t seen a photo of her since I quit carrying her senior picture in my wallet halfway through my sophomore year of college, when I finally realized she wasn’t coming back. For years, I had tried not to think of her as anything more than a passing memory. A blank space in the trenches of my mind, accessed only when I would wonder what happened to her whenever her father’s name and her family came up during conversations and investigations regarding racketeering and illegal gambling. All it took was one glimpse of her on a three-by-five-inch photo and I remembered everything about her. Everything about the way I felt about her. Right then, Agent Jackson was asking the impossible. “Agent Blackwell. Are you listening to me?” I nodded, spoke some sort of affirmative, all with my eyes glued to Blue’s bright red full lips. Beautiful. Physically, she was perfect. It was her eyes and the sad, slightly downturned tilt to her lips that made my brows pull together.

“You’re making a quick stop in Denver and then headed home, Blackwell.” I flexed my fingers, straightening them, and slid them into the pockets of my black suit pants. Looking up at my supervisor, a man I respected for the last four years, ever since I joined the FBI, I shook my head once. No way could I do this. “I’m not sure I’m the man for this job.” It was as honest as I could be. Just by looking at Blue’s photos, I knew there was no way I could maintain a professional distance while doing my job. A job I loved. And this mission was too close to my heart. It meant using my ex-girlfriend, the only woman I’d told I loved and meant it. That Agent Jackson thought I could do this and not cross inappropriate boundaries showed he had more faith in me than I did. “You’re the only who can do this job,” he stated, his expression firm. I ran my tongue along the front of my teeth, sucking in my anger and frustration. When my professional mask was in place, I arched a brow. “I’m too close.” “No.” He shook his head and tossed me a file. I already knew what was in it. “You’re the only one of us who can get close enough.” The FBI knew of my connection with Gabriella Galecki. That knowledge was found during background checks they did on all candidates wishing to enroll in the academy. I just never thought that connection would be used against me in this way. My lips twisted as he continued speaking. “As you already know, the Detroit family has been able to remain successful and stable because they’re small and they keep their alliances within the family. Gabriella Galecki is coming home, and the only reason we can assume she’s making her presence known after a decade-long disappearance is because her family needs her. We need to know why, and you’re the person who can figure that out.” “With all due respect, sir—” “With all due respect, Agent Blackwell, I am your superior and the Bureau needs you for this. You’ll do as you’re told and get us the information we need so we can tighten our investigation and finally take down the Galecki family.” “Why her?” I asked, my voice suddenly parched. “Why now?” He tapped the file sitting on the desk. “That’s what we need you to figure out. Inside you’ll find all the information regarding the investigation we’ve been doing on the Galeckis, but something is still missing. We’ve been hearing chatter about their enemies in Boston and Chicago moving in on their territory. We need to know why they’re suddenly seen as weak. We need to know why Gabriella is being brought home in the midst of all this, and what role, if any, she plays in her family’s business. It could be nothing. It could be everything. That’s what you need to figure out.” A weight pressed against my chest. Gabriella had never known anything of substance regarding her family. There’s no way she would now, not if she was the same. But people could change a lot in ten years. I sure as hell had. I opened my mouth to speak but Agent Jackson cut me off. “You’ll do this, Blackwell. We have no other option to get close to the family right now.” Fuck. I had lost and I knew it.

I didn’t have a choice. Being an FBI Agent, one frequently pulled into undercover investigations, had been a goal of mine since I joined the Bureau. When a knee injury in the final football game of my senior year effectively ended any dreams of making the NFL, dreams I’d had since I could walk, I chose the one profession where I could do the most good. I could join an organization that worked at taking down crime families like the one responsible for the death of my dad. The familiar anger started simmering in my veins. My dad had been a good man, a man committed to his job and his family, until a member of the Galecki organization took him out. I would never forget the officers who showed up at our doorstep after midnight on a Tuesday. My mom screamed and wailed—sounds I remembered vividly, because they sounded nothing like those a human should ever make. She crumpled to the floor in despair, and stayed there long after my father’s co-workers and brothers in the Detroit Police Department left our house after hours of trying to console us. “What’s my cover?” I finally asked, sliding the files off Agent Jackson’s desk and into my hands. I would look at them later in my apartment when I had a glass of scotch close to me. Or the bottle. I had a feeling I was going to need it. I hadn’t been home to Detroit since college graduation. There was only one person who could have dragged me back there. Agent Jackson wanted me to do the impossible—put myself face-to-face with her, insinuate myself into her life… And then betray her in the worst way possible.

Chapter 1 Gabriella “Last call for flight 2105. Your flight is boarding now.” “Crap,” I muttered, hurrying through the airport terminal. “Sorry!” I called as I passed a woman. I was pretty sure I’d run over her foot. Or her small child, judging by the size of the bump my suitcase hit. I didn’t have time to stop and find out which. When I reached the correct gate, I rushed up to the attendant and handed her my boarding pass with shaky fingers. Breathing heavily, feeling sweat trickle down the back of my neck, I brushed a strand of my black hair out of my face. The attendant checked my boarding pass and frowned at me, handing it back. “You just made it.” I nodded and hustled through the tunnel to the plane. My carry-on suitcase banged against my ankle as I dragged it along the cramped aisle. Whoever designed planes should have at least allowed enough space for a simple suitcase to squeeze through. I ignored the looks from the impatient first-class travelers as I glanced at my boarding pass again and groaned. 18E. The middle seat? The day couldn’t have gotten worse for me. Scanning the rows of weary and bored travelers, I searched for my row, when I was suddenly bounced backward onto the floor, landing with a loud thud on top of my carry-on. How had I missed someone standing directly in front of me? “Oh shit, are you okay?” I looked up at the tower in front of me, in the direction of the voice that spoke to me. Thor? Zeus? Adonis? He looked like some sort of dark-haired Greek god. I blinked, trying to clear my head. I had to have to been hallucinating. The Adonis tower looked slightly familiar, even if he was blurry through my startled vision. But as everything began to clear, I recognized him. Slightly tanned skin, strong jaw that held just a hint of stubble. Sparkling blue eyes framed by thick black eyelashes that…I swear I had stared into before. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped as our eyes met, and I said the one name I promised myself I would never say again. “Tyson?” He blinked rapidly and crouched down. Why was I still on the floor? Extending his hand, he said, “Blue? Holy shit.” Blue. That name. That voice. I hadn’t heard either of those in ten years. Ten long, incredibly boring years since I had left Detroit, and in the blink of an eye, my childhood crush was

kneeling before me…hovering. “Yeah,” I said lamely. Gathering whatever wits I had that hadn’t been scattered all over the plane, I placed my hand in Tyson’s. He stood, pulling me to my feet along with him. I couldn’t take my eyes off his hand. He was so warm. And strong. Larger than I remembered. Perhaps I was drunk, although I didn’t remember having any alcohol that day. Maybe the mushrooms in Aunt Eleanor’s spaghetti the night before weren’t really regular mushrooms. It wouldn’t have been the first time she made that mistake. “Did I hurt you?” That voice cut through my wondering and I shook my head. “I’m good.” Lie. My entire body felt like it was being lit up like a fireworks show. I was tingly and hot and squirmy. I was also still staring at Tyson’s hand. His fingers were perfectly manicured. Long and thick. His dark gray suit fit him perfectly. It had to be designer. Made just for him. Nothing off the rack could fit so snugly in all the right places. I swallowed slowly and dragged my eyes up his body until I met his gaze. His thick black eyebrows were pulled in so close they almost touched. Damn, he looked incredible. He caught me checking him out and smirked. Awesome. “Do you need some help?” he asked, just as the voice of the pilot came through the intercom announcing that all passengers must be seated. I felt all eyes turn to us, and I ducked my head under the shield of my long black hair. Needing to get away from him, I dragged my suitcase in front of me and then stared at the packed overhead compartments. A groan fell from my parted lips. There was no way I was getting my bag in there. “Let me help you,” he said. This time it wasn’t a question, but a demand. Yet he still sounded patient. Potentially amused. “Thanks.” I let go of the handle of my suitcase and squeezed into my seat as he shifted luggage around and my bag disappeared. There were so many things I wanted to ask him. Things I wanted to tell him. How was he? What was he doing now? Did he ever think of me? They all crashed into my brain at once, giving me the beginning twinges of a migraine. But I wanted to ask them so badly, I could taste them on the tip of my tongue. I was ready to spit them out when he slammed the overhead compartment and, without looking at me, took his seat directly across the aisle near the window. I couldn’t think of anything, couldn’t focus on anything or anyone except the man just two seats and an aisle away from me. I leaned forward, trying to catch his eye when Tyson tilted his head in my direction, too. I watched as his lips curved into a slight smirk and he said, “It’s good to see you. Enjoy your flight.” As if. Flying alone was possibly the cherry on top to my already craptastic day. “Thank you…again,” I replied quietly and buckled my belt. It was only then that I realized I was sitting between a young child in the aisle seat and a man in the window seat whose arm had clearly claimed the armrest. His eyes were closed and his breathing was heavy. At any moment, he was probably going to start snoring, and I quickly looked away.

I shivered in my seat and closed my eyes. Please don’t let me die on the plane. Please don’t let me die. Please don’t let someone throw up on me. Please don’t let me throw up on someone. I repeated my silent hopes and prayers until I felt the plane slowly roll back from the gate and the attendants began their safety spiel, which I ignored. Not because I was confident the plane wouldn’t throw me to my death from twenty thousand feet in the air, but because if the plane did crash, I had always been highly suspicious of whether the oxygen masks would actually deploy. Nothing, absolutely nothing, would be able to save me—least of all my underseat inflatable device that had to be older than my grandmother. With one hand curled over the other armrest, I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing while the plane took off. Until the plane leveled, I focused on slow inhales through my nose, exhales through my lips, and tried not to think about how much it hurt to breathe. Between my fear of flying and my sudden run-in with Tyson, my head was a mess of conflicting emotions. Terror. Anger. And was that…a little bit of lust? Because for real…the man looked incredible. So incredible I could see the outline of his well-dressed frame behind my closed lids. Someone sneezed next to me and my eyes flew open. I felt it hit my arm and jumped slightly. Turning my head, I saw the culprit staring at me. His eyes were bright green and he had a small trail of yellow snot running down his nose. Gross, gross, gross. I gagged and looked around. On the other side of the aisle, right next to Tyson, was a woman. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, her long, thin legs were tucked into a pair of jeans that must have been painted on, or sewn on, and she wore the most gorgeous, tan suede boots I’d ever seen. I wanted those boots. And she was laughing with the man who once promised to love me forever. I couldn’t tell what they were discussing, but everything inside of me wanted to reach my hand across the aisle and dig my fingernails into the forearm that was suspiciously too close to Tyson’s. I had no reason to react like that. Tyson wasn’t mine. He hadn’t been mine for ten years. And even then, I had learned one late night after being busted coming home from his place, that it was a very real possibility that I had never actually been his…not in the way I thought I was, or had wanted to be. I frowned, remembering the night I had come home from his house to find the disappointment and fury clear in my father’s eyes. It should have stopped me from wanting anything to do with Tyson ever again. Yet the rational thought didn’t quell the irrational emotion buzzing along my veins, increasing my pulse. “Is that your mom?” I asked the little boy and pointed across the aisle. He nodded and sniffed. I saw his yellow snot disappear into his nose before sliding back out. I was so going to throw up on someone. Jumping out of my seat, I climbed over him into the aisle, and tapped the woman on her

shoulder. “Excuse me,” I said politely and cheerfully. It was fake. By the sound my teeth made as they ground together, she had to know it. I didn’t care. “Would you like my seat so you can sit next to your son? He seems a bit insecure with flying.” Lie, lie, lie. The kid was currently picking his nose and wiping it on the back of the seat in front of him. And on my armrest. Ohmygod. I shuddered and turned back to her. Tyson looked up and smiled at me, humor dancing in those dark blue eyes of his. “What a great idea.” His voice rumbled through me and hit some spot deep inside. Had I looked at her, I figured both of us would look the same, with our jaws dropped to the floor at that deep timbre. “Oh, I think he’s okay…” “Mommy, I have to poop.” Bright hot pink flooded her cheeks. She didn’t look at Tyson before she unbuckled her belt and murmured, “Of course.” As she stood, she smiled at me but it didn’t reach her eyes. I shook off her annoyance at my interrupting her and Tyson. I wasn’t even thinking about him. Lie. Kids just made me nervous. Especially sick kids. “Excuse me.” Acid clung to her words as she passed me in the tiny, cramped aisle. My smile widened. “Sure.” With a huff, I plopped down in her seat—because no way was I sitting by that kid again— and quickly re-buckled. “You look like you barely survived.” “Oh…huh?” “The kid. He scares you.” A piece of my hair dropped into my eye, and I blew it out of my line of sight. “Of course not.” I tucked another piece of hair behind my other ear. Why…why, of all days, did my hair have to act like I stuck my finger in an electric socket? “You fidget when you lie. You always have. And I also know you’ve always been scared of little kids, but not why.” That knowing tone, the fact he knew so much about me when all he ever did was lie to me, made me cringe. Why did he have to be on my flight? All on a day that I was flying home, getting ready to see my father and my childhood home for the first time in ten years, and when I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t had enough time to prepare myself to see my father, or my mom for that matter. But as much as I tried to prepare myself for seeing my family, considering I’d see Tyson Blackwell again wasn’t even on my radar. I never thought I’d see him again—much less sit next to him in a cramped seat on an airplane. I snapped my head to the man sitting next to me, intent on telling him off, but words clogged inside my head and I was lost in an ocean of blue. It was his eyes, or his shirt under

his suit, or maybe it was just him. Not that he was blue. He was just… He was the most incredible-looking man I had ever seen. Straight out of a GQ photo shoot. And so far, he had seen me panting like a dog in heat, sprawled out on the floor in front of him, and possibly drooling. Fantastic. “All right,” I rasped, leaning in. He did the same, and I caught a whiff of cologne that should have been illegal for every woman’s nose. It was intoxicating. Addictive. Spicy and I didn’t know what else, I just knew I wanted to lick the taste off his neck. “Fine,” I agreed again while I tried to ignore his closeness. “Kids make me nervous, they always have. They’re always in your way. They’re fast and short and you trip over them. They’re loud, they’re messy, and they’re always…” I rubbed my fingers together and made a face, “sticky.” One side of his lips quirked up. They were sexy full lips, too, and I almost got distracted. “Sticky?” “Yes. From food or glue or snot…I don’t know. They’re just…” I shivered again. And then I shut my mouth. What kind of twenty-eight-year-old woman had an aversion to small children? But I had never spent any time around them when I was growing up, and I simply wasn’t used to them. Still, I had to have sounded like a lunatic. Tyson didn’t seem to mind. He leaned closer. His knee brushed against mine, and I had to fight not to jerk away from him. “They’re just what?” “Scary,” I hissed back, more loudly than I intended. Tyson threw his head back and laughed. It sounded like magic. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. “What other fears do you still have, Blue?” I cleared my throat. No way was I admitting all my fears to him. No way. No how. I gave him enough and he was not going to take anything from me all over again. “Just one. You share one of yours and I’ll share one of mine.” I suddenly wanted to know every single thing about Tyson that I never knew before. I grinned. I couldn’t help it. “Will you tell me the truth?” I asked, and watched something dark flash in his eyes before it disappeared. “Absolutely.” His fingers clasped together and then his index fingers came together, making a point at the top. His chin rested on them for a second. “Snakes. I hate snakes.” I scoffed. “That doesn’t count! Everyone hates snakes.” He shrugged. “There’s my one. Your turn.” His knee nudged mine and I sighed. I gave in so easily. I had always been weak around him. “Fine,” I conceded and then muttered, “Flying.” I looked down at my clasped hands, but I didn’t look away quickly enough before I saw the concern in his eyes. That sparkle of his evaporated and I felt him lean closer. His nose almost

brushed my cheek and his breath skirted across my skin. “You doing okay now, though?” A shiver rolled through my body. I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t be here, not with him. Still, I pressed my lips together and nodded. I had only two more hours on this plane. Taking off was always the worst part anyway, and I’d managed that just fine. “I’ve missed you, Blue.” A chill cascaded down my spine, and I jerked back, unprepared for the way he assaulted my senses with his light touches, deep voice, and delicious scent. I couldn’t do this. Not with him. I couldn’t lose myself in the familiarity of Tyson. Not again. I wasn’t headed home to rekindle a childhood romance. I was going home to spend time with my mom before she died. Pulling back, I looked at the seat in front of me. My body shifted away from him, and I felt him tense next to me. “Not going to talk about it?” he asked, and I frowned. “Talk about what?” Taking my chances at getting lost in all that sexiness, I slowly turned my head and faced him. Leaning closer, Tyson said, “Come on, Blue. I’m still freaking out that you’re here next to me. Ten years and you just fall into my lap…I had no idea where you went, and now we’ve got two more hours on a plane together, and we can’t talk about what happened?” “No.” My shoulders tightened. I bristled at Tyson’s shocked expression and turned back to stare at the seat in front of me. “You’re serious? Do you have any idea I looked for you? How long I went and pounded on your family’s door so I could see you? And you just left and gave me nothing? And now…still nothing?” I felt his anger increase with every word and I closed my eyes, inhaling a slow breath. Through my shock at seeing him again, seeing how handsome he’d become, I had forgotten who he was…what he did to me—but I shouldn’t have. Everything about the past snapped into my mind like a rubber band. The night my father tossed a file folder onto my bed and forced me to look at photos of the two of us together. And then he proceeded to explain to me how Simon Blackwell, Tyson’s father and a detective for the Detroit PD, had spent the previous four years investigating my father and his business dealings. When he continued to come up short with evidence, he grew desperate, threw a Hail Mary pass, and decided to use his own flesh and blood. Simon forced Tyson to date me just so he could gain any nugget of information about my family that he could get. My father had proof of Tyson’s betrayal, wrapped up in pretty glossy photos. That night, as a punishment for dating some boy behind my father’s back, sneaking off and lying for the previous year, and apparently putting my family and my father’s entire organization at risk, I was put on a plane and shipped to Colorado. “Stop, Tyson.”

His hand covered mine and his fingers wrapped around my wrist. Tugging on it, he forced me to face him. “Tell me what happened. Where you went. And how you could do that to me.” Tears burned my eyes and I quickly looked away. All the instant comfort evaporated along with the oxygen levels. “Stop this.” “Not until you start talking.” Overwhelmed with emotion, I glared at him, “Did you ever like me at all?” I watched the blood drain from his face. “What the hell?” Blood rushed to my ears and funneled my long-forgotten anger. “I loved you, and you used me. For all of it.” His head snapped back like I had slapped him. I felt like I had been punched in the gut. I hadn’t thought about this in years and it was too much. Before he could respond, I pulled my hand out of his grasp, unbuckled my seatbelt, and stood up. Then I headed toward the restroom, balancing myself on the backs of the seats while I fumbled along, my breath increasing all over again. Whoever invented planes was an asshole. Once I was done washing my hands, I hesitated before leaving the restroom. I couldn’t sit next to him. Not anymore. If I hadn’t taken the time to fully appreciate how much Tyson had changed before, I could certainly do it when I closed my eyes. He was so much…more…than the kid I used to think I was in love with. Stronger. Darker. Sexier. Tyson had only improved over the last ten years, and while I fixed my straying hair and saw my ruined mascara in the mirror, I felt like time had done the complete opposite to me. While living in Colorado and working on Aunt Eleanor’s farm had been fun, I now had pale age spots appearing just beneath my eyes from too much time in the sun and not enough sun protection. The same spots now speckled the backs of my hands. The hard work made calluses grow on previously spotless and regularly manicured hands and fingers. On the farm, and out in the country, manicures were pointless, and years ago I’d begun chewing my fingernails instead of trying to find a pair of clippers in one of Eleanor’s numerous junk drawers. I was no longer the same girl he had known. I was harder, stronger too, physically, but I had only opened my heart to one man and I never wanted to risk that again. I certainly didn’t want to do it then, either. Not with Tyson. With a long exhale, I forced myself to open the lavatory door and head back down the aisle. As soon as I got back to our row, I noticed the aisle seat was still open. Next to me, the snot-nosed kid kicked out his leg, almost hitting me in the shin. Tyson arched an eyebrow and gestured toward the seat. Whatever shock he had displayed earlier was gone behind a hard mask, daring me to sit next to him. I didn’t take it. “Excuse me,” I said to woman whose seat I had hijacked earlier. “You can have your seat back now if you’d like.” She smiled wide, fluffed her hair, and I didn’t look at Tyson when I heard him laugh again.

I would take snot-nosed kids any day of the week over Tyson Blackwell. They were much less terrifying.

Chapter 2 All my limbs trembled as I stood at the baggage claim. I could feel him staring at me. I should have been used to it. Those blue eyes had been on me for the last two hours, never once looking away from me. At one point I was certain he was going to jump out of his seat, throw the kid into his vacated one, and sit next to me. It didn’t happen. I hated that a small part of me was disappointed. “Which luggage is yours?” I jumped at his voice behind me and kept my eyes on the carousel. “I’ve got it.” “Yeah, I know. Gabriella Galecki…you’ve always got everything under control, don’t you?” Not when he was touching me, like he was doing then. His arm wrapped around my waist and he pulled me toward his chest. My back to his front…I closed my eyes and imagined the way it used to be. When I was still naïve and young and thought he hung the moon. Those days were fantastic, but I couldn’t get lost in them again. I struggled to break free from his hold when he did the dumbest thing. His lips pressed against the side of my neck. It shot a spark of fire straight inside of me, hitting the best places, and I froze. “What are you doing?” I asked, hating the breathlessness in my voice. Darn him! Ugh! “Just wondering if that was where your button still is.” He stepped back, let go of my waist, and I steadied myself before I fell forward. “What are you talking about?” I glared at him over my shoulder. Big mistake. Huge. He was too damn sexy for his own good. God must hate me. He smirked and pointed to the spot on my neck, right above my collarbone where his lips just brushed. “Your ‘on’ button…the one that made you go all wild for me.” Yes. Yes…that button. It still worked if the pulsing at the apex of my thighs was any indicator. Although, it might have just been him, too. I scowled. “Leave me alone.” “Not until you talk to me.” His eyes narrowed and darkened. “Ten years, Blue. I deserve an answer.” I looked back at the carousel and spied my seafoam green luggage. It was pretty, lightcolored, and made traveling more fun. I took a step forward and reached for it when his hand covered mine. Before I could protest, Tyson grabbed the largest bag, yanking it up easily. I went slack-jawed, watching how even through his suit coat, I could see his biceps flex before he set it down. I was too stunned stupid to thank him.

“That the only one you have?” I shook my head. “One more.” I wanted to kick my own ass. Why was I engaging him? Letting him help me? Nothing good would come from this, I knew it. I didn’t even understand why he was bothering. He turned his back to me, and we waited among the throng of tired travelers. He quickly grabbed his own two bags before he nestled my last two suitcases quite nicely next to his. “Thank you,” I finally muttered, my manners returning while I reached to stack my cases. “It was good seeing you.” Another lie. My Catholic guilt was building every moment around him. Lust. Lies. Jealousy. My mother’s priest would have been so proud. Without giving me time to argue or get away, Tyson reached for the handle of my largest suitcase. He had a duffel bag thrown across his chest, my suitcase in one hand, and his in another. He started walking away from me, out toward the line of taxis, and by the time I realized what he was doing, I had to run to catch up to him, pulling the rest of my bags behind me. “What are you doing?” I asked when I reached him. He let go of his suitcase and lifted his hand. “Tyson!” I snapped. His eyes darted to me before he looked back at the line of taxis coming our way. He didn’t even look at me like he recognized me, and I couldn’t quite place why that stung so much. It took thirty seconds of him ignoring me, while I stood there gaping at him, before a taxi stopped in front of us. As soon as the trunk popped open, Tyson moved to the back of the car, and tossed my luggage inside. “Where are you going, Blue?” he asked, an arrogant grin on his face as he passed me on the curb and grabbed his own suitcase. “Not anywhere with you.” I crossed my arms over my chest and tapped my foot repeatedly on the pavement. Had he always been a bossy asshole? I couldn’t remember. Maybe I was too young to know any different. “Get in the cab.” My nose twitched, my foot tapped harder. “No.” His lips curved at the ends right as the taxi driver asked, “Where to?” Horns honked in the background, the sounds of annoyed drivers who were pissed we were not getting in the car. We were holding up the line, but I didn’t care. This was asinine. Stupid. “Not getting in the car without you,” Tyson said, a wicked gleam in his dark blue eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring my stance, except his smile told me he found this funny. There was nothing funny about this. “Lady, I gotta get moving,” the cab driver shouted in his thickly accented, Middle Eastern voice.

I had lost. I knew it. Besides, it wasn’t this man’s fault that I happened to know the most conceited man in Detroit, possibly all of the state. Or world. “Fine,” I huffed and pushed past Tyson. Sliding into the backseat of the car, I quickly told the driver the hotel where I was staying and the address. Tyson slid in next to me, victory plastered all over his cocky face. As the taxi pulled away from the curb, I felt the burn of tears in my eyes, and I looked out the window. I would never let him see how much he affected me. There was too much at stake with my family right now for me to have anything to do with Tyson. Not that I wanted something to happen, anyway. Lie. Argh. I pressed my head against the window, closed my eyes, and spent the next thirty minutes ignoring the man next to me. — “You’re kidding me.” Tyson grinned. “Nope.” I stared at him in the lobby of the Apollonio Hotel and felt my eyes cross. “You are not staying here.” He shrugged. It was full of nonchalance and cocky swagger. My fingers itched to smack him. To grab him by the lapels of his suit and shove my lips against his just to wipe the smirk off his face. Bad idea. Bad, bad, bad idea. I needed a drink. Or twelve. “Told you before…I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what happened. And, what that tantrum on the plane was about.” I ran my fingers across my forehead and sighed. “Can’t we just…I don’t know…not talk about that? Or just pretend we don’t know each other?” He slowly shook his head back and forth. Determination heated his eyes, and I hated this. Being too close to him was dangerous. Telling him the truth was worse. It took me years to get over Tyson. Being stuck on a farm in the middle-of-nowhere, Colorado, didn’t help give me other things to think about. Besides my aunt’s goats and chickens, I’d had no one to talk to. No one to help me forget about the boy who had broken my heart. “Tyson,” I started and he cut me off. “Just a drink, Blue. Let’s get caught up then. I wasn’t lying when I said I missed you.” He missed me. Something fluttered low in my stomach. A small grin stretched my lips even though I knew this was stupid. “Then will you leave me alone?” His lips twitched, as if the question was plain old silly. He also didn’t answer. No, the new cocky and arrogant Tyson spun on his heels and headed to the check-in counter. I hustled after him. He could put my luggage in his room and hold it hostage. Based on the

way he’d been behaving, I wouldn’t put it past him. When I reached him, he waved me forward, allowing me to get in line before him. The whole time the front clerk was working, Tyson stood next to me, silent and if I wasn’t mistaken, a little bit broody. His sudden attitude shift unsettled me, and I found myself nervously tapping a random beat on the marble countertop. By the time I took my keycard and thanked the woman, I was so lost in thought that I barely registered it when Tyson slid up to the counter and asked, “Do you have a coat check where I can store my bag for a few hours?” My eyes flew open, my head snapped to his. “You’re not staying here.” That flutter in my stomach intensified as Tyson slowly turned his head, dipped his chin, and raked his eyes over every inch of my body. I didn’t know what he saw through my widelegged black dress pants or my teal silk top, which allowed for just a hint of cleavage, but whatever he saw, when he met my gaze again, everything inside me flipped and flopped. I was unbalanced. Turned on with just a look. I couldn’t shake it off and I stood in front of him, my lips parted, completely dumbfounded, when he thanked the clerk and turned to me. His lips curved into a grin that had me wanting to melt into a puddle of mush at his feet. “Don’t sound so disappointed.” “I…I’m not,” I stammered and snapped my lips closed. His grin widened when he leaned closer to me and whispered in my ear. “I just didn’t want to say goodbye yet. Give me a drink tonight, or dinner.” My head nodded slowly, moving of its own volition. Surely I was not agreeing to this, but as Tyson reached out and squeezed my hand, zaps of electricity flew to my heart, making it beat faster and pound loudly against my chest. He tugged my hand and pulled me toward the elevator bank after leaving his bag with the front desk and taking a claim ticket. The doors slid open and he let go of my hand to help me with my luggage. Then he stepped back and slid his hands into his pockets. Something unpleasant darkened his eyes and I frowned. “You’re not coming up?” Why was I asking this? I didn’t even want him upstairs with me! I didn’t want to see Tyson at all, but with the conflicting emotions I saw in his eyes, I found myself wanting to help him. Damn it. I was so screwed. My shoulders slumped when he shook his head. He reached out and pressed his palm against the elevator door when it started to close. “I’ll give you thirty minutes to freshen up, but then I want to see you down here for dinner.” I swallowed thickly. “You’re awfully bossy and presumptuous.” I got a flash of a smile before he leaned forward and whispered, “I think you like it.” Shivers danced down my body and his smirk told me he noticed. Although, he couldn’t have missed it. I’d just convulsed like a seizure patient right in front of him. I should have hated it. I should have hated him. But as I opened my mouth to tell him I did, the words lodged deep in my throat. The warning bell signaling that the door had been open too long chimed, and Tyson’s hand fell away. “Okay.” I finally nodded and stepped back.

Because I knew…I was going to give him whatever he wanted from me. I had never been able to stay away from Tyson. And as stupid as it was, I didn’t want to do it now, either. I hadn’t felt like this in years. So…alive. And the only reason I agreed to move back home was to truly start living again, but this time with complete freedom. The doors slid shut and Tyson disappeared. I was left alone in the elevator, trying to figure out what in the hell had just happened in the past few hours of my life, and how I could feel it changing so drastically with every second I spent in the small, enclosed space. I headed to my room on legs that felt heavy and weighted, walking as if I was pushing myself through a heavy fog. It was how I had felt ever since I got knocked over on the plane. Drugged, foggy, and like I was living a dream. — Thirty minutes flew by when you were on the verge of having a heart attack alone in your hotel room. It was a beautiful room, with cream furnishings and rich mahogany wood. The Apollonio Hotel spared no expense, and was one of the most luxurious hotels in Detroit. My small one–bedroom suite was elegant, and had just enough space for me until I could find a place of my own. It was the one concession my father allowed when I agreed to move back to Detroit. I refused to move back home, to be under guard twenty-four hours a day, and treated like a teenager instead of an adult. Being the daughter of the Detroit crime family’s boss, I could understand why he’d want to keep me guarded, but I refused to allow him to put a man on me at all times like he’d originally wanted. After many arguments, he’d reluctantly acquiesced. I was not blind to the fact that he was the king and ruler of various illegal activities, but until I was a teenager, I had been pretty ignorant of most of the work my father and his partners did. I was only raised with everything I wanted…everything except my freedom. Now that I had spent ten years living with full freedom, I still planned to live that same way, regardless of how much my father hated the idea. If I was honest with myself, part of that freedom involved Tyson. I couldn’t lie and say I didn’t follow his football career at Central U after I was shipped away, in a very black-ops action movie sort of way, complete with bulletproof-windowed black SUVs in the middle of the night. I even watched Central U play on television whenever I could, and cried for Tyson when I saw his career-ending injury during his senior year. I knew how much football meant to him, how much he wanted to join the NFL. I had read reports saying he was one of the top five drafts picks. Everything ended in one missed tackle that left him unguarded and then sacked right before his team could win their last game of the year. It was shortly after that my aunt refused to allow me to search for any mention of him online. After four years of wallowing, four years of missing him, wondering if he missed me, wondering if he really only dated me because his father wanted him close to my family…it was time to finally give him up.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard I tried to banish the memories of us, in the quiet of night, once the sun had set, my thoughts always drifted back to Tyson Blackwell. The only man I had ever loved. The only man I had ever wanted. Now that I was home, and he was here, I had my own set of questions for him. He might have wanted to know why I disappeared, why I lied to him on our last night together…but I needed to know if everything before that night was a lie. While I was washing my face and reapplying makeup, I remembered the look of shock on his face on the plane. The abhorrent look he gave me when I asked him if he’d tricked me like I’d always been told. Something about that night, the way I felt about him, wasn’t adding up in my head. Brushing out my hair, I closed my eyes and sighed. I had been a naïve teenager, a girl who always felt out of place in school because everyone knew who I was…who my family was and what my father did. If they didn’t, they certainly had their assumptions, and those were enough to force everyone to give me a wide berth. Everyone but Tyson, who somehow wormed his way into my life, and then my heart, when he asked me to be his date for homecoming. Those memories that I had never been able to erase still hurt in a place deep inside of me, but if I was truly going to move on from Tyson once and for all, I needed the answers to my questions, just as I assumed he wanted one to his. It was that fortifying thought that made me set down my brush and turn off the bathroom light. I changed my clothes, slipped into a pair of basic black ballet flats, and grabbed my purse before heading out the door and back down to the hotel’s lobby. “You’re early.” I jumped at the voice that came from behind me, and my hand flew to my chest. I gasped and turned around. “You scared me.” Gone was the suit and professional look. In its place were casual jeans and a simple black T-shirt. The sleeves around Tyson’s biceps looked like they were fighting to stay stitched at the seams. When he crossed his arms over his chest and gave my body a languid perusal, I fought not to squirm in front of him. “Sorry.” One side of his lips twitched. I frowned. “You’re not sorry.” “Nope.” He grinned. “How’d you change?” “Got my stuff out of coat check. I had to get out of the suit. You ready to eat?” About as ready as I was to jump off the top of the hotel’s thirty-five-story building. I gulped, nerves threatening to spill over. “Yup.” Tyson lifted an arm and nodded toward the dining room. I took a step forward, flinching as Tyson’s hand landed on my lower back. “Have I told you yet that it’s really good to see you?” I shook my head and kept my eyes facing forward. His touch on my skin was incendiary—

burning like dynamite and almost ready to explode. “It is,” he said. “And you’re just as beautiful as I remember.” I stumbled over my feet but quickly righted myself and cursed. “Affected?” he asked, laughing softly. “Just clumsy,” I muttered, feeling a heat spread to my cheeks. “Don’t remember that about you.” “People change, Tyson.” His hand flinched off my back, and then his fingers dug into the fabric of my pale pink top. Even now, with just his fingertips pressing against me, I could feel the strength of him radiating through my clothing and into my skin. I hadn’t changed. I had always been naturally clumsy. I just used to try to hide it better when I was with him. I used to try to hide my natural self from everyone. My mom’s constant reprimands to act like a Galecki were drilled into my mind, and they often left me feeling like I could never be myself. Tyson was the only one who got glimpses of it, but even then I never fully shed the Galecki skin until I grew comfortable on Eleanor’s farm. Something about chasing around loose chickens that had escaped from their coop forced you to drop all pretenses of perfection. I couldn’t exactly look calm and collected when sprawled out in mud with chickens pecking at my upturned ass, while a pile of eggs lay splattered beneath me. I stayed silent while a hostess led us to a booth at the back of the restaurant. It was more private, quieter, and slightly darker than the rest of the booths. There was an illusion of complete privacy, and I instantly didn’t like it. Being so close to Tyson was shaking my already wobbly nerves. I slid into the booth until I was hidden away in the darkened corner and jumped when his knee brushed against mine. I avoided eye contact with him while the waitress came and took our drink orders. Once my Moscow Mule was set in front of me, I immediately ordered a chef salad. My stomach was tight and I didn’t think I’d be able to eat much. I was unsettled by this whole day, helping Eleanor on the farm before I took off, rushing through the airport, the plane ride, and everything that was Tyson. The vodka helped me, slightly. Mostly it shot straight to my brain, leaving me even fuzzier than before, but at least my pulse had slowed a bit. “What were you doing in Denver?” I asked Tyson after the silence became unbearable. I didn’t know if he was waiting for me to speak, or trying to put his own questions into words. His thumb trailed down his dark brown beer bottle, picking up small drops of condensation. I wanted to be those water drops. My lips parted as I watched him bring his thumb to his mouth and slowly lick them off. I swallowed thickly. It was hot in this restaurant. The air-conditioning must have been broken or something. Sweat beaded at the back of my neck, and I squirmed in my chair, becoming even more uncomfortable. “Meeting with a client,” he finally said. One perfect eyebrow arched up. “And you?” I licked my lips and took a sip of my own cool drink. I was stalling and I didn’t miss the

disappointment that flashed in his eyes when I didn’t immediately answer. “I lived there,” I whispered, staring at my plate. I didn’t want to get into this, and as I took a bite of my salad, I began to feel everything pressing down on me. The past, the day…I didn’t want to answer the questions I knew he had because it meant having to face my own. Either way, it meant I would finally have confirmation that Tyson had lied to me, or I would have to face the new doubt that had just surfaced: wondering if my dad had lied to me. “Hey,” Tyson said, nudging my knee with his under the table. When I pulled my eyes up to his, his smile softened. Seeing him relaxed made something melt inside of me. It might have been my heart, melting into a pile of mushy goo. “How about we forget the past for tonight? Forget the questions we both have and just enjoy each other?” It was like he had a way to slither inside my brain and steal all my thoughts. I licked my lips after flashing him a grateful smile, and watched as his eyes dipped and followed the slow movement of my tongue. That mushy feeling increased and I nodded. “That sounds really good.” He grinned. It lit up the darkened corner where we were hidden and he nodded, just once. “Good, then.”

Chapter 3 Thump! Thump! Thump! I opened my eyes and immediately cringed away from the bright sunlight pouring in through the windows. “Ugh,” I groaned, and rolled over. Straight into a brick wall. Odd, I thought my room was larger than this. I lifted my hand, ran it along the wall…and I became fully awake when I realized it was not a wall. Quickly I flipped through my hazy memories of the day before. The plane ride. The alcohol after. The company. Oh, crap. “Tyson?” I asked, as the thumping grew louder. I pressed a hand to my forehead to silence the pounding inside my head, but then I realized it wasn’t coming from my head, but the door. Double crap. “Mmm?” I curled my fingers around his shoulder and shook him. He was so hot and firm and muscular. For a moment I wanted to dig in, roll him over, and climb right on top of him. How in the heck did we end up together? In my bed? I didn’t have time to ask before another knock thumped on my door. “Tyson,” I hissed and shook him harder. “Someone’s here.” “Wantmetogetit?” His voice was slurred, muffled by the fact that his face was mushed into the pillow next to me. “No, but you need to hide.” Only one person could show up at my hotel room. Only one person knew I was in town. And I was in bed with someone he hated. Fan-freaking-tastic. I extricated myself from the tangled mess of covers and limbs that pressed down over the lower half of my body. Tyson’s leg hair tickled my calves as I yanked them out from under him. Dang that felt nice. Not the time. With another huff and a groan, I climbed to my feet, just as another thump hit my door. This time, it was quickly followed by a familiar bellow. “Gabriella!” “I’m coming!” I shouted and turned back to Tyson. He had rolled over, the sheets pooling just below his waist, and his hands were tucked under the back of his head.

I took a moment to enjoy the view, the thickness and strength of his muscled chest. The dark hair that narrowed as it dipped beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. He was absolutely perfect. “Hide!” I snapped and rushed into the bathroom where I ripped off my clothes from the night before and threw on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. At least I woke up dressed. I didn’t remember much of the night after three Moscow Mules, dinner, and sidesplitting laughter. “Not going to hide from him, Blue.” “You have to. He’ll kill you if he sees you here with me.” I closed my eyes and tried to control my rapidly beating heart. “Please, Tyson. I haven’t seen him in ten years.” Whether he picked up on the pleading or the panic, I didn’t know, but he eventually nodded. I turned away before I could see him clothed only in boxer briefs. It might have burned my retinas. And it’d suck to go blind, although then I wouldn’t have to face my father’s constant critical and disappointed looks. Squeezing my eyes closed, I tried to remember the previous night, but only came up with memories of laughing and telling stories about when we were in high school. Somewhere between the dining room and waking up in my bed, the only thing I vividly remembered was deciding that even though I knew I should stay away from Tyson…I wasn’t going to. It wasn’t going to lead to anything serious, anyway. It couldn’t. Not now. But I could have fun while I was able to. I could use him as a sexy, fun distraction when I needed to forget about watching my mom shrivel away. And in doing so, perhaps I could kick Tyson out of my heart once and for all. Quickly, I threw on the robe hanging on the back of my bedroom door and shut it behind me. After fixing the tie at my waist, I reached for the door as the obnoxious pounding started all over again. Wiping my hair out of my eyes and cringing, I opened the door to see the man who had acted like I was a nuisance ever since the day I was born. “Hello, Father,” I said. His eyes dipped to my robe and then he lifted his eyes to mine. “You’re not dressed.” I took a step back, waving him in. His scorn wasn’t surprising. It just hurt. It had been a decade since he’d laid eyes on me. He’d chosen never to travel to Colorado with my mother when she made her bi-annual vacation, and the first words out of his mouth dripped with disdain. “Good morning to you, too,” I said with a smile. I caught his eye roll as he walked past me and into the small living room. “I must still be on Denver time.” It was a lame excuse, and I shouldn’t have bothered. He despised them. Jimmy Galecki’s presence sucked the oxygen out of the room, and I fought the shiver that rolled down my spine as my father inspected the place. I noticed that he didn’t seem to have aged a bit in the years I had been gone. His black hair was just as shiny and styled the same, parted on one side and flopped over his forehead. His shoulders were broad and he still stood extremely tall. I didn’t get my height or my personality from my dad but the hair and light blue eyes were two things he could claim he gave me.

That and money. I was a raised a Galecki, and he commanded respect by a simple look. I gave that to him, allowed him to look his fill, and forced my gaze not to fall on my closed bedroom door. “Your trip was good?” he asked when he finished. “It was.” I tightened the belt at my waist and refused to fidget. He hated fidgeting and any show of nerves possibly more than he hated excuses. Not wanting him to see my trembling hands, I quickly made my way to the small kitchenette and began preparing a cup of coffee. “How are you?” The little girl inside me pleaded for a loving look from him. Something kind in his eyes, something to show he was glad to see me. It wasn’t that he hated me, but showing any weakness in his world was deadly and that included showing affection for his only child. “Your mother wants to see you today.” Holding an empty coffee mug in one hand, I looked down at my robe. My hair had to be a matted mess, and the remnants of last night’s alcohol and poor decisions were pounding at the base of my skull. “Now?” The way his lips curved said it all. “Whenever you can manage to pull yourself together.” I took the insult like I had taken all of them—with a simple nod. “Yes, sir.” “And there’s something else I need to talk to you about while you’re at the house today.” “Mom?” “No.” Something pressed itself against my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I knew it. I freaking knew that his allowing me to not move home when I came back to Detroit would bite me in the ass. He hadn’t been allowing anything at all. He had chosen to wait for a more opportune time to manipulate me into doing something he wanted. He didn’t have to say it. I had lived that life for eighteen years, always under his thumb and direction. The glacial look in his eyes said it all: He had a plan for me, and he wouldn’t allow me to get out of it. Damn it. “Oh?” I asked, and he shook his head. Sliding his hands into the front pockets of his suit coat, he stalked toward me. It was how he moved. My dad didn’t walk or wander, he strode with purpose every moment of his life. It was probably one of the things that had kept him alive. That and his armed guards. He dipped his chin when he reached me at the entrance to the small kitchen and smiled. It was fleeting, disappearing before the little girl inside of me could cling to the hope that her dad really did love her. “It’s good to see you, Gabriella. Your mother and I are pleased you’re home.” I smiled hopefully. “It’s good to see you, too.” With another nod, he slid past me, and paused at the door. “Make sure you’re dressed appropriately for your visit.” My smile fell along with my shoulders.

Then he was gone, and the door shut behind him. It echoed in the quiet room, along with my heart, which was beating against my ribcage. I turned back to the counter and filled my mug with steamy goodness, knowing that delicious coffee wouldn’t erase the sting of his visit. “I see he hasn’t become any less of an asshole,” Tyson said, walking into the living room with the grace of a panther. So similar to my own father, really. They were both tall, masculine, and broad-shouldered. I had no idea what Tyson had been up to since college, but I could tell by the way he moved and spoke that he was successful. And his body said he didn’t miss very many bowls of Wheaties. “I’d offer you coffee, but you should probably go.” He grinned and walked straight up to me, taking my mug right out of my hands. His hand engulfed the simple black mug and I watched, slack-jawed, as he brought it to his lips and took a sip. He curved his lips over the rim of the mug and all I could think was, lucky freaking cup. “Kicking me out so soon?” “I need to go. Things to do today.” Surrendering the mug for good when he took another sip, I reached for another and poured my own cup. “What’d your dad want?” he asked, and leaned his hip against the counter. It was unfair that he looked so good after just waking up. His clothes were even unwrinkled, like he had taken the time to iron them while he was hiding out in my room. Which I was grateful for. World War III didn’t need to happen in my hotel room. Besides, cleaning up blood and guts was messy. But it was a seriously cruel joke that Tyson could wake up and look completely put together, while I still felt like a complete wreck, from my messed-up hair to the wrinkled robe and faded yoga pants. Even my toenail polish was chipped. “Nothing.” I shook my head and moved to the kitchen table. “Just to welcome me home.” To remind me to go visit my dying mom. As if that wasn’t the whole reason I was home, anyway. I slumped in my chair and stared out the windows in the living room. Detroit wasn’t a pretty city. Certainly nothing like Eleanor’s farm in Colorado, where there was always the beauty of mountains and air that smelled so fresh you could practically feel it feeding your lungs. In Detroit, everything was loud and muggy. The humidity was horrendous and the smog from the automobile plants seemed to leave a film over the city that refused to burn away even on the brightest and hottest days of summer. Tyson slipped into the chair across from me, coffee mug again pressed to his lips. His Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed, and I couldn’t pull my focus away from his dark eyes. Or his tanned skin. Or his muscles. Or…pretty much anything about him. For the second time I thought about how absolutely perfect he was. Physically, anyway. I couldn’t be around him right then. I was too raw from the visit from my dad and the reminder of why I came to town in the first place. As long as my dad was around, the only thing I had to give Tyson was some torrid affair where we still had to hide and slink around in

the darkness. I was tired of hiding. And I wouldn’t ask for Tyson to do it again, either. “Aren’t you going?” I asked, arching a brow. My foot began tapping a staccato rhythm on the carpeted floor. He returned the look. “We really need to work on your morning-after manners.” “I…we…” My teeth clamped closed and I watched him fight a laugh. Scowling, I said, “This is no morning after. I don’t even know why you’re here…or why I let you in.” “Didn’t have much choice when you passed out in the hallway.” My eyes widened. “I did not.” “Did so.” He nodded seriously and set the mug on the table. “You leaned right up against the wall, started singing ‘Roar,’ said it was your new life-anthem or something like that, and then you just sort of…stopped.” No amount of foundation could have covered up the heat burning on my cheeks. “I didn’t.” “You did. I have it on video if you’d like to see…” He reached for his back pocket, and I lunged over the table. “Don’t you dare!” “Relax.” He laughed and held up his hands, surrendering. I slid back into my seat. I would have preferred to sink into the floor and forget the last twenty-four hours. A do-over had never sounded like a better idea. “I didn’t take a video, but your voice needs work.” “Anything else you need me to change for you?” I asked, but my voice carried a sting of anger, lacking the teasing tone I had intended. I blamed my father’s visit for making me so high-strung and oversensitive. All my life I’d been forced to be someone I wasn’t. Forced to pretend and act perfect at all times. Tyson had been my solace from it, yet after one small conversation with my father, I was back to feeling like I’d never measure up to anyone. His smile disappeared. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Blue.” “Stop calling me that.” “Why? You don’t like it?” “No.” I stood up. I did like it. Too much. It reminded me of blissful ignorance and pathetic dreams. “I don’t even know why you’re here, or why you stayed.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Argh. Those muscles. I looked away. “Figured if you were going to throw up, it’d be nice if you weren’t alone.” “Well thank you, then.” I flashed him a look and walked into the kitchen. Then I poured myself another cup of coffee and stayed there. Being too close to him was deadly. I was getting all swoony and girly and lusty and that wasn’t me. “Then you should be relieved that your vomit-watch is over now.” His lips twitched. He slowly pushed his chair out, swung his leg over the back, and then pushed it back under the table. And damn, his butt looked good in those jeans. I caught just a glimpse before he turned away and walked around the table, heading straight for me. Instinctively, I took a step back. And then I froze. I wouldn’t cower away from him. “You should really get going.”

“I probably should.” He took another step closer. I rolled my shoulders back. “Good.” “Yup.” Another step forward. He was close enough that I could smell him, and he didn’t smell like stale alcohol and un-brushed teeth. He smelled like sunshine and sex. “I’ll see you later.” I shook my head and gripped the mug in front of me like it was a lifeline. To what, I had no clue, but I needed something to hold me steady. Keep me sane. “Probably not a good idea.” “Oh, I think it’s a great idea,” he murmured and leaned forward. And I was done for. I was completely lost as he brushed his lips against my cheek. That damn lip-brush was going to be the death of me. My breath hitched in my throat. “I still have questions and you still owe me answers.” He moved toward the door, opening it and glancing back at me over his shoulder. “See you soon, Blue.” The door clicked shut behind him, echoing all over in the silent room, and I was left alone. Just like always. “Shit.” — I scrubbed my hair with shampoo and tried to calm my mind. When my father had called and requested that I return home, I had only been concerned about my mom and her health. Running into Tyson had thrown me for a loop and as I showered, washing my hair and massaging my temples to eradicate my hangover, I couldn’t help remember one of the hardest conversations he and I had ever had. — “That’s wonderful!” I jumped up and threw myself into his arms. The piece of white paper in Tyson’s hand crinkled as I pressed my chest against his. “I’m so proud of you, Tyson.” Tyson squeezed me and then let me go. His hands curled over the top of my shoulders as he looked down at me, his thick brow furrowed in that way they did when he was really concentrating. In two years of dating, I had seen a lot of his looks. His serious look was the least common, and I worried my lip between my teeth. “What?” “Central is almost two hours away, Blue.” I frowned. “And?” “So how we gonna stay together?” My eyes widened. “This is what you’re worried about? Us?” Tyson shook his acceptance letter from Central University in front of my face. The paper made a harsh snapping sound and I could tell he was frustrated, but I was fighting back a giggle.

I placed my hand against his cheek. “We’ve got cars, Tyson. We can see each other whenever we want.” “I thought you’d be upset. Or sad because you’ll miss me.” His lips thinned and he ran his hand through his hair. “Shit, I’m turning into a girl, aren’t I?” My giggle slipped free. Tyson shot me a scowl but I saw his shoulders lose some of the tension. “It’s four years, Tyson. Four years of us following our dreams. That’s what relationships are about—helping the person you love go after their dream. Isn’t that what we’re doing?” “I don’t like the idea of you being far from me, with other guys not knowing you’re mine.” I rolled my eyes. This, his possessiveness, I knew well. Our school was small, but Tyson still walked with me in that way that silently told all the guys around us to back off. I teased him frequently about just getting his name tattooed on my forehead. “You’re crazy.” I rolled onto my toes and kissed his lips before I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He copied the move, and lifted me until my legs wrapped around his waist. “I love you Tyson Blackwell. I always will. Four years is nothing compared to the rest of our lives together.” He heaved a heavy breath and pressed his lips against my ear. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go, anyway. No matter what happens, it’s you and me, Blue, and it’ll be that way forever.” — I slapped off the water faucet and reached for a towel. It wasn’t until I had finished drying off that I realized my cheeks weren’t still wet from the shower, but from my tears. We had made so many promises to each other. We had made so many plans together. Now, ten years later, I had no idea if it’d ever be possible to get past the lies between us. I did know that even though Tyson left me in my hotel room just an hour ago, I already missed him like crazy. — “You look good, Mom.” I kissed her cheek after lying through my teeth. “I look like crap,” she said, and laughed. It wasn’t her laugh, though, and it killed me a little bit inside. Her skin was pale, her eyes were sunken, and the dark circles under her eyes were more apparent today than when we spoke over FaceTime just last week. She really did look like shit, but I couldn’t admit it to her. Luella Galecki was the strongest woman I knew. She had fought this cancer twice already, once when I was ten, and again when I was sixteen. When she went ten years without a single scare, it finally convinced all of us it wasn’t coming back. It was all an evil mindfuck to get us complacent, though, because eleven months after her ten-year checkup she started feeling tired all the time. Then she stopped being able to eat.

And when the vomiting began weeks later, and I learned about it during a phone call, I knew deep down in my gut that this fight wasn’t going to be the same. “You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” She smiled, allowing the lie. She probably needed to believe it as much as I needed to say it. “Tell me what’s new with you. What you’re going to do now that you’re home.” I squeezed her hand lightly, needing to touch her. In contrast to the aloofness and coolness of my father, my mom was different. She was light and airy and kind. Even when she corrected me, tried to discipline me, or force me to behave in a way representative of the Galecki family, I always knew her heart was in the right place. “I’ll find a job,” I said, “and an apartment. I have a few appointments lined up this week.” “Detroit?” she asked, hesitancy making her jump over the one word. As if I was leaving her now. “Mostly.” I smiled, but I was distracted. Detroit was never where I wanted to be. I preferred the farm to this bedroom. Goats and chickens to my mother’s body that was wasting away in front of me. I could practically smell death coming to take her. It was that same smell that made you wrinkle your nose in a hospital. Medicinal and cold. I swallowed, fighting back emotions that I didn’t want her to see. The last thing I wanted was for her to see me crying over her. She had always been too full of life—too exuberant and joyful—to waste time with tears. Once I was sure I could speak without my voice cracking, I began telling her about what jobs I was looking for. Not that I was qualified for much of anything, but I knew my family’s name would open doors for me. And even though I generally hated relying on it, sometimes being a part of the most feared family in Michigan had its benefits. Not that I would take too much advantage. I wanted a job in event planning, even as an assistant or secretary. I didn’t care if it was with a private company or a hotel. I would answer phones or organize calendars and do just about anything to get a job doing what I had always wanted to do and finally had the chance to pursue. As I was telling her about an apartment I found in Latham Hills, a small borough on the north side of Detroit, she started coughing. At first she covered her mouth, trying to hide it, but I quickly reached for a nearby bucket. She waved it away, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead. With a cool rag, I followed her hand and cleaned the sweat lining her brow. “Your father wants to talk to you,” she said with a raspy voice. “He told me.” “He’s not a bad man.” “I know, Mom.” I smiled and nodded because it was expected. But really, he was a bad man; she was just too blinded by her love for him to admit it. Ever. “He needs a favor and I need you to listen to him.” Her expression turned serious, and she pulled my hand off her forehead, taking the cloth from my grip. “Mom…” “You’re getting older, and mostly because of your father’s mistakes with you, which I

allowed for too long…you haven’t forged any close relationships. But I need you to consider this favor he’s asking of you.” “Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to like it?” “Malik Rilotti is a good man. Older, but a kind man, and he’s fair. He could be good to you.” “W-what?” Unease rolled through me and I stuttered before clamping my mouth shut. I took a quick mental check to see if I just missed vital parts of a conversation. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?” “That you marry the man who will someday succeed your father? The man who can provide for you, give you everything you need, and give you a family so you’re not without one after I’m gone? Yes…I am.” Wow. I wiped my mouth with my fingertips and leaned back in the chair next to her bed. “You’re manipulating me with this?” “I don’t want you to be alone.” My mind flashed to a picture of Tyson in my head. It wasn’t Technicolor or grainy pixels, either. He appeared in my mind’s eye in high-definition, in my memory the way he was at my kitchen table that morning. I blinked it away. “I won’t be,” I assured her. “But you can’t mean this.” Her cool hand wrapped around mine and she squeezed. Her grip was no longer as strong as it used to be. “I want you to consider it. Consider the benefits and security, that’s all I ask. For me.” I couldn’t argue with her. Not when she was practically dying in front of me and I knew she wanted this for me. It didn’t mean I would go along with it by any means, but for her peace of mind, which was more important than the tumultuous emotions tightening in my stomach, I agreed. “Thank you,” she murmured, and her eyes closed. It was only moments before she fell asleep with her lips lightly parted while her chest rose and dipped slowly.

Chapter 4 My feet trudged slowly down the large staircase after I left my mom’s room. There wasn’t a whole lot that had changed in this house over the years. The same photographs still lined the hallway walls, although there were a few additions. Some of the decorating had been updated, old couches replaced with new leather sectionals, artwork swapped out to change the feel of the sitting room, but other than that, most things remained the same. If I closed my eyes, I imagined I would feel exactly like I did when I was a teenager. Trapped in a castle of a house that wasn’t much of a home, and worrying about my mom. “There she is. The princess has returned home.” I looked up and immediately smiled when I saw the elderly man at the bottom of the stairs. Claude had been my family’s butler and driver for as long as I could remember. He was probably around before I was born. Looking at him waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, I picked up my speed. I skipped down the remaining steps until his fragile, older arms surrounded me. His embrace wasn’t as tight as it used to be and his skin was speckled with age spots. His bright white hair that used to be full and thick was now just a band that stretched from one ear around the back of his head to the other. But his smile was still just as kind as his hug. “It’s good to see you, Claude,” I whispered into his chest. He seemed to have shrunken in the last few years. Or maybe I had grown. It could be the three-inch heels I wore that made me tower over him. “My bella, Gabriella.” I pulled back from Claude’s arms and turned around, only to be quickly wrapped in thick arms that had held me more often than my own parents’ had. “Clarissa,” I whispered and squeezed her tight. She was rounder than I remembered and her hair slightly grayer, but her arms were just as strong as she rocked us back and forth so quickly my heels slid on the tiled floor. “So good to see you.” “You are too grown up,” she said with a wide smile and a thick Italian accent when she stepped away. “You are still little to me.” I swiped away tears that sprung in my eyes. My nanny and family chef had always been so good to me. Sneaking me cookies and cupcakes when I was supposed to live on a diet of vegetables and fruit. She tucked me in, sang me songs, and prayed with me when my parents were at one gala or fund-raiser or another. For the longest time, Clarissa was my best friend, despite the fact that she was old enough to be my grandmother. The woman was old and cranky and one of the few people who could talk back to my father. I grew up constantly listening to them bicker about small things, even if it was just the dinner meal. No one else had the balls to do anything that Jimmy Galecki hadn’t commanded besides her. I had always admired her for it, and seeing the fire in her eyes now, I knew that nothing had changed.

I kissed her on each of her cheeks once and smiled fondly. “I’ve missed you, Clarissa. So much.” She reached out and squeezed both of my hands inside hers. “We have all missed you. The house is thrilled you’re home.” Based on my interaction with my father this morning, I doubted everyone was thrilled to see me. I flashed an indulgent smile anyway. I loved her. She always saw the best in people, always wanted the best for me, even when it went against my parents’ wishes. She even kept my relationship with Tyson a secret, and I never once suspected she was the one who told my dad. She wouldn’t have broken my heart like that. She grabbed my hand and began pulling me toward the kitchen. “Come with me, bella. I want to hear all about Colorado, how you’ve been doing, and if you’re good, I might sneak you dessert while I finish up preparing lunch.” Eating desserts and getting to talk to Clarissa? I couldn’t think of anything I would rather do. She had an uncanny ability to put everything into perspective, and given that she was one of the only people who I could speak to about Tyson a decade ago, I assumed not much had changed on that front either. “Do you have chocolate?” I asked, feeling a skip in my step that I hadn’t felt in years. “Humph. Do I have chocolate?” She shot me a look and continued pulling me forward. I grinned at her back. I should have known better than to ask the question. When it came to Clarissa, chocolate was always available. — “Thank you for lunch, Clarissa.” My father paused to wipe the edges of his lips with a cloth napkin. “It was delicious as always.” “My pleasure, sir. We’re all so glad Gabriella is home.” “Thank you, Clarissa,” I told her and turned to my father as he cleared his throat. Setting down his white napkin, he dipped his chin in Clarissa’s direction as she began clearing the table. Then he stood from his chair, and his serious gaze landed on me. “We should talk in my study.” Personally, I preferred to put off this conversation for a while. Like…forever. Unfortunately, being in my old home was like switching on my obedience, and I felt myself nodding in agreement as I pushed away from the table as well. I followed him to his study, a room that was lined with shelves filled with magnificent books I knew he never read. As a child with a thirst for knowledge, as well as classical romance, I spent hours in this room, sneaking books off the shelves, only to sneak them back before he noticed them missing. He may not have read the books, but he had an impeccable eye and a sixth sense for anything out of place. I learned to read quickly. I scanned his study, noting that nothing had changed in my absence except for the addition of a few baubles that held significant shelf space. Considering my family has had union leaders and the automobile industry in their back pocket for generations, they were most likely gifts from politicians and business owners.

“How is Mom really doing?” I asked, hating the way my words tripped in my throat. I slid into a chair opposite my father at his desk and clasped my hands together. “Dying,” my father stated. My head jerked back and my jaw dropped. He shrugged at my shock, blowing it off, but that was how he was. It wasn’t that he was completely unaffected by her cancer. He just had always been a blunt man. If nothing else good could be said about him, at least it could be said he always loved his wife. I witnessed their passion for years, their undying love and loyalty to each other. He indulged her whims and her laughter when everyone else was kept at arm’s length. Despite my own conflicting emotions about the man, their love still inspired me to find something like that of my own. Someone I couldn’t bear to live without. “When?” I asked, feeling my throat close and my hands grow clammy. He looked past me, over my shoulder, and his light blue eyes went blank. “Tomorrow, next week, a month from now. I have no idea, nor do the doctors.” “I’m sorry.” He blinked and licked his lips quickly. “It just means that when she passes, I too will step down from the organization. Not because of that, but because it is time. The organization needs a new leader, one with fresh eyes. In order to do so though, I need to ensure that my family is secure and that things will remain unchanged. This is where you come in.” My spine straightened. I wasn’t unaffected by the strength in his voice or his commands as his eyes met mine directly. I already expected this. It had been impossible to forget after the brief conversation upstairs. Still, a part of me was stunned. I had never imagined my father willingly stepping away from being the head of the Detroit crime family. I figured he would either be incarcerated or dead long before he’d consider walking away. I pushed that thought away and focused on my father’s penetrating gaze. “Malik Rilotti,” I stated and watched his head jerk slightly in surprise. I grinned wryly. “Mom mentioned him.” “He’s a good man.” “He’s old and I don’t know him.” My fingers pressed into my palms until I felt the slight sting from my anger. “He will take my place, and it makes sense that my successor is married to my heir.” “And yet you were allowed to marry for love and would withhold that from me.” Again, I didn’t say. It wasn’t my fault I fell in love with a cop’s son when I was just a teenager. Just like it wasn’t my father’s fault he fell in love with the daughter of a hippie goat farmer. My father’s hands pressed into the wood desk and his chin dipped, he narrowed blue eyes that looked like mine but were cold. His annoyance rolled off him until I had to force myself not to collapse under the pressure of his weighted stare. Unfortunately for him, being without him for ten years had made me less likely to bow to his wishes at the snap of his fingers. “He’s a good man, and your mother wants you to find someone.” “Yes.” I nodded. “She’s already given me the guilt-inducing, manipulative spiel upstairs.”

“So you know why this is important to her.” Not to him. Because I was just a girl and I didn’t matter. Not like a son would have. I brushed off the pain that followed that depressing and martyr-like thought. Damn him. And her. And this whole family. I was still the little girl who craved her father’s approval. “When do I meet him?” His head cocked to the side. “I expected more of a fight from you.” “And this disappoints you?” “Makes me curious,” he admitted, “but pleased nonetheless. He’s gone for the weekend, but I’ve given him your number, and he’ll contact you when he’s in town next week.” I rose from the chair, hoping I appeared more aloof and confident than I felt on my trembling ankles. “I told Mom I’d consider this, consider him. But this doesn’t mean I’ll go through with it.” He nodded once before I turned away from him. “Understood. Oh, and one more thing before you go.” “What?” He opened a drawer in his desk and placed a set of keys on top of the desk before closing the drawer. I recognized them immediately. They were my old keys to the house and the Audi he’d bought me when I turned eighteen. It was ten years old, but I didn’t care. “Your mother insisted I keep the car. Claude has made sure it’s been kept in good condition.” I swooped up the keys. “Thank you.” I needed air and freedom. I needed someone who let me be myself without the pretense. Damn the cocky asshole who made me laugh so hard last night that the sides of my stomach still hurt. Because it was Tyson I thought about as I left my parents’ mansion. Tyson I thought about as I put my old car into drive and pulled out of the long and winding private driveway. And it was still Tyson I thought about when I got back to my hotel room, climbed into bed, and grabbed the pillow next to me, inhaling his scent which still clung to the sheets and pillowcase. — Waking up after a restless nap, I groaned as I rolled over. Immediately I was hit with the scent of Tyson still on the pillow next to me. It might have made me a freak, but I still pulled it closer, wrapping my arms underneath and pressing it tight to my cheek. Tyson Blackwell. Was it really just yesterday that I ran into him? Was it really just this morning when I woke up next to him? Even if nothing happened last night, and I believed him when he said it didn’t, I couldn’t help but feel the small sting of disappointment in my chest that I was waking up alone, still thinking about him.

I groaned again and stretched before getting out of bed. My stomach grumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten anything besides Clarissa’s lunch. As my stomach rumbled again, I made a quick stop in the bathroom and refreshed my hair and made sure my clothes weren’t too disheveled. Then I grabbed my purse and headed down to the hotel’s bar. What I really wanted was something more than just food in my stomach. I needed something stronger to take away the pain of seeing my father again. I wished I could hate the man, but as hard as I tried, those emotions never came. He was evil and did despicable things for a living, but he was still my dad. My flesh and blood, and if nothing else had been drilled into me my entire life, it was that Galeckis were loyal to their family. It was the only reason why I agreed to meet with Malik. To not consider my parents’ proposal would cause more trouble than it was worth. While just the thought of going through with it, of being with a man fifteen years older than me simply because my dad wanted me to, made a vile taste rise in my throat, I figured one date, maybe two, would appease both of my parents enough. I could at least say I had tried. “Tequila and a menu,” I told the bartender when I walked up to the bar and slid into a seat. The room was close to empty. It was the tail end of dinner time, yet too early to really start drinking. At least for most people. While the bartender went to get me a menu, I tried to stop my eyes from roaming the restaurant area, but like a beacon, I homed in on the far corner booth where Tyson and I had sat last night. Memories of the way his eyes seemed to sparkle when he laughed, or the way his perfect smile and perfect face stayed glued to me all night long assaulted me. As if I was important to him. It was a foolish thought, one I quickly banished when the bartender placed that tequila shot in front of me. I chose to forgo the salt and the lime and tossed the alcohol down my throat, only cringing slightly. “Another please,” I said, and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. It was an unclassy move, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to forget about what my life had become. “And water.” “You okay?” the guy asked me, and leaned his elbows onto the top of the glistening marble bar. I met his eyes and nodded. “You bet.” His eyebrows rose and his eyes scanned my face, completely ferreting out my lie in a matter of seconds. He was young, probably my age, and his long blond hair made him seem more like a surfer than a bartender. Dressed in all black with a long-sleeved dress shirt and dress pants, he was cute. Not as cute as Tyson, though. Which had been most of my problem for the last ten years. It wasn’t like I didn’t date, or never took advantage of men, or hadn’t had my share of times where I’d been the one taken advantage of. But none of it had mattered much because every guy I did date couldn’t measure up to the memory in my head of a boy I had once loved. “Not sure I like seeing a pretty thing like you slamming back shots alone.” I smiled at his compliment and was greeted with his smile in return. It was friendly and

genuine, and I almost hated that I couldn’t stop thinking that he was tall, but not as tall as Tyson. Built, but not as muscular as… “How about I get that shot, anyway,” I said, my smile disappearing. “And a prime rib, done medium. Along with more shots.” He looked at me curiously before finally nodding and walking away. As soon as he was gone, tension drained from my shoulders. He was right. I didn’t need to get drunk two nights in a row, especially since I rarely drank. The smartest thing would be to cancel my dinner order, head straight back upstairs, order room service, and spend the rest of the night looking for jobs and apartments. Unfortunately, I had never been that smart, so when he slid two more shots in front of me, I smiled as he took one with me, this time using the salt and lime he provided. “Thank you,” I said quietly after I set my lime down on the offered napkin. “If you’re gonna drink,” he said with a wink, “you might as well not do it alone.” I laughed softly and then immediately stopped when a wall of heat hit my back and a deep, masculine voice practically growled, “She’s not alone.” The bartender’s eyes snapped up and then widened. I didn’t need to look to know that Tyson was behind me, and he sounded completely unhappy. I rolled my eyes at the unnecessary display of alpha maleness when his hand trailed along the back of my shoulders. Tiny goosebumps erupted all over my skin, and I forced myself not to shiver beneath his touch. His hand left my shoulder, but then went to my thigh when took the seat next to me. I stared at my water glass, feeling warmer in my cheeks, while the bartender turned to Tyson. “Of course. What can I get for you?” “Whatever the lady’s having,” Tyson said, his voice still tight. I watched the bartender move away and I wanted to shout for him to come back. To have another shot with me. To smile all happily and whatnot and not leave me with the man next to me. But that was ridiculous, so I kept my mouth shut. I looked down at the firm hand on my thigh and fought another shiver. A white dress shirt with sleeves rolled up his forearms showed off the perfect amount of dark hair and a shiny silver watch at the wrist. What was it about a man and a nice thick watchband that made women want to drool? It was so simple, but so sexy. I gulped and slowly pulled my eyes up to see him fully. When our eyes met, his hand on my thigh tightened, his lips pulled thin, and then he turned me on my barstool until my legs were in between his. He looked better than he had that morning and he had looked absolutely lickable then. Sitting in front of me now, he looked slightly angry, definitely annoyed, and as his eyes scanned my face and then dropped to my body where he took in the lightweight, emeraldcolored sweaterdress which clung to every curve of my body, he looked… Well, he looked like he wanted to eat me alive. Possibly after shouting at me. “Hey,” I said lamely, and looked over his shoulder. Staring at him directly in the eye was too intimate. We were too close, me sitting in front of him, his thighs spread wide so my knees were in between his. His arms went to the back of my chair and he effectively caged me

in. His lips twitched slightly, as if he was now more amused than annoyed. “Have a bad day?” He nodded toward the empty shot glasses on the bar. I grabbed my water and took a sip, reveling in the cool water that helped douse the heat I felt rolling off Tyson. Damn it. The man was magnetic and sexy and irresistible and I knew I should resist him, but his pull on me was impossible to ignore. So instead of lying, or brushing it off, I opted for honesty. “Yeah.” I frowned and turned back to the bar. Tyson let me go, allowing me to turn away from him, but his hand stayed on me. His fingers brushed lightly though my black hair until I could feel him fidgeting with the ends, twirling them around his finger. The gesture was soothing, not sexual at all, but I still felt my body respond with warmth that spread to my lower stomach. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the bar but with his head turned in my direction. I didn’t say anything until two more shot glasses appeared on the bar in front of me and I nodded toward the bartender as I reached for the one in front of me. “Thanks.” The bartender grinned. “No problem.” His smile disappeared as soon as he glanced over to Tyson, and I couldn’t help but smile. He was rather large and intimidating, and I almost felt bad for the cute guy. “Just like you said this morning. My dad’s still an asshole.” I took the shot and as it hit my stomach, I figured that was my last one. Three shots in ten minutes were dangerous and I needed to keep my senses tonight. “You wanna talk about it?” Tyson asked. Genuine concern flashed in his eyes. But there was something else there, too. Something that made his jaw tighten and his teeth grind together. I didn’t know what it meant, but I didn’t like it. “No, Tyson. I don’t want to talk about it.” A bitchy smile spread across my lips, and Tyson’s eyes hardened further. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here, suddenly everywhere I go.” His Adam’s apple dipped. “That what you want to do right now, Blue? Start the question and answer portion that I promised we’d have tonight?” I didn’t know why he suddenly looked so angry, or why his nostrils flared in the way they always did when he was really, really pissed. But I did know that answering his questions, or listening to him answer mine, was the very last thing I wanted. “Nope.” I spun back to the bar and got the bartender’s attention. “Two more shots please.” “I think you’ve had enough,” Tyson whispered next to me. “I think that if we’re going to talk…I shouldn’t have to be sober.”

Chapter 5 I wiped my lips with my napkin before sliding the plate away from me. A large prime rib and a baked potato with all the toppings was exactly what I needed to help soak up the tequila shots. The dinner had provided me with the perfect distraction from whatever it was that exploded behind Tyson’s eyes and expression when he brought up answering questions. With dinner done, I could no longer procrastinate. “My mom’s dying,” I stated plainly. Next to me, Tyson sucked in a breath. I didn’t look at him. I didn’t want to see the expression on his face. If it was too caring, I would cry. If he didn’t appear concerned at all, I would cry. This is why I don’t typically drink. It makes me a crybaby. I don’t even know why I chose to blurt that out the way I did. I blamed the tequila. “What?” Tyson sounded shocked. I didn’t blame him. I swiped my mouth with my napkin again and took a sip of water. The ice cubes clinked against my teeth, and I sucked in a breath after I placed the glass on the bar top. My hands trembled slightly, and I shoved them into my lap. “Cancer.” The air thickened before my chair spun slowly until I was once again sitting between Tyson’s spread thighs. He reached out, pressed a finger against the bottom of my chin, and pushed up. He stopped when I was staring directly into his eyes, and I hated what I saw. A mixture of anger and concern. The concern I got. The anger made me frown. “Cancer?” he asked. I cringed as I watched the word form on his lips. It looked like death. Even though the two words were vastly different, they also meant the same thing. “Yeah, again.” He blinked and then shook his head, shaking away the shock in his expression. “She beat that shit in high school.” Also when I was in elementary school. He might not remember that, but we were together when her breast cancer returned for the second time. I couldn’t remember the number of nights he held me in his arms while I sobbed, so fearful she wouldn’t survive. My eyes filled with tears and I turned away from him, but his finger on my chin stopped me from getting far. “That why you came home?” “Yeah.” I whispered it so quietly I practically breathed the word through my lips. I blinked rapidly several times to clear the tears away before getting the bartender’s attention. He had left us alone as soon as the meals came, but now, I needed him and what he could offer me. When he met my gaze, I flicked two fingers up signaling for more shots when Tyson

wrapped his hand around mine and put it on the bar. “I think you’ve had enough alcohol.” I stared directly at him. “I think I’ve had a perfectly shitty twenty-four hours, and if I want to get wasted, that’s not your call.” “You got wasted last night, Blue.” I didn’t need the reminder. With a heavy sigh, Tyson stood from his stool and tossed a stack of cash onto the bar. “This is for both of us.” Turning back to me, he held out his hand and waited for me to put my palm in his. While I debated the intelligence of such a decision, one of his eyebrows arched in a silent dare. I put my palm against his and his warm fingers enclosed my hand. The familiar heat that started whenever he touched me slowly slithered its way down to my sex until everything felt warm and tingly. Dangerous. “What are we doing?” I asked, sliding off my stool until I stood in front of him. “I thought we’d go for a walk.” My lips twisted and I looked down at my dress and wedge sandals. “I’m not really dressed for a walk.” “Let’s go change, then.” A walk sounded nice. Fresh air sounded better. During weekly conversations with my mom, she had told me about the riverfront that had been built within the last few years along the Detroit River. It was supposed to help revitalize and renew a dying city, bring back life and energy to a city that was devastated by the economic collapse of the last decade. She thought it was beautiful and peaceful. While she had showed me photos, since two of my father’s legit companies were actual investors and she had spent hours working on benefits to help fund the projects, I had yet to see it for myself. With the first small burst of excitement building, I allowed Tyson to pull me toward the elevator banks. “Why are you here?” I asked quietly once we were alone and the elevator began rising to my floor. He was silent for several moments and in his reflection on the metal doors, I saw his jaw working back and forth. Finally, his lips parted. “Thought about you today. Wanted to know if you were okay after seeing your dad. And mostly, I just wanted to see you again.” My eyes narrowed. I couldn’t tell if he spoke truth or lies. Maybe a mixture. I hated that I doubted him so easily now, when he was the one person in my life that I never doubted before. I had trusted him implicitly. Now everything was different. I was different. He followed me down the hallway to my room, staying a step behind me, not touching me. My fingers trembled slightly as I took out the keycard for the hotel room. I bobbled it and it

took me three tries to open the door. Behind me, I heard his soft chuckle and embarrassment warmed my cheeks as I opened the door. I turned away from him, holding the door open to prevent him from seeing my reaction. “I’ll be just a moment,” I whispered. Turning on my heels, I rushed to my bedroom and whipped off my dress and shoes, leaving them in a pile on the bedroom floor. I quickly pulled on a simple pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeved running shirt, and grabbed my running shoes. At the last second, I pulled a jacket from the closet. It was mid-spring and getting warmer every day, but there was still a chill in the air and the breeze off the water could make it cooler. Tyson was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt, and while I’d look frumpy next to him, my day had been a rush of confusions, emotions, and bad circumstances. Comfort was my new armor. Something that would probably make my father’s eyes go wide before he pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. I smiled at the thought and at the small, tiny, rebellious feeling that welled up inside of me. Besides all that, I hadn’t worn heels all day for years, and my feet and ankles were killing me. My arches almost sighed in relief as I slipped them into my gray and purple Pumas. While wrangling my long black hair into a simple ponytail, I reentered the living room. Tyson’s back was to me and he was looking out the window, seemingly watching the Detroit traffic rush by on the streets below us. With his shoulders tense and back straight, hands on his hips, and even the slightly tightened jaw, it only served to me remind me that he was no longer that laid-back easy-going teenage boy who used to make me laugh loudly and fiercely. His emotions in the last twenty-four hours switched from flirtatious to annoyed with the snap of a finger. As I stared at him, knowing he could see my reflection in the wondow checking out every curve of his muscular back, I wished like hell I still knew who he was… what made him tick. What he was thinking about as he turned to me, jaw tight, one side of his lips pressed into a frown. As if he couldn’t stand his own conflicting emotions. Perhaps we had become similar. I had my own set of conflict bubbling inside me whenever he was close to me. But if tonight was the night for questions and answers, then tonight was the night I got the answers to mine. — “This is really beautiful,” I said. My words floated into the breeze and vanished almost immediately. Detroit had done amazing things with their riverfront by creating a carousel park and adding beautiful, wide, and well-lit sidewalks. The riverfront stretched into the harbor, and my mom told me there were pavilions where bands would play live music in the summer. The noise of the boats and the ferries taking tourists and visitors across the river drowned out some of the conversation, though. But still, with the sun setting behind us, I could barely tell that the Detroit River was inky black and something you’d never even want your enemy to step their toes into. “They’ve done great things here.” Tyson looked as enamored as I was as we walked. Conversation had been sprinkled in between long stretches of comfortable silence. Based on his own surprise and quiet reflection while we strolled the riverfront, he told me that he hadn’t been in Detroit for at least the last five years, since about the time he graduated college from Central U.

We were leaning against the railing, a carousel with blaring music and laughing children behind us and the water in front. I could make out the buildings at Belle Isle Conservatory, a small island in the middle of the river. Sunglasses shaded his eyes and his forearms rested on the emerald green railing; my own fingers curled around the warm metal. I fidgeted in the lingering silence by pushing away from the railing and pulling myself back, but never letting go. Using the metal like an anchor, I took my first leap and admitted something I knew I shouldn’t. “I watched you in college. I cried when you got hurt.” A harsh puff of breath pushed past his lips. I heard it, but fear kept my gaze focused on the water. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him shift until just one of his arms was on the railing and he faced me. His other hand came up and one finger trailed down the side of my neck, over my shoulder, and down my arm. Goosebumps erupted everywhere, and my shoulders tensed at his light touch. His finger traced along the ones I still curved around the rail, before he moved around my fingertips and in between the spaces. I had to close my eyes and hide the things his simple caress was doing to my insides. And my heart. His touch was so gentle, so reverent. “Why’d you leave, Blue?” I swallowed thickly and shook my head. That wasn’t the question I wanted to start with, but it was the one that really needed answering. Forcing myself to be brave, to hear answers I might not want to, I slowly turned until his finger dropped from my hand and his palm settled on the side of my hip. He didn’t put pressure on me, but it felt as if his hand was crushing me. It could have just been my heart inside my chest that hurt so much. I looked over his shoulder and licked my lips. “Do you remember that last night we were together?” I worried my bottom lip between my teeth, biting down to keep my chin from trembling. Tyson’s hand tightened on my hip. “Yeah, babe. I remember that night. I remember everything about you.” I blinked rapidly several times. Sighing heavily, I rubbed the back of my neck. “I came home that night and my dad showed me photos. Told me he had proof that you were dating me to get info about my family to give to your dad.” “The fuck?” His head jerked back like I’d slapped him. A sudden chill covered my skin when he didn’t speak. “You didn’t, did you?” I couldn’t hide the accusation in my tone. I moved to step back but Tyson’s hand gripped my hip, keeping me firmly in place. The dark blue in his eyes went electric and his eyes narrowed. “No, Blue. I didn’t fuck you, take your virginity, and fall in love with you all because my daddy asked me to. Jesus.” His hands slammed into his hair and he pushed them through before scrubbing them down his face. He sucked in a breath that made my gut churn. All the fear, all the anger that I’d held on to for the last decade exploded into a ball of overly emotional womanly mess. “Well, what’d you expect me to think?” I shouted, feeling my small hands ball into fists at

my sides. “He showed me everything. Told me your dad was investigating him—” “Yeah. My dad,” he snapped. Fury rolled off him so thick I could practically touch it. “We were kids, and my dad was a good man. You think he’d pull that crap? After he welcomed you into our home?” “And maybe that was why he was so nice to me. Don’t you see how that could make sense to me at the time?” He leaned forward, his breath hot and heavy on my cheeks. His mouth was inches from mine, so close I could see tiny stress lines dance out from the edges of his full, parted lips. “No, Blue. I figured you knew I loved you. I figure you should have known I wouldn’t have ever done that crap to you in the first place. Hell.” He spun away from me and took several steps away, putting his back to me before he twisted and grabbed onto the handrail. His shoulders heaved as he inhaled and exhaled rapidly for several moments before I noticed my own adrenaline pulsing through my blood, burning me from the inside out. “Why’d you leave then? You just disappeared.” He shook his head, staring down at the tumultuous waves. I wondered if his insides felt like those waves. Mine did. “What happened?” he asked, twisting his head in my direction. “Dad said I had to go, that he never should have allowed me out of the house and because he did, my actions brought a risk to the family…or some bullshit like that. It’s all…” I paused and waved a hand in the air. As if a magic wand could erase the last several minutes. “It’s all blurry now.” “Right,” he smirked. “Just one easily forgettable night.” A blush hit my cheeks at the thought. Lying in the back of Tyson’s pickup in a field outside the city limits. It was our spot, where we went the night I had given my virginity to him six months earlier. It hadn’t been romantic at first, but Tyson made it so with blankets and candles. Everything a girl could want. That last night we were together hadn’t been any different. We had spent the night talking about heading off to our separate colleges. We talked about what we thought it’d be like, to finally be on our own, and how we could see each other as often as possible. Our time together was disappearing rapidly before Tyson had to report to football camp, but we tried not to dwell on it. Like we always did, we sealed our promise to stay together forever with a kiss, which unfailingly led to more. “It wasn’t,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “But I didn’t have a choice, either, Tyson. Dad sent me off that night.” His gazed stayed fixed on my eyes before it slid to my lips and then down my body. It felt intrusive, and I fought the urge to hide myself. I hadn’t done anything wrong except trust the man responsible for bringing me into this world. The man who sheltered me and raised me. Perhaps, after all, that had been wrong. “You could have come to me.” “Really?” I tilted my head to the side. “What would you have done? Even if you’re telling me the truth, it’s not like I could have done anything different. Your dad was still investigating mine.” His eyes closed and pain lashed across his face. I saw it clearly in the way he jolted back

and sucked in a breath. “Your dad had mine killed two years later, Blue.” The words left his mouth in a whisper and were quickly forced into the air where they formed a ball that slammed into my chest with the speed of a bullet. It seared into my skin, and tears filled my eyes. “I didn’t know.” “I’m not sure you’ve ever truly understood what he’s capable of.” I shook my head again, as if the action could erase the words Tyson just spoke, or the truth in them. “How do you know?” He laughed, but it was cold as ice. Ice trickled down my spine. “I know.” “Then why wasn’t he investigated?” His eyes widened in surprise. “Do you know who Jimmy Galecki is? How many men in the department are in his pocket or on his payroll? Do you have any idea the influence your father has with men in this city? How much influence you have because of your name?” I did. I’d always known it to some extent, but I had only experienced the benefit the name could bring, not the destruction. Although what he said made sense. I often searched for news of my father and our family online. Nothing was ever mentioned, not even about the DPD investigating him. “I’m sorry.” I wiped the first tears from my eyes away and turned, putting my back to the rail. “Now you know.” “Where’d you go?” “I have an aunt in Colorado. I’ve been there, working on her farm.” An odd sound came from beside me. When I turned my head, I saw just the hint of a smile that matched his incredulous look. “Farm?” I rolled my eyes. “Everyone knows my mom comes from a hippie family. Her sister has a goat farm.” “I’m sorry,” he said, interrupting, but clearly amused. “You’ve been living on a goat farm?” Most of the tension and the anger dissipated with just that question. I imagined what he was thinking. I thought the same thing for the first several months. Me? A girl who had a cotillion. Who began having her hair dyed and highlighted at the age of thirteen, along with weekly manicures, and had closets full of designer clothes? “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” I protested. Tyson’s grin only grew wider and he stepped in front of me. “I think I need to hear more about your life on a farm.” Slowly, I nodded. Then I reached out and placed my palm in his extended hand. Somehow knowing that one action would change everything. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Chapter 6 While the stress eased off my shoulders, finally having answers even though I knew we had more questions between us, I could feel Tyson pulling away from me with every step we took. He led me farther north from my hotel to Harbortown, where most of the streets were lined with townhouses, some walk-up brownstones, and local restaurants. I loved it here because there wasn’t a chain or franchise restaurant in sight. My eyes widened as I saw a familiar place, one where we used to eat. “Cherry Yo-Ville?” I asked. It could have been a coincidence. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft, proving it wasn’t a coincidence after all. From the look in his eyes, I could tell he clearly remembered the times we used to eat here. He looked down at me and tightened his hand around mine. “I didn’t even realize where I was headed.” Then his eyes hardened again and he tugged me inside. I knew we still had a lot to discuss, but there was one thing I could no longer deny: Even with the unknowns, I hadn’t felt more at home in the last ten years than I did when Tyson was touching me in some way. I frowned as I thought about the way he so quickly changed his emotions and clenched my teeth together while we grabbed our bowls. We were silent while we loaded them up with different frozen yogurts and waited in line before piling on the toppings. The entire time, Tyson stood close, not touching me, but I could feel his presence like a wall of fire at my back or by my side. “What’s going on with your mom?” he asked once we were seated at the table. “Not much to say. This is her third time fighting breast cancer, and it’s metastasized to her brain. Her body can’t handle it anymore.” I closed my eyes and inhaled briefly, fighting back tears. “There’s nothing they can do for her.” “Blue—,” he began, his voice full of pity or sympathy. I hated the thought of either. The sight of her in her bed, so small, frail, and pale, flashed in my mind’s eye, and I quickly changed the subject. Talking about my mom wasn’t something I wanted to continue. “So, you know what I’ve been doing for the last ten years.” I took my first bite of a mixture of birthday cake and Oreo yogurt and closed my eyes, savoring the flavors. As good, if not better, than I remembered. “What’d you do after college?” He paused, his eyes glancing to his food before coming back to mine, but I caught the tightening of his jaw. Then he smiled, and it made me feel all funny. “I think we need to talk about this goat farm far more.” My lips pressed together, a spoonful of fro-yo hovering at my closed lips, and I arched my brows. When I realized he was going to completely ignore my question, all the warmth I had been feeling earlier began to cool. But I couldn’t stop smiling as I thought about the farm, and I let

him distract me, even though I knew he was hiding something. I hoped like hell he’d tell me when he was ready. He listened intently while I told him about my first few months on the farm, where I had spent more time facedown in mud and running from the few chickens in Eleanor’s chicken coop than I did providing any real help. He listened to my stories of farmers’ markets and learning how to make goat milk and cheese. How we made our own candles. Life was simple on the farm, but it was good, too. I learned I was capable of more than my parents ever wanted of me. I was capable of handling myself and working with my hands. I did things I never would have considered myself capable of, but under the tutelage of my gentle, loving aunt, somehow, all things were possible. His eyes and laugh lit up the room. I wanted to continue telling him anything just so his eyes didn’t darken anymore. After he paid our check and escorted me out of the restaurant, his hand firmly clasped in mine, we began our slow walk back in the direction of my hotel. “I told you about me,” I said, eyes facing forward. “Where’d you go?” “DC,” he finally said after a long pause. “Went to law school there.” I frowned, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “You’re a lawyer?” He nodded slowly, just once. His eyes were guarded though, and I felt my shoulders slump. He was hiding something from me, and I knew I should ask, call him out on it, but then Tyson pulled me toward him until I stumbled, and I braced myself with one hand against his chest. His firm chest. Hard. Muscular. A chest I saw just that morning but now was touching through his shirt. All rational thought fled as the familiar feelings of being so close to Tyson again overpowered any other thought. “Came home to help with my grandpa’s law firm,” he finally said. His voice was husky, a bit gravelly. His words vibrated against my ear as he lowered his head. “I never thought I’d come back to Detroit, but I can’t say I’m disappointed to get to see you again.” His head dipped further, his lips brushed against my ear. “Tyson,” I whispered. “God, I fucking missed you, Blue. I didn’t even realize how much until I saw you again.” And then there was no more room for talking. His hand holding mine dropped to my waist, and his other hand slid to the back of my neck. With a slight tip of my head, our lips brushed against each other. I inhaled, shocked at the feel of him. For the first time in ten years, he was in front of me, holding me, touching me, almost kissing me, and my body responded on instinct. I licked my lips, my tongue tasting his as I did, and a noise escaped his lips. His hand on my waist tightened. My hand on his chest slid up and over his shoulder. My fingernails dug in and I lifted up onto my toes. And then he was kissing me. His lips slid against mine again, tasting me, teasing me. I returned his kiss, pressed against him as he held me tight. When he stopped the teasing, his mouth opened and I responded. I had to. There was no other option for me except to give him everything I had.

He was the only one I ever wanted to give anything to. “Damn,” he whispered against my lips. “Didn’t forget how good you tasted, either.” I laughed softly and leaned in. “Kiss me, Tyson.” “Babe,” he said. He listened, though, and his mouth opened, his tongue slid inside mine, and we were suddenly kissing on the sidewalk, hands roaming over shoulders and skin. He swallowed a whimper that escaped my throat as our tongues tangled together, and everything, along with everyone who could see us, melted away. I felt caught up in a dream, a memory. The best memory of my life because this kiss was not like the ones we shared before, and at the same time, it was. His hold was stronger, his kiss surer, but everything in me remembered exactly what Tyson felt like…everywhere. “Blue,” he gasped, pulling away. For a brief moment, I thought I saw regret in his dark blues, before he blinked and it disappeared. “We need to stop.” “I think we need to take this somewhere else, not stop.” He stepped back, wrapped an arm around my waist until his hand was at my lower back, and then he ushered me the several blocks back to my hotel. Even with my long legs, I still had to hustle to keep up with Tyson’s hurried strides all the way to my hotel, into the elevator, and then down the hall to my room. — With all of our rushing, my head began spinning, thoughts running in circles, and I imagined all the things that would happen as soon as we reached my hotel room. A room where just that morning, I woke up next to Tyson. One we got there, both of us breathing quicker than normal, excitement fled and nerves took its place. “Would you like a drink?” I asked Tyson and headed for the small kitchen. “I know I have some wine and I think beer. There’s also water and some soda.” “Blue,” Tyson said, his voice close at my back. “Nothing has to happen tonight.” I curled my fingertips around the edge of the counter. “I know.” I did. He would never force me to do something I didn’t want. The problem was I did want it. I just didn’t know if it was smart. Or if I wanted to be smart. Slowly, I turned my head to look at him, and I saw the same indecision in his eyes that I felt. Yeah. Tyson wanted me, but he didn’t think it was smart either. I didn’t know what to think about that, so instead of asking, I opened the fridge, handed him a beer, and grabbed one for me. “Want to watch a movie?” I asked once we popped the tops on our beers. I watched as he tipped the beer bottle to his lips, followed the slow movements of his throat as he swallowed, and kept my eyes pinned on his mouth when he licked a drop off his full bottom lip. “Movie’s good.” Nerves fluttered and swirled inside me, like I was sixteen all over again, making my heart beat faster as I slid past him and headed toward the living room. Tyson’s steps were quicker than mine though, and he beat me to the couch. When he sat

down, he took control over the remote, something that made me smile. With his other hand, he wrapped my waist and pulled me down so I was forced to sit next to him, and I curled into his side. It felt so natural, so soothing, I didn’t move away. With my beer in my hand, I let Tyson flip through the channels until he came across a Tigers’ game and he set the remote down. “Thought we were going to watch a movie.” “Movies suck, and there’s a game on.” I took a quick drink from my beer, hiding my smile. “Of course. Because the Tigers could lose if you don’t cheer for them when you’re not there in person. They can tell, you know.” He took his beer, tapped our tops together, and put it to his lips. I could hear the smile in his voice. “Seems you do remember the important things.” So we sat like that for the next couple of hours, long after night had fallen and my eyes grew heavy, but I was enjoying this too much. This quiet peace between us where it felt like we’d gotten our past on the table, then silently decided to let it go and move on. The question though, was move on to what? It felt incredible to be around him again, like a part of me that had been missing had now been found. He helped me forget about the stuff with my mom. I hadn’t once thought about the request from my parents earlier today. The man next to me consumed my thoughts as his thumb trailed slow, gentle circles along my shoulder, on and off for the last hour. We barely spoke, except during commercials, because I definitely remembered that one did not speak during a Tigers game. That teasing circling on my shoulder sent shocks of desire to everywhere else in my body. And even though I was fighting to stay awake, I didn’t want Tyson to leave. I didn’t want him to head to wherever he was going to go when he left here, without getting another taste of him. I wanted to feel him. Turning, I shifted into him so my hand wrapped around his waist and I looked up. His hand on my shoulder tightened and his head dipped. We looked into each other’s eyes, and with each passing moment, electricity sparked and zapped in the space between us. He still looked conflicted. I was past caring. My hand tightened on his stomach, slowly drifted higher to brush over his hard chest, and I watched his pulse increase at the base of his throat. “Blue,” he said. It was a warning or a plea. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. Curling my legs beneath me, I sat up so I was on my knees and leaned forward. “Kiss me, Tyson,” I said. He swallowed thickly, making me think he was going to push me away, when one of his hands dropped to my waist and the other slid to the back of my neck just like before. Then he tugged me forward until I was almost draped over his lap. He shifted, and my thighs spread to the outside of his until I was straddling him. My hands went to his cheeks. His hands pulled me forward. Then his lips fell to mine, and he stole my breath the moment he touched me. There was

no slow, passionate buildup; there was only fire and heat and intensity that I couldn’t ever remember feeling before. I pressed my chest against his and ran my hands down his neck to his shoulders. I held on while he devoured me, tasting every place he could find inside my mouth, holding me firmly against him so I couldn’t move away. Not that I wanted to. I was exactly where I wanted to be. My hips shifted, and I moaned into his mouth. He was hard beneath me. A bulge so thick it was noticeable through his denim and the lightweight cotton of my yoga pants. I didn’t even care that I wasn’t dressed sexily. That my hair was in a disheveled ponytail that only got worse as Tyson’s fingers dug into my scalp. As if he possessed mind reading capabilities, his fingers moved higher until he pulled the holder out of my hair and black strands fell to my cheeks, framing my face, and blocking out anything besides Tyson. “Holy shit,” he murmured. His hips pressed into me, mine pressed down, and we rocked together, moving against each other while our hands explored each other’s bodies through our clothes. But I know he could feel every touch of my hands on him like I was touching his bare skin because that was how my body responded to his touch. It was instantaneous. It was amazing. And I still craved more. Needed more. “Tyson,” I whimpered. Just his name. A needy plea for more. My hands dropped to his waist, and I began tugging his shirt out from his jeans. My fingers trembled as I began undoing the buttons. His hands reached for the hem of my shirt and then he lifted. I paused my own pursuit of feeling the heat of his skin against mine only to lift my arms. The T-shirt went up and off and was thrown somewhere behind me. My fingers finished on his shirt and I pushed it open, revealing his chiseled chest and sculpted abs. And as my fingers first brushed against his skin, my fingertips felt singed from the heat rolling off him. He dropped his head to the back of the couch and sighed. His hands stilled at my ribcage as he continued rocking me against him. I watched the movement while my hands pushed his shirt off his shoulders, down his arms until I couldn’t move it anymore. “We should stop,” Tyson said suddenly, reluctance thick in his voice. His hands pushed down on my hips, holding me against him so I couldn’t move. But I needed relief. I was so close. I shook my head. “Slow down a bit. There’s no hurry, Blue.” He was probably right. “I know.” We both paused, our harsh breath mingled together in the small space between our lips. Our gazes stayed fixed, and I waited for Tyson to take his hands off my skin. Waited for him to push me away and apologize, or something. None of that happened.

Instead, his eyes dropped to my chest and a low groan escaped his lips. His hands slid up and then over my breasts. I shifted into him, not taking my eyes off him. His eyes went hazy, and I whimpered when his hand brushed over my satin bra. Then his thumb tugged it down, revealing one breast and then the other. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze moving to my eyes. I smiled shyly, feeling slightly vulnerable, bared before him when he was the one who wanted to stop. He didn’t want to now, though, and I wouldn’t stop him from doing whatever he wanted to me. I was still on edge. The area between my thighs still pulsed with need. His thumb grazed my nipple and I gasped, my chest arching into his hands. It was my non-silent approval, and apparently, all he needed to see and hear before his lips were back on mine and his hands were all over me. We touched each other, swallowed each other’s cries and pleasured gasps, and my hips began to shamelessly rock against his erection again. There was no turning back now. I was fighting to undo his buckle when one of his hands left my breast and clamped down over my own. “No.” He shook his head, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke. “Not tonight.” “But.” I stopped and swallowed thickly. His hand on mine moved until his finger traced the edges of my black pants. My stomach shivered and it sent bursts of flames to my core. “I just want to touch you tonight.” “What if I want to touch you?” I asked, and he flashed me a grin. Not amused, more that he was hiding a promise behind his smile. “The next time I touch you, the first time I’m inside you, there will be nothing between us.” I frowned. I was on the pill. We didn’t have to have anything between us now. Before I could explain, his mouth covered mine, and he made me his even if he didn’t know it. I knew in that moment, as his finger dipped below my waistband, seeking its target, I had already given him my heart all over again, even though I was terrified it would only end up shattered all over again. I was powerless to stop it. Rational thought fled as soon as Tyson touched me. His fingers found my center and I gasped into his mouth, pressing into him as he brushed my clit, slid through my wetness, and then inside me. My body pulsed and quivered into his arm at my back, and he swallowed my cries as my orgasm began rising. It rolled and crested until the waves grew higher and higher, closer together. It clawed at me, starting at my toes, spread up my legs until my thighs shook and trembled…and then everything shattered. I cried his name out loud, pulling apart from Tyson’s lips as my climax overwhelmed me. My head fell to his shoulder as his ministrations slowed and he slipped his fingers from inside me. Both of his hands wrapped around my lower back, and one hand slid up until he cupped my shoulder. He held me to him while I trembled from aftershocks and I reveled in the quick beating of our hearts against our chests. “Beautiful,” he whispered into my ear. “You’ve always been so beautiful.” A puff of breath escaped my lips. I nuzzled closer to him.

“Please stay,” I said hesitantly. My hands wrapped around his back. “Stay the night with me.”

Chapter 7 There wasn’t a brick wall at my back when I woke up the next morning. Instead, I was somehow lying on it. As I opened my eyes, the first thing I realized was that my head was resting on Tyson’s shoulder and my arm was draped across his stomach, my hand low on his hip. My leg was thrown over one of his. I was practically lying directly on top of the man, and based on the way his arm was curved around my back, resting on my waist, the sleeping man beneath me didn’t seem to mind. Not if the hardness pressed against my thigh was any indication. As soon as I felt it, every muscle in my body tensed. With nerves or anticipation, I didn’t know, because I wasn’t given the chance to find out. Tyson’s hand on my waist tightened, and he flipped and rolled us and I quickly found myself on my back. Beneath him. My jaw dropped as he hovered over me¸ keeping some of his weight off me by bracing his forearm next to the side of my head while his other arm still wrapped around my back. “Good morning,” he mumbled right before he dipped his head and his lips took mine. And it was so good, I didn’t think about morning breath, bed head, or leftover makeup smeared beneath my eyes before his tongue dipped into my mouth, swirled with mine, and he let loose a low groan that hit the deepest parts of me. My hands moved to his hips, holding him to me, and my knees widened until I could feel his hardness press against me. Perfect. “Good morning,” I whispered when he pulled back and began trailing his lips across my jaw. My fingers gripped his waist and then slowly began running up his back, feeling all of his muscles flex and bunch. His warm breath skated across my skin, eliciting a delicious shiver that danced down my spine. I shifted into him, my fingernails dug into his shoulders, and just as Tyson began pushing up the tank top I had on to reach my skin, his phone rang. “Ignore it,” I muttered against his mouth. My voice was breathy, panting. His was just as erratic when he groaned into my neck. “I can’t. Shit.” With another kiss to my throat, he slowly let me go, and rolled off me until he was sitting up at the far edge of the bed. I rolled over to face him and watched him dig his cellphone out of his back jeans pocket. “Blackwell,” he said and glanced over his shoulder at me. Whatever softness had been in his eyes when he was on top of me evaporated and his face and voice grew tight. “It’s Sunday.” I took my cue from the sudden coolness in his expression, rolled to my side of the bed, and rushed to the bathroom. My cheeks were flushed, my pupils dilated, and thank goodness I didn’t have time to think about morning breath, or bed head, or smeared mascara earlier,

because as I took stock of myself while I reached for my toothbrush, I learned I had all of the above. I looked like a hungover raccoon and cringed at my reflection. But Tyson didn’t seem to mind, so I thought about that while I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and used the toilet. Then I snagged the robe hanging on the bathroom door on my way out and paused when I saw Tyson sitting in almost the exact same position he was in when I left the room. Legs spread wide on the edge of the bed, one elbow to his knee, his forehead in his palm and the other hand still held the phone. In order to avoid interrupting him, I quietly moved toward the living room and barely caught what he was saying into the receiver. “I’m working on it…well, I tried to warn you…Yes, I told you, it’ll be fine.” Due to the nature of my father’s business, I understood that all sorts of things happened at all hours of the day and that phone calls that didn’t involve me, or any conversations for that matter, were best left alone. So I stopped listening, closed the bedroom door behind me, and went to make coffee. I was lost in dreams of caramel-flavored coffee and memories of the way Tyson’s body felt against mine, so I didn’t hear him enter the room. I jumped when his warm arm wrapped around my waist and his hand rested on my stomach, pulling me toward him. “Wasn’t how I wanted to start the morning,” he whispered huskily into my ear. I relaxed further, and let him pull me up against his chest. I could now feel he’d gotten fully dressed. “But I need to get to work.” I frowned, felt my lips push into a pout. “Okay,” I muttered and reached for the carafe. “Can I get you coffee before you leave?” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against my cheek. “Sorry, Blue, but I can’t.” I shifted in his arms until he let me go and took a step back. Sipping my first hit of dailyrecommended caffeine, I closed my eyes and relished the taste. “On a Sunday?” I asked and held the mug in both hands close to my chest. He looked at me for a moment before answering with a wry grin. “Law doesn’t wait for anyone or any day.” “Okay then, I guess…have a good day?” His eyes looked blank, making nerves begin to build inside me. We hadn’t had sex. Even if we had, I had no reason to be embarrassed, but while he was doing all the right things, saying all the right things, something had put distance between us since we had rolled out of bed. Tyson stepped toward me, and my throat tightened. “Give me your phone.” He held out his hand. My eyes dropped to his palm and then raised back up to meet his. I stared at him, dumbly, until a small smile spread into a wide grin that flashed amusement in his eyes. “I want your number, Blue. I want to put my number in your phone, but I can’t do that without your phone.” “Oh. Right.” I caught his quiet laugh while I moved back to the bedroom, grabbed my phone from the nightstand next to the bed, and headed back to the living room. When I reached the kitchen, I saw Tyson set my mug on the counter. “I thought you didn’t

have time for coffee,” I said, teasing him. “Just wanted a taste.” I unlocked my phone and handed it to him, watched while he added his number, and then caught another smile stretching his cheeks. “What’s funny?” I asked and he handed me my phone. Looking down at the screen, I chuckled when I saw that he entered his name into my contacts as “Blackbird.” I lifted my eyes to his and matched his smile. “You remember.” Blackbird was the nickname given to him by a bunch of his football buddies once everyone found out the reason Tyson called me Blue was because my full middle name is Bluejay. They got a kick out of teasing us mercilessly but good-naturedly. “Told you I remember everything.” I sent him a quick text, just a quick hello, and set my phone on the counter after his phone pinged with a notification in his rear pocket. “Now you have mine,” I said, my voice quiet, and for some reason, my cheeks began to heat. Tyson reached out and pressed his palm to my cheek. His lips brushed against mine once, and then twice, before he pulled back and said, “I want to take you to dinner tomorrow night. Do you have any plans?” I stiffened as I remembered my father saying Malik could be contacting me tomorrow, but I couldn’t imagine he’d want to do dinner immediately. “I shouldn’t,” I finally said. “I have to do some job hunting and apartment looking, but can I let you know once I’m certain?” “Definitely. Have a good day.” He kissed me again, another soft goodbye kiss that lacked the passion of our first kisses this morning. When he was gone, I was once again left staring at a closed hotel room door. Disappointment balled inside my gut at his abrupt departure, at the way our morning went from something that could have been really…really good…to distant and passionless. Because if it were up to me, we would have been back in my bed, pleasuring each other with a quickie if that was all he had time for before he had to leave. The disappointment in my gut grew into something larger at the thought that maybe he didn’t want me as much as I wanted him. “Stop it,” I muttered to myself and reached for my now barely warm cup of coffee. “You’re just horny, and he was in a hurry. No big deal.” Somehow, the pep talk helped, as did a fresh cup of coffee. I spent the rest of the afternoon searching for jobs, ensuring my résumé was up to date, and then emailing it off to several different companies in the Detroit metro area and a few northern suburbs. Then I fixed myself up for dinner at my parents’ and spent time with my mom. All before trudging back to my hotel room, exhausted and emotionally drained from another few hours spent at my mom’s bedside, sitting there with nothing to do while she slept almost the entire time. I crawled into my bed and was just about ready to fall asleep when my phone beeped.

Blackbird: Night, Blue A grin stretched my tired lips. My body warmed. Me: Night, Black His response was almost instant. Blackbird: Tomorrow Since I didn’t know if that was a question or a promise, I didn’t respond. Grinning, I slid the phone back onto the table, curled under my covers, and fell asleep with one arm wrapped around Tyson’s pillow from the night before, wishing like hell I that hadn’t let the cleaning crew into my room so I could still smell him on the sheets and pillowcase. I didn’t even care if that made me seem crazy anymore. — “You look distracted, bella.” Clarissa’s gentle and accented voice pulled me out of the daydreams that I had been having of Tyson. She was completely right. My cheeks warmed under her knowing smile. “I’m just looking for jobs.” She snapped a towel on the kitchen counter as she passed me. “Looks to me you have a man on your mind and not a job.” I pressed my lips together, but she still saw the smile in my eyes. “You going to tell me about him?” I shook my head. While Clarissa knew about Tyson and me in high school, she had always warned me it was a bad idea, even while helping me hide it. I knew what it could have cost her. I wouldn’t do that to her again. Not that there was anything to hide. Because today was tomorrow and it was already two in the afternoon and I hadn’t spoken to Tyson about the date he wanted to take me on. I hadn’t heard from him at all since that text. And I still didn’t know if I could even go on a date with Tyson because I also hadn’t heard from Malik Rilotti. I desired to see or speak with only one of those men. The wondering and the waiting left me feeling scatterbrained for most of the afternoon I had been at my parents’ house. Deciding it didn’t make sense to do my work at the hotel and then come see my mom only to have her sleep, I chose to do both at once and got dressed and ready that morning in attire my father would deem “appropriate,” which meant my toes were crammed into heels and I was wearing dress pants. I had loosened the button and zipper on the pants and kicked off the heels hours ago, but I still didn’t feel comfortable. Regardless, when my father had seen me, he seemed pleased as he dipped his chin in my direction and hurried out the door to a meeting. I had spent the day alternating between visiting my mom upstairs and shooting off

résumés in the kitchen while she slept. Clarissa was my only, albeit sporadic, company during the day and she had caught me daydreaming twice. She caught me playing mindless games on my cellphone three times. Only once did she see me email a résumé or contact a hotel about an event planner position. Turns out that while the economy in Detroit was on the upswing, people still weren’t in party mode yet, and my options were slim. I let loose a growl of frustration, my hands harshly brushing through my hair as I continued to stare at the computer screen. Annoyance with my own situation grew with every passing moment. Technically, I didn’t have to work. I knew this. I had a nice, hefty trust fund sitting in a bank account, every year growing more interest than I could ever imagine spending. I never wanted to touch it, though, considering I knew that some of the ways that money was earned was with blood, drugs, and other illegal activities I didn’t want to know about. As far as I was concerned, it didn’t exist to me, but on days when I saw the small amount I’d saved from odd jobs in Colorado and from working on the farm, its temptation called to me. My phone buzzed on the counter and I reached for it, hope blooming in my chest that it might be Tyson. But the number was unknown, and I quickly slid my thumb across the screen, thinking it could be someone about a job I had applied for. “Hello?” And hope disappeared when a masculine voice replied, “Hello, Gabriella.” Based on the slight accent, and the deep tone, I instantly knew who had called. “Mr. Rilotti.” A low, rough chuckle filtered through the phone. My fingers gripped it tighter. “Come now, Gabriella. We’ve known of each other for too long to be so formal, and hopefully will know each other better soon.” A cold, slick feeling slid down my spine. I stayed silent, letting that speak for itself when he smoothly said, “I would like to see you for dinner tonight.” I jerked back in my chair. “Tonight?” A quick scan of my body proved I wasn’t dressed in anything nearly suitable enough for dinner. I was certain my hair was bedraggled after running my fingers through it all day. “No time like the present to discuss our arrangement, I believe.” Arrangement. I scowled at the word and thank goodness no one saw me do it, especially him. Malik Rilotti was a man I knew only in name and through brief introductions. At fifteen years my senior, and a widower for the last several years, I couldn’t imagine we would have anything in common. Reminding myself that this was for my mother, for appearance, and simply for one meeting and not an arrangement, as he seemed to think, I forced down my unwanted feelings and played my role. “Certainly, Mr….Malik. Dinner tonight will be lovely. Where would you like to meet?” “A man doesn’t meet a woman for an evening out, Gabriella. I will pick you up at your hotel at six thirty.” At least he had some manners. I wanted to argue with him, but knew it would be pointless. “I look forward to seeing you,” I said through a fake smile. I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. Then I wished I could tell my mom

and dad to take a hike and that there was no way in hell was I helping them further their empire. But I couldn’t bear to see my mother’s expression without giving her request a chance, even if it held the same odds as a snowball surviving in hell. “Don’t be late,” he said in a clipped tone, and then he was gone. So much for manners. I frowned at my phone. I flipped through my contacts until I found Tyson’s number in my phone, smiling when I saw the name Blackbird, and hit the green call button. It rang four times before I heard his rich voice in his voicemail greeting, telling me he couldn’t come to the phone and he’d return any messages as promptly as possible. He was formal on the phone, and my smile grew as he continued speaking, but I hung up without leaving a message. “There’s that smile I love,” Claude said, walking into the kitchen. “Any particular reason you seem so pleased this afternoon? A gentleman caller perhaps?” My smile disappeared, and I thought of the gentleman who’d called me versus the one who I’d called. There was no comparison between the two. I was stuck entertaining the one I didn’t want for an entire evening. I shook my head and looked down at my screen. “No, Claude. Not really.” “Hmm. A shame, really. I always imagined you with a lovely husband, a man who adores you, and a brood of children.” I laughed softly at his description. “Yeah, well if my parents have their way, I’ll get none of that.” My head snapped up and my lips pressed together. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have said that.” No one disrespected my father’s wishes, and no one spoke against him. Things I’d forgotten, but in their house, I needed to remember that. Claude was kind, but he was still my father’s employee and therefore would always be more loyal to him than to me and my frustrated ramblings. “No worries,” Claude said, clearly uncomfortable. “Have a good day.” He walked to me, brushed his lips against my cheek and whispered, “Be careful, bella. Eyes and ears are everywhere.” “Of course,” I muttered when he pulled back. My shoulders sagged as he shuffled out of the kitchen, back to do whatever he was supposed to do. I pulled up my text messaging and sent Tyson a message. Me: So sorry. Won’t be able to see you tonight. Then I reluctantly slid out of my chair and packed up what I had brought with me to my parents’. On my way up the stairs to say goodbye to my mom for the day, my phone vibrated. Blackbird: Unfortunately, I have a client who just returned to town so I’ll be busy too. Disappointment flickered inside me because I wouldn’t have been able to see him anyway.

Silly, really, since I was the one that originally said I had plans. Me: Some other time? Blackbird: Yes. I can still feel you on my lips. I swallowed thickly as I read the text, my body heating in all the right places when another text came in. Blackbird: I want to feel you in other places, too…Tomorrow? Me: Yes. I typed the word, the answer, the promise, without thinking, and before I could see his response, already knowing my cheeks were flushed, I silenced my phone, dropped it into my purse, and headed into my mother’s room. All the while, a smile fought to break through. Because I will get to see Tyson. Tomorrow.

Chapter 8 I stepped into the lobby of my hotel five minutes before Malik was supposed to arrive, properly dressed in a simple but elegant black sheath dress that stopped just above my knees. The dress was conservative, with a wide neck that reached my collarbone and, because it was sleeveless, I had a silver pashmina draped over my elbows and across the back of my waist in case I felt chilly later. On my feet were simple high-heeled nude pumps, also conservative, but they made my already long and toned legs look like they went on forever, though not in an overtly sexual manner. Dressing for tonight’s dinner was not easy; I wanted to look appropriate and like someone who should be seen on Rilotti’s arm, knowing wherever he planned on taking me, eyes would follow. Yet the last thing I wanted was for him to think he could have more just by exposing skin. I didn’t want there to be any confusion as to why I agreed to meet with him, and I planned to make that clear at dinner. I wouldn’t consider this. I had not agreed to any arrangement, as he so ineloquently put it earlier. Something heavy swirled in my gut and I pressed my hand to my lower belly. Malik Rilotti was a man accustomed to getting whatever he wanted, and I doubted the way he achieved that was any more moral or ethical than the way my own father did. With a heavy swallow, I tightened my hand on my small silver clutch and I tried to shake off my nerves. Bangles on my wrist clitter-clattered with the sudden, short movements. It echoed in my ears and it was the only sound I heard until a sleek, black town car pulled to the curb. Then everything fell silent. I froze as I watched the valet open the back door. My pulse jumped to my throat as the back door opened and Malik unfolded himself from the backseat. I had met him only a few times in my life when my family hosted parties at our house. I would have been a young child and teenager then, and hadn’t given his appearance or his looks any thought. At the time, he had just been my father’s co-worker. To say I noticed now would be an understatement. He was truly stunning. He most likely had no problems finding a woman to warm his bed. My guess? He didn’t even have to snap his fingers to get a woman to fall at his feet. He could probably stun them all with a knowing glance. Tall, clearly over six feet, his frame was leaner than I expected as I watched him slip a tip into the valet’s hand and glide into the hotel. Yes, glide. He was so smooth, his feet didn’t appear to touch the ground as he made his way to me in a sleek black suit with a white dress shirt opened at the throat and no tie. His thick black hair was speckled at the temples with just hints of gray, but he was clearly and instantly one of the most refined, sexually magnetic men I had ever seen in my life. His black eyes fell to me and his full, dark lips separated into a welcoming smile. “Gabriella,” he murmured, his voice soft and rich. He moved in close, and I had to fight a

flinch when his large, firm hand settled on my hip. His lips brushed against one of my cheeks then the other before he pulled back. “You are stunning.” I flushed under his praise instinctively. He knew how to look, how to touch. Most women probably lost their minds around this man. I didn’t even want him, and yet I was finding it difficult not to preen under his appreciative gaze. I swallowed and then remembered my manners. “Good evening, Malik.” His eyes flickered with amusement and his lips quirked on one side. “Are you ready to go?” No. No I wasn’t. I had the sudden urge to chuck my heels and take off running to my room and hide under the covers for eternity. This man’s presence was disarming and frightening. But I couldn’t fight him. There was no way. With my nod, his hand on my hip slid to my lower back. He turned and guided me out of the hotel and into the car. The entire time, I felt where he touched me, felt the heat from him at my side, and I’d be lying if I were to say that it didn’t affect me. It did. His power and prestige along with his elegance and grace was unmatchable. He was much like my father, instantly commanding respect and honor with a look and a touch. Perhaps it was because I was raised to follow, to obey without question, but I couldn’t deny that as he sat in the seat next to me, staying an appropriate distance away from me on the back bench, that I felt a pull to do both, without questioning him, either. It was distressing and I looked out the window, trying to gather my scattered thoughts when his voice cut in. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” I blinked out the window, worrying my lower lip between my teeth before I set it free and turned to him. “I promised my mother I would consider this.” Something akin to disappointment flashed across his face before he hid it. “I see.” And I hated that even though I didn’t want to be with him, in any way, I still felt that disappointment cling to me, slither its way into my chest, and grip me painfully. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean that as harshly it sounded.” His smile widened fractionally. “I cannot fault you for your honesty. But I’m hoping by the end of the evening, you will be giving this idea more than just consideration.” Doubtful. Highly. Yet I had risked offending him enough, so I matched his smile, waited for his approving nod, and then turned back to the window. We were relatively quiet on our way to wherever he planned, and I watched the city of Detroit slide past the windows. Tall, well-lit buildings so high I had to crane my neck in order to see the tops of them as we sped by. “I forgot how large this city is,” I said quietly, breaking the silence. “And how loud it can be.” Glancing at Malik, I saw him press his lips together. “I imagine life in Colorado was much simpler.” “It was.” I smiled fondly, remembering Aunt Eleanor, whom I was beginning to miss dearly. She had essentially been my only friend and confidante for the last decade, and I missed her quiet, gentle wisdom. It always made me wonder what my mother used to be like, before she became fully immersed in the Galecki family role of hostess and high-society

socialite. “It was definitely simple, quiet. I’ve only been gone a few days, but I already miss the stars.” Without missing a beat, Malik pressed a button in the car and began speaking. “Johan. Change of plans. Dinner will be on the Palace’s terrace. Please make the appropriate arrangements and cancel our existing reservation.” A clear voice responded, “Certainly, sir. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Malik let go of the intercom button. I hadn’t been able to see the driver due to a privacy screen that had been in place the entire time I was in the car. My eyes widened. “What did you just do?” Malik simply smiled. It was gentle and kind and did weird things to my heart rate. “You will find, Gabriella, that if there is a woman on my arm or in my company, I will do whatever is necessary to see her desires fulfilled.” His voice had deepened by the time he finished the sentence. My heartbeat went more erratic. All I did was mention stars. And I racked my brain for a restaurant called the Palace Terrace but came up empty. Still, whatever he was doing, he seemed to think it would please me. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice thick with unease and surprise. — “Your home is called the Palace?” I asked with wide-eyed wonder as the car pulled into a wide, curved drive. Not that I didn’t get why. It was massive, with peaks, gables, and gray stone that gave it the appearance of a castle. His home must sit on acres. I couldn’t see another home or even a streetlight anywhere in the vicinity as we drove up his driveway. I realized that I hadn’t seen any for several minutes before that. But there was one thing I clearly saw as my eyes scanned around me after he assisted me out of the car. Millions of things, actually. Stars. Millions of bright lights danced all over the sky and my stomach fluttered and flipped. Then it did the strange warm, flipping thing again when he guided me toward his house. “Some of my men took to calling it that when it was my father’s place, and the name stuck.” I nodded, only barely listening to him. My eyes flickered between the house and the sky and I was so overwhelmed that I almost felt the need to stop and catch my breath. Without much fanfare, he opened the front door and ushered me in. He continued guiding me, a gentle hand at the small of my back, through his house. I could barely take in the opulence as I got small, fleeting glances, but everything I saw screamed rich and fabulous and money in an incredibly elegant way. Much like my own home. These men not only had power, they had class, despite the fact they ran the seedy underbelly of Detroit and other cities in neighboring states. The thought, the reminder, was heady and I almost stumbled over my own feet. Trying to hide my discomfort, I blurted, “Did your wife decorate this house?”

Malik’s jaw went tight, and an indescribable mixture of pain and fury boiling in his onyx eyes made me look away. Clearly I had blurted out the wrong thing. “Sorry,” I muttered quickly. “I’m so sorry.” I was going to apologize again when Malik reached for a sliding glass door, opening it without a sound. The cool breeze that billowed in helped me breathe again. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. I only knew his wife died approximately five years ago, but it was clearly still a sensitive topic. Silently, I cursed my brain to filter malfunction. The horrific energy continued to pulse off of him while he led me to a beautifully decorated outside dining area on his covered patio. Small, twinkling white lights were wound around wood beams and through an overhead trellis. The table had been set with china and crystal, and there was a set of candles in the center of the table. They were well-used, all melted at different heights and, combined with the glitter of the lights, they created an incredibly romantic setting. My pulse leaped inside my chest as I took my seat. Behind me, Malik pushed my chair in. I fought for more words to apologize, to get us over my fumble while he sat down in the seat across from me. His square jaw, completely free from any hint of stubble, was still flexed tightly and his hands fidgeted with the silverware before he finally pulled his eyes up and landed them straight on me. I swallowed, so unsure of what was to come when it seemed as if he was fighting to relax. “No one speaks of her anymore.” Blinking rapidly, I—again—stupidly said, “Why?” Gah! Shut up. I reached for a glass of ice water and took a large sip. Perhaps I could choke on an ice cube and die. With a heavy sigh, Malik looked away from me into the darkness of his yard behind me. I felt him go to another world as his eyes glassed over and his features softened. Even at fortythree, his attractiveness was certainly undeniable. I had only vague memories of his wife, when she had accompanied him to events I was allowed to attend or dinners at my house. I remembered she was beautiful and refined, with a hand always on Malik’s forearm and a smile that seemed more slick and calculating than warm and loving. But it wasn’t for me to judge someone else’s relationship when I’d had so few of my own. “Analise passed in her sleep, in our bed, of unexplainable causes.” I gasped and my fingers pressed against my lips. “I’m so sorry. Malik, truly, I had no idea, and I’m so sorry for bringing her up.” “Yes.” He nodded, still looking somewhat forlorn—perhaps confused that he said so much. But he quickly shook off whatever he was thinking about and smiled sadly at me. “No one speaks of her, as if she didn’t exist. I’m not angry with you, I was just surprised.” I licked my suddenly dry lips and took another sip of water. “I’d like to move on from this, if you’d like.”

His smile grew wider, slightly more genuine. “Please. Tell me about Colorado.” I normally could speak of Colorado all day long. There was so much; from the farm, to the animals, even my online college classes at CU. I knew this because yesterday, the words had flowed so easily with Tyson. But when staring into this man’s eyes, a man who still seemed sad, a little bit angry, and a whole lot intimidating, my memories simply didn’t come as easily. I fumbled through them and began telling him about working on the farm, and then watched as his expression morphed into something that appeared to be disgust. “Does your father know you were doing this?” he asked abruptly while I was in the middle of telling him about collecting eggs from the chicken coop. My head jerked back. “Well, he’s never specifically asked what I spent my time doing,” I replied, thrown by the question. “I can’t believe your father, the man he is, would want his daughter digging in dirt and doing manual labor.” The words dripped from his lips with disdain. I could only think that I was sure my father didn’t give a damn. But to say that to Malik would certainly not go over well. I was saved from having to answer at all when a server, an older woman dressed in black slacks, black shirt, and a white apron appeared on the patio. She pushed a silver cart, loaded with a bottle of wine, chilled in ice, and two dome-covered plates. Everything sparkled and gleamed in the lights and I was suddenly bothered by all of this. The show. The formality. The romance feigned for a stranger. It was all a seductive dance by Malik to secure his spot as leader by having a Mafia princess on his arm, and I realized I didn’t care if he didn’t like what I spent my time doing. I didn’t care if he found me acceptable. As he thanked the server, a woman whose name I didn’t catch because I wasn’t introduced to her, as if either she—or I—was insignificant, I forced my lip not to curl when he spoke to her in Italian. Based on his accent, and his fluency with the language, it was clear he had lived there at some point in his life and for quite a while. Still, it annoyed me. It felt as if he was brushing me off by not even attempting to include me in a conversation. She strolled from the patio and, in an effort to calm myself, I reached for the wine he poured for me. “It’s delicious,” I said, trying to get away from emotions coursing through me. This whole night was a waste of time. I no longer cared if this request was from my mother, or my father. I didn’t particularly care that this man could fill my wallet, closet, and jewelry boxes with more riches than I could possibly dream of. Through Eleanor, I had learned those things in life didn’t matter. Through my mother, I had learned that love mattered most. I blinked away the thoughts, unwilling to show my frustration and my anger. It was not a revelation that I was being used. It was simply one that hit home as I took in an elegance that was completely…not me. Not at all. My name may have been Gabriella Galecki, but I’d always

been more Blue or Ella than my given name. I fought it for the first twenty-eight years of my life, and I refused to give in now. Not when I had come so close to being able to live free. “Is the meal not acceptable to you?” Malik asked, bringing me back to the moment and the company. He gestured to my untouched plate of lobster and scallops with a knife and arched a brow. I reached for my silverware. “Sorry. Just distracted tonight.” Flashing him a smile I hoped appeared honest, I said, “My apologies.” “Forgiven.” His penetrating gaze seemed to evaluate me for several moments before he took a bite of his own meal. Between bites, he told me about his family’s history and his house. I asked appropriate questions at appropriate times, feigning interest. I became truly interested only when he told me about the gardens at the back of his house that were currently hidden in darkness. While in Colorado, I had learned to love nature and its simple beauty and majesty. But while Malik spoke, I felt apprehensive and uneasy, stuck in a chair at the most disastrous job interview. He was trying to prove himself worthy of my family and me, while at the same time, I was under interrogation to see if I was a fitting wife. A trophy wife. A sign of his strength. He was charming and smooth. I couldn’t deny that. I also believed he could have his choice of women. The fact he wanted me spoke volumes. He was raised in a family similar to mine, where impressions and perceptions were more important than what was hidden behind the veil, what was spoken in private rooms. He was willing to do anything to get what he wanted, which was success, money, and more power and more influence. I wanted a home and a family and a career I was proud of. “Dinner was delicious,” I said when I’d finished not only my entire plate but also a small plate of tiramisu that was deposited in front of me while he spoke of gardens and hedges. “And the view here is truly lovely.” “I hope you will return again, see the land during the day. I have no doubt you’ll be impressed.” I was sure I would be. If I had any intention of stepping foot inside the house again. Yet, because of my deeply ingrained manners, I found myself saying, “Thank you for this. The stars are lovely out here, out of the city.” “It’s my pleasure, Gabriella.” I forced myself to maintain a smile while at the same time I tried to figure out how the evening could end without risking blatantly offending the man. I needed time to figure out how to walk away without pissing off my father, Rilotti, and my mother at the same time. Fortunately for me, his phone beeped on the table, illuminating the screen with an incoming call. Malik glanced down, scowled, and then pushed it to the side. “You can answer if you must,” I said politely. With an almost sheepish grin, Malik leaned back in his chair. “It would be rude of me. I’m sure it’s nothing.” I went to insist, only to again be cut off by more ringing. “Please.” I waved my hand in his

direction. “I’m not offended.” With a quick nod, he pushed back from his chair. “If you’ll excuse me then, for just a moment.” I returned his polite nod and reached for the bottle of wine. Then I enjoyed the crisp, fruity flavor as it hit my taste buds, listened to the crickets chirping, and reveled in being able to see the stars. The night was cloudless with the faint hint of a crescent moon near the edges of a row of trees. It was so peaceful once Malik stepped inside and I was left alone with my thoughts. My memories of Tyson. How lobster and scallops in a beautiful setting couldn’t compete with Cherry Yo-Ville. Any day of the week, I would choose yoga pants and fro-yo over cloth napkins and crystal goblets, much to my family’s dismay, and perhaps my own. “I apologize again, Gabriella,” Malik said, his voice a bit more clipped than before. “Unfortunately duty calls.” I quickly pushed back my chair. “I understand.” “If you don’t mind, I will have Johan drive you back to the hotel. I have other matters to attend to.” I smiled freely. It sounded perfect. “That will be fine, honestly, Malik.” His eyes did that calculating scan thing, and I saw only a hint of a disappointment in his glance when he reached my smile. I was too obvious. Too happy to be away from him. “Very well.” With a sweep of his arm, he gestured me ahead of him. “Thank you for a lovely evening. And hopefully there will be more to come,” he said quietly when we reached the front doors. Johan stood with his back against the door, keeping it open for me to walk through. I turned around and smiled again. “Thank you for dinner and the stars.” He leaned forward, brushed his lips across my cheeks, and whispered, “Thank you for being you.” Unfortunately, as I said my final goodbye and followed Johan to the waiting car, I didn’t think that was a compliment. I could find nothing good about me or my current position. — I was halfway back to my hotel, sitting in the back of the town car with Johan at the wheel, when I checked my phone for the first time since I’d stepped into the Apollonio Hotel lobby hours ago. I grinned, only to have it immediately falter after I read a text from the person I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. Blackbird: Client’s dinner was canceled. Can I see you? The time stamp was three hours ago, and it was too late for me to see him now. It was

almost nine and after the day I’d had, exhaustion had already begun making my eyelids heavy. Me: So sorry. Just received this and on my way home. Raincheck? I frowned when I don’t get an immediate response and then shook off the ridiculousness. Sliding the phone back into my clutch, I told myself it was no big deal. After arriving at the hotel, I gave my thanks to Johan and the valet before heading straight to my room and stripping off my fancy dress and heels. I threw on a tank top, washed my face, and brushed my teeth while my lethargy increased with every moment. By the time I finally collapsed into my bed, intent on falling asleep immediately, I was barely conscious when my phone on the nightstand began vibrating. “Hello?” I asked, my voice already sounding tired. “Did I wake you?” My lips stretched wide as I recognized Tyson’s voice. “No,” I said, quickly sitting up in bed and adjusting the pillows behind my back. “I’m awake, just tired. How was your night?” A deep sigh echoed through the phone, hitting my ears, and then doing funny things to my lower belly as it vibrated through me. “Long,” he finally said and cleared his throat. “I’d give anything to be in that room with you right now, though. Are you in bed?” “I am.” My tank top suddenly felt too hot for my skin. I imagined Tyson picturing me in the bed where he woke up that morning. The thought to invite him over flickered through my mind, but I pushed it away. It was too late. “What are you doing?” He huffed. “Packing, actually. Which is a bunch of bullshit.” “For what?” “Business trip,” he said in a harsh tone, his frustration loud and clear. “Want to tell me about it?” I asked. The heavy silence made me hesitate. “Or not,” I quickly said, and ran my hand through my hair. “Wish I could,” he murmured, “but my cases are generally confidential. Do you know what I wish for more, though?” “What?” “That I was next to you, tasting you, and inside you. I haven’t thought of anything else since I left your room this morning.” A delicious shiver rolled down my spine at his words…along with the mere thought of him doing what he suggested. My thighs pressed together and I shifted in the bed. “Wow,” I said, breathing out the word. His chuckle vibrated through the line. “Sounds like you want that.” I did. So much. I hummed my agreement—he’d left me speechless with just a thought. What would happen when he made good on that promise? “How about I call you when I get back into town?”

“Sounds good,” I murmured, still thinking of how good it felt the other night when we were together in a way that was delicious…just not enough. “Sleep well, Blue,” he whispered. “Night, Tyson.” I hung up the phone and slid under the covers. Then I fell asleep with a dreamy smile on my face and the memories of a boy who I used to love, and the man he’d become.

Chapter 9 The week slowly trudged by and I found myself falling into a mundane rhythm of waking up, getting dressed, heading to my parents’ house where I spent the day in the kitchen with Clarissa, and distractedly searching for jobs but barely finding anything I could apply for. Throughout, I knew I was distracting myself from sending texts to Tyson or reaching out to call him. I didn’t. He had made it clear he was going out of town for work. But unfortunately, I continued to be contacted by a man I was having a hard time ignoring. Flowers arrived at my hotel on Tuesday, courtesy of Malik. On Wednesday, he called to see if I would be his date to some sort of political fundraiser he was attending a week from Saturday. Seeing as how my father had already told me about it and my presence was expected, I simply told Malik that I planned to attend but would be accompanying my father since my mother was unable to this year. Malik either didn’t catch on to my complete lack of interest in him, or he simply didn’t care. Perhaps he figured my opinions didn’t matter that much, and upon further reflection, that didn’t bother me at all. Every interaction with Malik made me want to tell him, my father, and my mother to shove their matchmaking down their throats. Instead, I chose to wait until I could see Malik in person. He deserved that respect, even though none was being given to me. I was also simply missing Tyson. “I spoke to DPA this morning, Gabriella.” My father’s voice snapped me back to the present, where I was sitting in my family’s kitchen helping Clarissa prepare the afternoon luncheon for two of his business associates. I didn’t know who was coming, but I was hoping it wasn’t Malik. I might not have been interested in him, but I also didn’t want him to see me with flour in my unwashed hair. “Detroit Premier Agency?” I asked, my eyes instantly widening. It was the crème de la crème of event planning agencies. It was a small company, run mostly by the owner, Simone Pillar, and had the most exclusive client list in Detroit. My mother used them frequently. Because of its notoriety, I hadn’t even tried to apply for a job there. It was out of my league, and I was too inexperienced to do anything other than work in their mailroom. “Why?” My father walked toward me. Disappointment flared in his narrowed eyes as he took in my messy face, hair, and casual, comfortable clothing. He blinked, wiping away the disappointment. “Simone is hiring a new assistant, at least temporarily.” My jaw dropped. “And?” He had the audacity to roll his eyes, as if my impatience annoyed him. My blood began to boil. “Because you’re my daughter and for some inexplicable reason you seem to think you

want some sort of career, I gave her your name. Working with Simone would give you the experience you want, and then you can stop this foolishness.” My teeth ground together so hard I feared my molars would crack. Shaking my head and looking away, I pulled in a deep breath. “I want a career because I want to work for a living.” I stopped. He would never understand, and any more time spent discussing what I actually wanted with him was wasted breath. “And I want to find something on my own, but thank you for mentioning it.” His eyes cut to mine and narrowed. “Our name opens doors. You should consider using it for your benefit every once in a while.” In Colorado, I had paperwork, illegal, I knew, that named me as Ella Cochran. At least Cochran wasn’t made up; it’s my mother’s maiden name. It also allowed me to stay hidden, and for a brief moment when returning to Detroit, I’d wondered if I should use it when looking for jobs. The fact that I didn’t want to be hidden anymore was one of the reasons that prevented me from doing so. My father’s reminder was the other. Next to me, I felt Clarissa shift closer. Sensing her silent support boosted my confidence. “I will earn whatever position I’m given…sir,” I bit out at the last moment. I might have been confident, but I wasn’t a complete idiot. He slid a business card with a time scratched in black pen onto the countertop, all while his irritation remained clear in the tight lines around his lips. “Just see her. The job could be a gift to you or a favor to me, depending on how you look at it, but perhaps you’ll earn the spot if you’re good enough.” The backhanded compliment stung on my cheek like a well-aimed slap. He spun on his heels and left the room as quietly as he arrived, leaving me fuming. “Damn him.” I slapped my hands on the countertop. Flour from the pie crusts we’d been making wafted into the air, and I sneezed as it hit my nose. “He cares, bella. He just doesn’t know how to show it correctly.” Did he? I was beginning to wonder. As a teenager, I could write off his attitude as a reaction to my teenage angst. But the more I was around him now, the more I was beginning to believe the man simply didn’t have a soul. “Not keeping me away from my family would have been a start, or I don’t know…not shoving a man in front of me when I don’t want him…or I don’t know, not belittling my desire to have a simple freaking job.” I huffed and then wiped a hand across my forehead. He didn’t care about me, only about what I could do for him when it suited him. Reality was a bitter pill to swallow, and I felt tears sting my nose. All my life, I had tried to please him and make him proud of me. All my life I’d been groomed to be the kind of woman who would stand on the arm of a man like Malik and smile, all while hiding secrets of deals I never wanted to know about. Monday night I had seen a small glimpse into that world as an adult and it proved to me exactly what I’d known for years. I wasn’t like them. I didn’t want to be like them. “I do not agree with him,” Clarissa whispered, resting her hand on my shoulder. I reached up and covered her hand with mine, giving her a gentle squeeze. Her touch and quiet words

calmed me slightly. “But do not forget that he, too, is under much stress right now. He cares, someday you will see.” I swallowed tears that wanted to form, refusing to show emotion. “Are we done with the blueberry filling?” I asked, changing the subject. Clarissa gave me that play, squeezing my shoulder once more before turning toward the stove. While we finished the pies, we discussed the weather, fashion, and the gardens out back that were blooming beautifully. I listened while she instructed me on how to make her homemade marinara sauce, only laughing when she still refused to share her “secret magic herbs” that were, no joke, in a spice jar with that exact label printed on it and nothing else. We were just removing the finished pies from the oven and cleaning the kitchen tables when the doorbell rang, announcing that my father’s associates had arrived. I took a quick scan of my body and saw I was essentially ghostly pale thanks to my inability to stay clean while baking—or cooking—and cringed. I debated hiding from whomever may be arriving when I heard footsteps headed in our direction. Then they stopped. “Gabriella?” the familiar, masculine voice asked. I blushed ten shades of pink before I turned to face Malik. “Hello,” I lifted my hand in a limp wave. If the flour could have swallowed me whole, I would have been thrilled. I watched as his eyes dipped and scanned my body. His lips twitched, fighting a smile, but it broke through when he met my timid and embarrassed gaze. “You’re a wreck,” he stated simply. It lacked the reproof my father’s voice would have had, and I smiled despite myself. “I’m not very good at staying clean.” I blushed further at the innuendo. Behind me, I heard Clarissa’s soft chuckle, and I looked away from him. I could hear him approach, though, and I stiffened when his hand rested on my hip. Perhaps I should have made a sign announcing my desire for personal space. He clearly had no issue stepping over appropriate boundaries. “It’s good to see you, Gabriella,” he murmured and then brushed his lips against my cheekbone. “I’ve thought about you.” I swallowed thickly, unable to respond. Mostly because there was no polite response, none that would also be truthful, I could offer him. Licking my lips, I turned toward him, forcing him to drop his hand from my hip. “I didn’t expect you here today.” “It was a last minute decision. Something has come up that your father thinks I should be made aware of.” He glanced at his watch and back to me. “I should get to his office, I just wanted to see you first. But I’ll still see you next Saturday, correct?” “Mmhmm,” I muttered when his hand reached out and brushed against mine on the counter. He didn’t hold it, just ran his fingertips down the back of my hand before he stepped back. The man was magnetic and attractive. He also knew how to turn a woman on, which was obvious by the pulsing I experienced in places I would rather have not in front of him. It couldn’t be helped, though. Yet beyond that, I felt nothing for him but physical appreciation. “Saturday,” he said, nodding in my direction as he approached the doorway. “Saturday,” I repeated, and watched him disappear around the corner.

“Well, now that is a man who knows how to please a woman,” Clarissa said, her voice full of mirth. I couldn’t deny her words, I simply didn’t want to be the one he wanted to please. “I’m not interested. Not really.” “I know, my dear. But perhaps before you let him know that, you can get some of what he’s good at first.” “Clarissa!” I cried, laughing at the same time. She was a scandalous old woman and I absolutely loved her for it. “What?” She shrugged. “It is the twenty-first century. Women in my day couldn’t say that, much less enjoy the thought of it, but if you want your freedom so badly…go for it.” I didn’t entertain the thought longer, even though I couldn’t stop laughing at the crazy woman. Shaking my head, I wiped my hands clean on a towel. “That would only send mixed signals and who knows, if I were to enjoy…as you might say,” she flashed me a wink and I laughed again, “my father would pull out some archaic rule that says then we must marry, or something similar.” “True. The reward might not be bigger than the risk.” I flashed her a look and whispered, “But I bet it’s big.” Her eyes widened at my joke, and then she smacked my hip with a towel. “Go on with you. Get out of here before I don’t know what to do with you anymore besides lock you in your room.” I backed up, putting up my hands palms out. “I’m gone, I’m gone.” “And go have fun. You’re young.” She shouted the last words just as I walked out of the kitchen and headed toward the front door. I shook my head again, thankful that even with the interruption from my dad and Malik that I got to spend the day with Clarissa. I hadn’t laughed so hard in a long time, and I couldn’t deny that her parting shot was absolutely true. I was still young. I should be out having fun. And there was only one person who I wanted to have fun with. My lips twisted as I realized how pathetic that was. Then I pushed that thought to the back because, despite the fact that I really wanted to hear from Tyson, I still had the business card from my dad. While I might not have wanted to use my family connection to get a job, I’d be a fool for dismissing an opportunity like this one. So at least something good had come out of my trip home. I was just pulling out of my parents’ driveway onto the main road when my phone began ringing from its place in the cup holder. Without looking, I grabbed it, unlocked it, and answered. “Hello?” I pulled over to the shoulder and grinned as soon as Tyson replied with, “On a scale of one to ten, how pissed are you that I haven’t called yet?” Zero. With that lead-in, I had no reason to be upset. I answered, “You can make it up to me by taking me to dinner tonight. That is, if you’re back in town.” “I am.” He sighed through the phone. “Do you know Latham Hills? I’ll be working late, but I can meet you there. I’ve got a buddy who owns the Fireside Grill and I have been meaning

to check it out.” Latham Hills, exactly where I had an appointment for later in the week to go see an apartment. I grinned into the phone. “Sounds perfect. What time?” “Seven?” I nodded and my grin widened. “Perfect. See you then, Blackbird.” He chuckled at my use of his nickname. I felt that chuckle slide through me and down to my thighs. “Later, Bluejay.” He disconnected. I tossed the phone back into my cup holder. And then I pulled back onto the road and drove to my hotel with a smile so wide on my face that my cheeks started hurting. But I didn’t care. I didn’t stop smiling. — On the northern edge of Detroit, Latham Hills was once—decades ago—where the wealthiest of the wealthy created their homes in massive mansions and on abundances of acreage. When I was a child, my mother and father fought for months about moving to the Hills, as so many of her socialite friends had done, but my father refused to give up his ancestral home in Detroit. While I understood where he was coming from, I also understood the pull the area had on my mother. With its lush green lawns and room to roam, Latham Hills was probably the closest my mother ever thought she’d get to living back on a farm in Colorado. The few main streets the area had were paved in cobblestone. Peace and a sense of safety radiated off the pedestrians as they strolled along tree-lined sidewalks. Couples held hands, smiling lightly and freely, and younger parents pushed their children in jogging strollers, making it seem like enjoying the outdoors was a way of life. It felt so different in the city, just fifteen minutes away, where the area hadn’t yet fully recovered from the recent economic collapse and so many people were still struggling. Young people were leaving in droves, and crime was on the rise. By the looks of what I saw in Latham Hills, they had made their way north to boutiques, local restaurants, coffee shops, and consignment stores, making the area more chic and trendy now. I didn’t see a single franchise while I drove through the small downtown area, looking for a parking spot. I had fallen in love before I even saw the red awning with The Fireside Grill printed plainly and boldly in black text, decorated with two small flames. After parking, I scanned the area and took in the freshness and vitality of everything I saw. Inhaling deeply, I savored the freshest air I’d breathed since leaving Colorado. It seemed as if Latham Hills had a bubble around its borders that protected it from the harshness of the city. The short walk back to Fireside Grill was wonderful; it was the best I’d felt in over a week. Because of that, my smile was wide and easy when I pulled open the door to the restaurant. The reason for the name was obvious as I entered the restaurant: the outside looked like a renovated old-fashioned firehouse with Engine Co. 1 etched into the cream cement blocks above the outside awning. But it was the inside that made me gasp. All along the rich, dark wooden walls of the entire restaurant were various types of firefighter equipment. It wasn’t done in a trashy man-cave sort of way, but more like it was

meant to preserve the history of the building that used to claim this corner restaurant as home. Vintage firefighter axes and hoses, suits and helmets, and countless photos of groups of men—who I assumed were former Company One firefighters—decorated the expanse of the walls and tables. Interspersed among the history, including photos from the black-andwhite photography era and rich and professional looking digital photos, were dozens of televisions. They showed a range of sporting events, from football to baseball and even hockey although it was still the off-season. But Michiganders loved their hockey. I wasn’t surprised at all to see ESPN Classics replaying a Stanley Cup Final from what looked to have been the mid-eighties on several of the large screens. The entire restaurant held an inviting and warm atmosphere for families and friends to gather around the tables and booths and share a meal, but it was also a fun and entertaining place to go to watch a good ball game. “Can I help you?” I smiled at the hostess, Emily—based on her nametag—and quickly took in her easy appearance. Black polo shirt with Fireside Grill emblazoned over the right side of her chest, screen-printed with small flames, and simple jeans made her seem as casual and comfortable as the rest of the area. The whole atmosphere made me envision girls’ night out with not-yetmade friends and drinks after work. I smiled politely. “I’m meeting someone, but I don’t think he’s here yet.” She reached for two menus. “You must be Blue.” I jerked my head back in surprise. She simply waved for me to follow her. “Tyson told me to expect you. He’s in the back right now speaking with Declan, but he told me to seat you as soon as you arrived and then let him know you’re here.” I followed her quick steps and slid into a booth, taking the side that would give me the best view of the restaurant. She set the menus on the table. Her hand brushed along the edge and with her same easy and tender smile, she nodded again. “I’ll go let him know. Would you like some water?” “Yes. Please. And thank you.” I didn’t reach for the menu right away, and instead continued to take in the restaurant with a slow, lazy perusal. Something about this place made my heart beat slower than it had in days. It felt as if the entryway into this dark but warm sports bar had the ability to melt away the stress of everyday life with a simple step inside. I had relaxed further into my seat and opened the menu when two metal doors to what I assumed led to the kitchen swung open. Tyson stepped through and I watched him take a quick look around the open area, before heading directly toward me. Behind him, another man followed at a slower pace. I quickly noted that the other man was wearing a slightly stained apron over a plain black T-shirt that was bursting at the seams around his biceps, and well-worn jeans frayed at the knees. But it was his slightly tanned, olive-toned skin, shaved head, and deep dark eyes that almost made me want to kneel in his presence. He was massive. If this man didn’t meet the definition of tall, dark, and dangerous, no one would. “You made it,” Tyson said, his deep voice pulling my gaze away from the man behind him.

I stood from the booth and worried my bottom lip with my teeth. “I did.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me to him. I melted into his embrace when his lips brushed against my temple before he set me back. I was still a bit woozy from the kiss and his touch and the smell of him when he gestured to the big man behind him. “Blue, I’d like you meet Declan. He was on the football team with me at Central U.” I caught a glint of something in his eyes. Then the dark look quickly disappeared and Declan stepped forward with one hand held toward me. “Declan James. Nice to meet you.” I shook his large hand and returned his smile. “Blue Galecki.” “Declan owns Fireside,” Tyson reminded me. “Opened it just over three years ago.” “I love it. It’s beautiful and perfect.” Declan’s expression dimmed at my review, and I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing. Perhaps men who looked like they could lift cars with their bare hands and eat bolts for breakfast didn’t appreciate the word beautiful being used to describe something. “I should get back to it,” he said, his voice now abrupt. “It was nice to meet you, Blue. Dinner tonight is on the house.” “Dec—,” Tyson started, but Declan interrupted him. “Shut the hell up, Ty. What good is owning a place if I can’t do a favor for friends?” A silent conversation flashed in their eyes before I stepped in. “Thank you, that’s very kind.” Next to me, Tyson relaxed and gave in, ending an unspoken argument from becoming a spoken one. Declan grinned, a mouth full of perfectly straight teeth flashed as he nodded and began to turn away. “Like this one, Ty. She listens.” I snorted. Hardly. I didn’t have time to debunk that myth before his back was to us, and instead of the slow jaunt he’d made into the restaurant, he hurried back to the kitchen. “He’s having a hard time,” Tyson said, tugging my hand and refocusing my attention on him. “With what?” He shook his head and gestured for me to sit. I slid into the booth and instead of sitting across from me, Tyson followed me. “Expecting company?” I asked, gesturing with a nod toward the other side. “No. But I missed you and want to be close to you.” Warmth suffused my insides at his direct and honest admission. “Well then,” I huffed lightly, and slid both menus in front of us, “who am I to argue with that?” Tyson chuckled and scanned his own menu. When the server, Tara, appeared, we quickly placed our order, me ordering a steak quesadilla and margarita because Tara promised me it was the best in the state. Tyson ordered a buffalo cheeseburger that sounded incredible, but how could it not when the first thing in the description was “piled high with massive amounts of bacon and fried onions.”

Once our orders were placed, and I was served a margarita almost the size of my head, I found Tara had been truthful. The margarita was delicious. The perfect balance of sour and sweet. Tyson took a sip of his Shock Top ale and put it back on the table before turning to me in the booth. “I did miss you,” he repeated, his voice soft and husky. I swallowed slowly, emotion quickly clogging my throat. I couldn’t tell by his soft expression if he meant the last decade, or the last week. I decided not to ask and leaned in when the backs of his fingers dragged seductively across my cheekbone. He turned his hand, cupping my jaw in his large and warm palm. Before I could stop myself, I whispered, “I missed you, too.” And I knew without a doubt, that I meant absolutely all of it.

Chapter 10 My belly was stuffed full of delicious quesadilla and I was only slightly tipsy from the margarita. I pushed my plate away, blowing breath out through my cheeks, hoping it would allow more room in my stomach. I should have worn yoga pants. Tyson and I had eaten and laughed. We talked about nothing and everything and my cheeks ached from all the smiling I did over the last hour. The years apart hadn’t seemed to change anything in regard to how I felt about him. With Tyson sitting across from me, both of us slightly turned so we faced each other in the booth, I still felt the same familiar thrill course through my body whenever his fingers grazed my skin—accidental or otherwise. “You haven’t talked much about your job,” I said and took a sip of my ice water. That margarita was delicious, but I forced myself to stop after one. “There isn’t much to say.” “What type of law do you practice?” He hesitated. I barely caught it, but when he chewed the inside of his cheek before answering, I felt my back straighten as I pulled back from him. “My grandfather does mostly general practice. A little bit of everything, really. Mostly estate planning.” Given the clientele in Latham Hills, it made sense. Most of them would need estateplanning lawyers. But that wasn’t what had him suddenly peeling at the corner of the label on the bottle of beer. “What aren’t you telling me, Tyson?” I tried not to be distracted when he brought his bottle to his lips and swallowed. It was the second time he hesitated to answer my questions, and I felt my hackles rise. “I specialized in criminal law,” he finally said, his voice low. “And?” Based on his anger at my father and what Tyson believed my father did to Tyson’s dad, criminal law seemed like something he’d naturally fall into. He always was a protector. And a fighter. “That’s not a problem? That my job is to prosecute criminals?” I sucked in a breath and leaned farther back until I was leaning against the wood wall behind me. “Wow.” I sighed and my eyes grew large. “I’m not my father, Tyson.” Silence permeated the small space between us. The earlier ease of the conversation evaporated and I shook my head, blowing out a slow breath. “What are we doing?” I asked, my voice suddenly dry and barely above a whisper. I reached for my water only to realize my hands were trembling. I swallowed thickly, emotion clogging my throat at the thought. Tyson leaned forward and set his hand over mine on the table. Squeezing, he said, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you on that plane. I want to give this—give us

—a shot now that we found each other again. But…you know who your dad is, Blue.” As if I needed the reminder. I’d lived it every day of my life. Hated it for as long as I could understand. But his reminder stung deep. Like he was giving me a choice between him and my family. I didn’t like the feeling of an ultimatum. But I really liked hearing him telling me he wanted us to be together. Just not like that. “And?” The back of my eyes began to sting. “Will you ever see me separate from him?” His chin dipped and his voice deepened. “Being with me means understanding that I’m not and will never be on his side.” I shifted in my seat, wishing I could slide right off the bench and out the front door. This night had taken an unexpected, unwelcome turn. Licking my lips, I could barely whisper, “I guess I was hoping you’d be on my side.” I pulled my lips to the side and inhaled, fighting the tears that were still burning my eyes. I couldn’t even tell you why. It seemed something wonderful was happening, but it also happened to be mixed with something horrible. “I am.” His hand slid along my cheek until it curved around the back of my neck. He turned me toward him and with seriousness in his eyes, he repeated, “I am. I’ve always been on your side, Blue. Always.” “I understand,” I murmured, leaning toward the loose grip he had on me. I pressed my lips to his palm, keeping my eyes on him. “But I still don’t see why my father is an issue right now, Tyson. Not with your work.” His hand on my cheek flinched, and he looked away. “It’s not, now,” Tyson muttered. “It’s just that we grew up in families on opposite sides of the law. I don’t want to be separated again because of it.” My heart ached. I didn’t agree with my father or his business. I would never fully understand the crime world he ruled. But I was taught loyalty. Family first, above all else. I also hated what my family stood for and had learned long ago that finding my own way, being my own person, was the only way I was ever going to be truly happy. For me, I wanted that to include Tyson. “It won’t.” I shook my head and squeezed his thigh to get his attention. “It won’t. Not again.” He leaned forward, pulling me to him until our lips pressed together and his tongue slid across mine. Then, he deepened the kiss in a way that alluded to what he wanted. I mewled against his mouth. Acquiescing. I wanted him. “Come home with me,” he said, breaking our kiss and running his nose along the side of mine. Delicious shivers trembled down my spine as I opened my eyes and peered into his. I nodded once, unable to speak. Tyson’s grin was reward enough, the heat in his gaze unnecessary, yet welcomed. I wanted to get lost in the rich blue eyes that were only focused on me. He slid out of the booth and extended his hand. I gingerly placed my hand in his as we headed out of the restaurant. “Where’s your car?” I asked, looking along the street.

“I walked.” “You live around here?” “About two blocks away. Should we take your car? I don’t want to leave it here overnight.” Overnight. I couldn’t help the grin that stretched my lips. “A forgone conclusion, am I?” Tyson’s answering chuckle made my stomach flip. “Just consider me hopeful.” “Well, Mr. Hopeful.” I pulled my keys out of my small clutch and spun them in the air. “How about you take the wheel, then?” — It only was a couple of minutes until we pulled into a short driveway. I jolted a bit in surprise when I saw the small ranch house and one-car garage in front of me. I’d just assumed he’d live in an apartment building, but apparently, that was not the case. “This is yours?” “Yup.” He spun my keys once before handing them to me. “Got a good deal, and I don’t like feeling caged in large buildings. Let’s go in and I’ll give you the tour.” I glanced at the front of his house before returning to Tyson as he climbed out of my small compact car, looking too large for the space. It almost made me chuckle as he unfolded his long legs. I opened my door and met him at the front. When I reached him, he took my hand and led me toward the front door, up a small sidewalk lined with hostas layered with what looked like fresh mulch. While he unlocked the front door, my gaze roamed the small street. All of the houses were small but well maintained. The trees were so large they provided a canopy over the narrow street. I imagined the way that street would look come fall when the maples turned shades of orange and yellow and red and fallen leaves blanketed the narrow street. “I like it already,” I said, my voice a bit wistful. Tyson opened the door and with his hand on the small of my back guided me inside. We entered a small living area. A gray sectional took up almost the entire space and, besides the television mounted above the fireplace, there was no other furniture in the room. A small stack of boxes stood in one corner. It would be obvious to anyone who entered that not only was Tyson a bachelor, but he had also recently moved in. He flipped light switches on as he stepped around me and headed toward what I assumed was the kitchen. “It’s not much,” he said, just as he disappeared behind a corner. “But like I said, I got a great deal on rent and I sort of like the little place.” I dropped my purse on the couch and followed his voice. The kitchen made me catch my breath. Its gleaming white cupboards and black marble countertop had obviously been completely updated recently. “It’s perfect,” I murmured, gliding my hand across the cool surface. “Would you like something to drink?” I glanced up and saw Tyson’s gaze locked on me. I shook my head and watched as his gaze dropped to my lips where I had, again, begun sucking my bottom lip in between my teeth. “I think I’d like to finish the tour.”

His kitchen was beautiful, but small. There was little distance between us when he reached out and gently plucked my lip from between my teeth with his thumb. Then he ran his thumb over my abused skin. “Nothing has to happen tonight. Nothing you don’t want.” “I want you,” I whispered. I was barely able to finish the sentence before his thumb on my lip moved to my chin. With sure, but slow movements, he tilted my head back, and his lips met mine. His kiss was firm. His lips molded to mine and sucked all the remaining breath from my lungs. I lunged forward, unable to stand on my own, and wrapped my fingers around his biceps. I held on to him while his mouth continued to do wicked things to mine. My lips parted on a quiet gasp and his tongue slid inside, rolling with mine and tasting every inch of my mouth. He tasted fresh, and I needed more. I leaned farther forward, pressing my chest against his until one of his arms slid to my back, holding me against him. “Blue,” he rumbled, pulling back until our lips gently brushed against each other. “My room.” My pulse raced, my blood burned from the inside out. I took a step back and let him take my hand in his. I followed him through the living room and down the hall, passing two more doors before we entered his room. Light from the streetlamps outside cast a romantic glow over his large bed. The covers were pulled up, the bed made as if it was done hastily and without care when he rolled out of it this morning. Heat spread to the tops of my thighs and I turned slowly to face him. “Hey,” I said, my voice small and weak. Nerves assaulted me as I stared up at him. He wasn’t the only man I’d had sex with. He was just the only man I’d ever made love to. But that was ten years ago. “You look terrified,” he said and slid his hand up and around to the back of my neck. “I’m not. Just nervous.” “About this?” He nodded toward the bed. A grin full of mirth stretched his lips. “We can always go somewhere else. The wall…the shower…” A laugh burst from me and I shook my head again. “No.” I laughed again and relaxed when he joined me. “The bed is fine.” One thick, black eyebrow arched. “Just fine?” My grin matched his and I stepped toward him. “I’m sure it’ll be better than fine.” Rolling to my toes, I pressed myself closer, brushing my lips along his jaw. “I want this. Honest.” His hand on my neck tightened, and he leaned forward, instantly claiming my mouth. His other hand went to my hip and with one quick lift, I was in the air and then being lowered onto the bed. Tyson adjusted us while I pushed with my feet, shifting farther onto the bed until Tyson was directly over me. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, sliding his hand from my back to my side and up my ribs. “More beautiful than I remember.” Every time his fingers grazed my skin, heat flared, sending trails of burning need igniting in his wake. I pressed into him, desperate to be closer. To feel him. My hands slid down his back and I began pushing his shirt up and off his chest. He separated from me just long enough to grab the back of his shirt with one hand. He tugged it up and forward, flung it somewhere in

the distance, and then did the same with my shirt. His head dropped and his lips pressed against my clavicle before sliding down and toward the center of my breasts. His hand covered one of my breasts, fondling it and pinching my nipple though the satin fabric. “Tyson,” I mewled, arching into him and his touch. “Please,” I begged. “I need more.” “Patience,” he murmured. His lips trailed farther down until his tongue came out and swirled around my belly button. My stomach muscles tightened and my fingers tangled in his short black hair, holding him to me. My need grew with every gentle and teasing brush of his lips against me until his tongue slid across the waistband of my denim jeans. Goosebumps flared on my exposed skin, making me shiver. Tyson chuckled darkly and his hands began to work on my zipper. “These need to come off.” I lifted my hips to help him. My eyes stayed trained on him as he slid them off my legs and my feet, discarding them in a pile on the floor. Then he knelt at the edge of the bed, tugging me toward him until my sex was directly in front of his mouth. My breath stalled. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he muttered. “So damn long.” His tongue glided along the seam of my panties before he began pressing soft and ticklish kisses all over my inner thighs. My fingers dug into his comforter and my hips rocked toward him. He took his time with me, driving me crazy with every touch of his tongue on my sensitive flesh, sucking through my panties, teasing me along the outline of my underwear. I panted and writhed. My flesh burned. “Ready?” he asked as his fingertips curled around the edge of my panties. I gazed at him through heavy lids, unable to open my eyes all the way. “Yes,” I whispered hoarsely. “Please.” He leaned forward, ran his lips across the edge of my panties one more time before his hands twisted the white lace. With a firm tug, the lace tore, digging into my hips and causing a riot of sensations with the slight hint of pain. My jaw dropped. “You just tore my underwear.” His eyes narrowed on mine, a teasing glint barely noticeable in the dark room. “You’ll forgive me.” And I did. Immediately. Because he didn’t give me time to argue before he dipped his head and slid his tongue through my wet and quivering folds. I groaned loudly, rolling my hips closer to him as he tasted me with utter abandon. He gripped me tighter and held me to his mouth as he took his pleasure, while at the same time, giving me mine. “Tyson,” I moaned, and my thighs began to tremble. “I’m going to come.” He grunted his approval. My fingernails dug into the covers beneath me and I threw my head back into the mattress, screaming his name when my orgasm barreled through me.

“Yes!” I cried out, as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through my entire body. Everything tingled, from my teeth to the tips of my toes while he continued fucking me with his tongue, wringing every ounce of climax out of my pulsing flesh. Slowly dropping my legs, he rose to his full height above me. With my heart racing, I lifted my hands in the air and beckoned him to me. “Come here,” I whispered with a gravelly voice. My body still trembled, the waves of my orgasm still lingering even though he wasn’t touching me. Something dark flashed in his eyes and he blinked twice, clearing whatever I saw. Then his hands went to his belt and he quickly undid his zipper. “I told myself I was going to wait,” he whispered into the darkness. “I don’t think I can.” Indecision flared in his gaze again before it vanished. With deft movements, he dropped his jeans, grabbing a condom wrapper out of his jeans pocket as they fell. His boxers dropped with his jeans and my mouth fell open. His body was perfect. Chiseled and defined in the best of places. My still throbbing center began to quiver as he wrapped his hand around the base of his thick shaft. He tugged and pulled on it, standing like a sentry at the edge of his bed. His gaze roamed all over my body before he dragged his eyes to meet mine. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He planted a knee onto the bed and brought his body over mine. I pushed back, giving him room and we adjusted ourselves so his knees spread wide on the bed and he draped my thighs open over his. I arched my back, quickly worked to remove my bra, and tossed the offending fabric away. As I flung it to the side of the bed, Tyson’s gaze followed it, a hint of a smirk on his twisted lips. “I have wanted to be with you again since the moment I first saw you.” The words fell from his lips as if he didn’t want to admit them. His brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t want to hurt you.” “Then don’t.” “You’ve always been so special to me, Blue,” he whispered again and leaned over me. Our tongues tangled together with passion and desire. My core began warming all over again as he sheathed himself. Then he leaned back to his knees, grabbed my hip with one hand, and lined up his erection to my opening. I gasped as the tip of him entered me, then he grabbed onto both of my hips and pulled me forward, filling me in one, quick thrust. My head fell back and I groaned at the sensation. So thick. So hot. I was making love to Tyson Blackwell after a decade of missing him. He gave me time to adjust to his size before he began moving. “Holy shit,” I muttered, running my hands up and down his back. “You feel incredible.” He leaned forward and pressed a harsh kiss to my lips. My mouth opened and I gasped into his mouth as his hips begin to rock, pulling out and pushing in, hitting the end of me with every fevered thrust. “Tyson,” I gasped and dug my fingers into his skin. It wasn’t long before I could feel another climax begin to burn inside of me. He felt so good, and his quick and powerful thrusts forced me to hang on to him. My legs wrapped around his hips and my hands dug into his back. “Blue,” he groaned, pulling his mouth from my skin to murmur my name. Our breaths mingled together and our gazes locked as we continued to move. This connection we had

terrified me. I couldn’t pull my eyes off him and I didn’t want to. We were connected in every way. The sounds of our flesh and our fevered gasps filled the room. The air thickened and I clung to him as my orgasm began to crest. Shivers danced down my overly heated skin and I cried out his name, holding on to him for dear life. “Fuck,” he groaned. His hips moved faster and harder, pressing into me as if he wanted to bury himself as deep as possible. “Tyson!” “Shit. Blue…” He stretched my name out on a groan and thrust himself inside me one more time. I felt his erection pulse deep inside my walls. His own orgasm pulled him over the cliff and he collapsed on top of me. Our foreheads pressed together, I wrapped my arms around his back, sliding up and down his sweat-lined skin while we waited for our breathing to regulate. I needed to catch my breath. I needed to do that again. Sex with Tyson at eighteen was wonderful. Sex with Tyson at twenty-eight was indescribable. “You okay?” he asked, pulling back from me. I smiled lightly. “That was incredible.” His lips pressed against mine. “That was perfect.” His hand slid through my hair and he took his time pushing off me. With another quick kiss, he pulled out of me and rolled off the bed. “I’ll be right back. I just need to get cleaned up.” I muttered something indecipherable and adjusted myself so I was under the covers when he returned. He didn’t say a word as he walked back into the room and climbed into the bed on the other side. “Do you still want me to stay?” I asked, rolling over to face him. In all my years of dating, the after-sex part had always left me slightly more nervous than the actual sex part. Stay? Leave? Be clingy or aloof? Dating was impossible to figure out. I didn’t want to screw it up with Tyson. With a soft chuckle, he wrapped his arm around my waist and tugged me to him until my head rested against his chest. “You’re not going anywhere, anytime soon.” His hand tightened on my waist, proving his point. “Okay,” I whispered, pressing my lips to his chest. I loved his body. I loved that while his chest was defined and firm, he wasn’t overly bulky. I loved the smattering of prickly hair that fell over each pec and then in a thin trail down the center of his abs, thickening before it disappeared beneath the waistband of his boxers. I couldn’t help but run my fingers through it. “Tyson?” I asked. “Hmm.” I pressed my lips against his chest again. “I had a really great time tonight.” His low laughter reverberated against my cheek while he laughed. “Me too, Blue. Me too.” I closed my eyes and fell asleep to the feel of his chest, his skin, and the memory of what it felt like to make love to Tyson. And I knew that no matter what my parents wanted for me…

Now was the time for me to follow my own heart. Regardless of what it cost me.

Chapter 11 I opened my eyes and was immediately assaulted by bright sunlight filtering through the open windows. “Ugh,” I groaned and rolled over, wiping the haze of sleep from my eyes and my brain. Next to me, Tyson’s side of the bed was empty and I frowned. The door to the bathroom was open, proving he wasn’t there, so I slid out of bed and used the facilities before swiping my teeth with toothpaste I found lying on his counter. I didn’t want to rifle through his bathroom drawers, so I did what I could to make myself look presentable, using a tissue and cold water to wipe mascara away from beneath my eyes. Back in his bedroom, I grabbed his T-shirt from last night that was lying on his floor. Halfdressed, I laughed when I saw my shredded underwear at the end of the bed. I couldn’t believe he tore my underwear off. I couldn’t believe I liked it. With a smile stretching my lips, I opened the door to his bedroom, intent on finding him. When I caught the smell of coffee and the sound of bacon grilling, I immediately headed in that direction. I stopped as I entered the small kitchen. He had his back to me. A mug of coffee in one hand, kitchen tongs in another. He was dressed only in the boxers from the previous night as he flipped the bacon and sipped from his mug. “Good morning,” I said and slowly moved toward the coffee pot. Tyson’s head jerked, and he turned to look at me in surprise. “I missed you this morning.” He gestured toward the skillet. “I was making you breakfast in bed.” “Well,” I muttered teasingly, “that takes the sting out of waking up alone.” His deep, rich laugh filled the room. I loved that sound. He had never been a guy who was quick to laugh. More slow to speak, quick to listen. His burst of laughter made me smile wider as I filled my cup with coffee and hopped onto the counter to watch him cook. I couldn’t remember the last time a guy cooked me breakfast. That tingle of arousal began to blossom at the apex of my thighs as I watched him work swiftly and confidently. “You’re so hot,” I blurted. Tyson turned away from the skillet after removing the bacon and plating it. “I am?” he asked and sauntered to me. A heated blush hit my cheeks, but I tried to act nonchalant. “Yup.” With a smirk, he reached out and rested his hands on my knees and then began sliding them up my thighs, pushing his shirt up with it. Well aware that I was naked beneath his shirt, I fought the urge to hide myself as Tyson watched the movements of his hands. He stopped when they were low on my hips, his thumbs brushing along the crease of my thighs. “Hmmm…,” he murmured. His already dark-blue eyes darkened he looked down at my legs.

“I think you’re hot.” I chuckled softly and set my coffee mug down on the counter. “Do you know how much I want you?” I shook my head, unable to speak. His touches left me speechless. His lust-filled gazes left me breathless. “All the time.” He leaned forward until his lips brushed against my ear. “Every second of every day.” He pushed against me, pulling me to him, until his erection pressed against my already wet center. “Should I prove it to you?” he whispered. I wanted him to prove it. Again. And again. And again. I opened my mouth to tell him when my stomach rumbled loudly. “Maybe after I feed you,” Tyson said, stepping back. His hands left my hips, and I laughed when our eyes met. “Killed the moment, did I?” “Not at all.” He reached into a cupboard next to me and pulled out two plates. Then he winked. “I need you to have energy for later.” I stuck my tongue out at him, teasing him, while he served our food and then took a seat at one of the barstools at the counter. He didn’t have a kitchen table so we dug in right there and quietly talked about our day and what we had to do. I was in middle of telling him about my job hunt and apartment search, hesitating on whether or not I should tell him that Latham Hills was at the top of my neighborhood list, when his eyebrows snapped together and the room chilled. His jaw tightened and sharp lines darted out from the outer edges of eyes as he glared at something over my shoulder. I followed his glare to the television screen that had been on, but on mute, ever since I entered the room. Photos of three young women were on the screen along with a red banner beneath them that read “Breaking News: Another reported disappearance of a young blond woman.” My heart pumped a beat faster when Tyson jumped up from the stool and darted to the couch in the living room where he picked up a remote and turned up the volume. “This is the fourth disappearance in less than ten days. All the women were reported missing by their parents when they failed to return home after curfew. The last-known whereabouts of Cilia Metzer, the most recent female victim, was Harrison Street, two blocks from her home. It was reported that she was walking home from a friend’s house—” “Fuck.” Tyson cursed and punched a button on the remote. The screen went black and my eyes went wide. “Tyson?” I waited for him to respond as he threw his hand to his forehead and scrubbed down his face. “What is it?” I asked again. A sinking feeling hit my gut as he exhaled and his head fell forward. “Nothing,” he finally said, shaking his head. He tossed the remote onto the couch and walked toward his spot at the counter. “Do you know them?”

“Eat, Blue.” He picked up his fork, speared his eggs and shoved them into his mouth. “Is it a case you’re working on?” I prodded when he still didn’t look at me after several more bites. I couldn’t explain the tension in the room or the chill in the air. What else could have caused such a visceral reaction in him? He licked his lips and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. I watched, still stunned and even more confused, as he swung his legs off the stool and went to the kitchen. He flung the refrigerator door open so hard it crashed into the wall, making me jump at the sudden noise. “Fucking hell,” he muttered and reached for a white carton of orange juice. The fridge door slammed shut, a kitchen cupboard was flung open, making the same banging sound the fridge had made moments before, and two glasses were slammed onto the countertop. I watched the whole thing, jaw slack and eyes wide, when he snapped his head up. His glare chilled the room further. “Want some juice?” I shook my head. I wasn’t thirsty. I was no longer hungry. He didn’t react to my answer, just filled a glass, slammed it back with one large gulp, and then repeated the same moves again with the slamming of the fridge door when he returned the carton. “I think I’m just going to head out,” I muttered, slinking off the stool when he prowled closer. He looked ready to brawl, and I didn’t know what to do, what to say, but whatever had made him so angry, I wasn’t the person he wanted to talk to about it. Chewing the inside of my lip, I went to move around him when his hand curled around my forearm and stopped me. “It has to do with a case, that’s all I can say.” I blinked at his hand on my arm and then forced myself to meet his eye. He was looking at the counter, not me. “Can’t talk about my cases, Blue.” Of course he couldn’t. That made sense. But I was also getting the sense that something else was at play, something bigger and something darker. Something I didn’t want any part of. “Okay,” I whispered, and his grip on my arm finally loosened enough so I could walk away from him. “But I do need to get going.” He said nothing as I left the room and went to his bedroom to get dressed. But I felt my steps grow heavier with every step I took. — I saw a shadow appear in the doorway before I heard Tyson. He knocked on the side of the doorframe and I looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. I was now dressed in my clothes from the night before, sans panties, and was drying my face with a towel. My skin screamed for moisturizer after I had washed off the remnants of yesterday’s makeup with

simple hand soap, but I still felt better. “I’m sorry for upsetting you,” he said. His Adam’s apple dipped and his head fell forward as he sighed. “I meant what I said out there, I can’t talk about my cases.” “But you do know something about those girls.” “I have a client who is concerned about the disappearances of women, yes.” It was the truth in a lie. I could tell. Yet I also understood in a way. “You’re a lawyer, not an investigator, though,” I said, more to myself than him. I was missing a piece that would help his reaction make sense, but I still came up empty. “My grandfather knows powerful people,” Tyson said, as if that would help. I shook my head and dropped the subject. I wouldn’t get answers if he couldn’t give them, and he had made it clear that he couldn’t…or wouldn’t. “Okay.” I nodded, resigned to being left in the dark. He would tell me when he was ready, at least I hoped. I understood the need for confidentiality, but Tyson and I used to tell each other everything. If he was honest about wanting to begin a relationship with me again, then I had to trust he’d tell me what he could, when he could. “If you’re not still too angry with me,” he said, one side of his lips tilting into a grin, “would you like to shower with me?” He stepped forward, and I saw his anger ease from the darkness in his eyes. I spun around, leaned against the bathroom vanity, and shamelessly took him in, almost completely naked besides his boxers. A thick bulge in them made it obvious that the shower idea wasn’t solely for cleanliness purposes. I couldn’t resist. Perhaps, looking back, I could have. I just really didn’t want to. In the end, Tyson ended up late for work, and I was hours behind in my job searching. But I didn’t care. As he held me in his arms in the bathroom, drying me off after we showered, I asked him the one question that had been on the tip of my tongue when I first saw him that morning. “My father is hosting my family’s annual benefit next week,” I said, looking at him in the mirror’s reflection. His shoulders tightened fractionally and he stood up behind me, meeting my gaze. “Yes?” “I’d like you to go with me.” “You sure?” he asked, and his head tilted to the side. I understood the hesitancy. Before, when we were kids, I had to hide my relationship with him. He hated it, but understood. “I’m sure.” He was what I wanted. It was early in our relationship—or whatever this was turning out to be—and we’d both changed a lot in the last ten years. But I wanted to see where this could go, and it couldn’t go anywhere if I dated someone else to make my parents happy. My mom would understand. Eventually.

Hopefully. With a brush of his lips against the side of my neck, and a twinkle in his dark blue eyes, Tyson smiled. “Okay, then. I’d love to go with you.”

Chapter 12 I hesitated at the threshold of Detroit Premier Agency, still uncertain if I wanted to be as forward as I was being, résumé in hand on Monday morning. My father had set this up for me, and as uncertain as I was about using my real name, being an assistant at the best event planning agency would open a multitude of doors for me. It would be foolish to pass up this opportunity simply due to pride. I blew out a breath and reached for the gold handle on the glass door, gathering confidence as I pulled it open and entered. The main receptionist area was eerily silent, and the slight creaking of the door and my footsteps on padded carpet were the only noise as I entered. I barely had time to gather my breath before a flurry of blond hair hustled down the hallway. She stopped as soon as she saw me, hovering by the empty receptionist desk, and I instantly recognized Simone. She had planned a variety of my family’s events when I was younger, and I was always impressed with her beauty and professionalism. She quickly adjusted her hot pink eyeglasses on her slender nose and walked directly toward me. “You’re hired,” she stated, in a no-nonsense fashion as soon as she reached me. “Follow me. I already have your computer up and running, but I’ll need to teach you how to log in. I’ll also need to show you how to sync our calendars together and the protocol for answering phones—” “Excuse me?” I asked, aware that I was following her despite my shock. She paused, spun around, and I got a quick peek of red-painted soles on her shoes before I even recognized the designer pantsuit she wore. Simone Pillar was gorgeous. As a child she amazed me. As an adult, she intimidated me. “You are Gabriella Galecki, correct?” “I am.” I paused and held out my résumé. “My father said—” “I know your father.” She turned around and continued walking. With a quick wave of her hand, she beckoned me to follow. “He told me you’d be stopping by. I hope you can do basic office work. My assistant’s water broke in the middle of the night, two weeks earlier than her due date, and I currently have everyone in the office trying to handle her current tasks. I’ve been looking to hire someone because Monica had been preparing to quit her job once her baby was born. We just thought we had more time. Your appearance here this morning is fortuitous.” She stopped at a cubicle with walls that were just over waist high. Past the cubicle, I saw an office that I assumed was hers. Tables were cluttered with floral arrangements of various sizes. Fabric swatches covered a cream leather couch. “DPA” was stamped on the wall just behind the cubicle where she placed her hand. “Ms. Pillar—,” I started before she interrupted me.

“Do you want the job?” Her eyes narrowed and I saw small flecks of brown in bright green eyes. “Your father told me you were looking.” “Yes.” I nodded. “I do…and I am. I’m just, surprised I guess.” She shrugged once and reached out, snapping the résumé from my hand. “Consider yourself my temporary employee. If you survive the first two weeks, we’ll discuss full employment. I’ll have my human resources administrator stop by in a few minutes to go over pay.” She waved her hand dismissively, as if I couldn’t care less about money. She was not entirely wrong, except… “I’d like to earn this job on merit,” I said. She eyed me speculatively, but I refused to fidget. I knew exactly what she saw. I was dressed in clothing that rivaled hers in brand and price, as I’d emptied most of my savings in order to purchase a professional wardrobe. My hair was just as immaculate and we were almost equally wealthy. Hers earned, mine given…but in that moment, it didn’t matter to her. “I promised your father a favor for all of his business over the years, and I do not generally do favors for people, despite how much I like them or how well I know them. You will not keep this job based on your name, so I’m willing to offer you the opportunity to earn permanent placement.” Even though I was effectively chastised, relief coursed through me. She was brutally honest, and I respected that. “Understood.” “Good. Then set your stuff down. I realize you weren’t planning on working today, but with your family’s benefit coming up next week and Monica going into labor early, I’m behind. I need you as quickly as you can be ready.” I set my purse on the top of the desk and smiled. “I’m ready.” Her lips twitched at the edges. The first hint of a smile on her hard features. “Good. Then let’s get to work.” — I worked all morning and through a rushed lunch break. Simone, along with the main receptionist, spent all morning explaining to me what had already been planned, what still needed to be finalized, and where her files were so I could contact the various vendors as well as ensure the RSVPs had all arrived. I hadn’t felt this energized since I had chased chickens on a farm. Pulling out my phone to check for any messages, I smiled when I saw a text from Tyson. Blackbird: Thinking of you. See you tonight? It was sent two hours ago. He’d spent most of the weekend working hard at his grandfather’s office, preparing some new case he had to deal with, and getting adjusted to his new job, too. We hadn’t seen each other since I left his house Thursday morning. I typed a quick reply and hit send.

Would love to. Fireside Grill? Have to look at some apartments and I have news for you. Without waiting for his response, knowing he might not see it right away, I slipped my phone back into my purse so I wouldn’t be distracted. Throughout the afternoon, I sat in meetings with Simone about other upcoming events and answered the surprisingly complex phone system. On top of meeting Simone, I also met four of her other event planners, two more assistants, and the small IT department. It was a small office, but everyone was warm and welcoming. I quickly learned that while Simone was direct, sometimes even coming across as cold, she held the respect of everyone in the office, and they seemed to genuinely like her. I almost wanted to thank my father for tossing this opportunity right into my lap. By the time my workday was done, I was equal parts exhausted and thrilled as I picked up my purse and slung the strap over my shoulder. “There isn’t anything else you need from me today, is there?” I asked Simone, stopping at her doorway. Clicking fingers on the keyboard paused briefly enough to wave me off before they returned to rapid typing. “Nope. We’re good. Thank you.” I turned to leave when I heard her call my name again. “Yes?” I tilted my head and waited. Her hands paused on the keyboard and hovered. “I meant what I said earlier. I might be giving you this opportunity because of your father, but you’ll have to earn your spot.” I got it. I actually liked that. “Understood.” Her red lips stretched into a small smile. “I also want you to know that based on what you’ve shown me today, I have no doubt you’ll do just that.” “Thank you,” I said, my voice a bit breathy. Stress that I hadn’t realized I was carrying melted from shoulders. “Don’t thank me. Just continue to work hard. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Without another glance, her fingers began moving and her eyes refocused on her computer screen. Earlier, I had learned that she usually worked long into the night and was often at the office hours before anyone else. The woman was a workhorse. With a slight pep to my step, I left the office and boarded the elevator. As soon as I started my car, I grabbed my phone from my purse and checked the screen while I let the car cool down from the humid heat it had sat in all day. Three missed calls. One from my father. Two from Malik. One text from Tyson: Blackbird: Fireside at 7? I typed out a response letting him know I’d meet him there and then put the phone in my cup holder. My father and Malik could wait a while. I had a new home to go find.

— The apartment was perfect. I spun in a slow circle, taking in the beautiful architecture of the old-style building. Peace flooded my veins. How was it possible that in a matter of hours, everything I had wanted seemed to be falling into place? This place felt like home. There wasn’t a single thing about this apartment, the first I’d seen, that didn’t meet every qualification I had for a home. Secure entrance with a doorman—while I wanted my freedom, I knew my family had enemies. Security was important. The complex had been recently built but the architecture kept the feel of historic Latham Hills. Doorways were curved, the woodwork a deep, rich oak that could have come straight from the 1920s, but the kitchen was outfitted with the most top-of-the-line appliances, new cupboards, and a modern worktop. Everything about the place screamed elegance. I absolutely loved it. “I’ll take it.” Finishing my slow spin, I looked at the apartment manager. Nancy Maskin had been nothing but helpful and kind. “Excellent.” She opened a file folder filled with information along with a leasing contract. “We can take care of this now, if you’re not in a hurry.” “I’m not.” I was. It was getting close to seven and I was anxious to share all of my good fortune from the day with Tyson over a burger. This time, I was getting the one loaded with bacon. But I also wanted to get this taken care of. There were only two, two-bedroom apartments currently available and I didn’t want to lose one. I met Nancy at the kitchen island and pulled out my checkbook, ready to give her a deposit and first month’s rent after she rambled off her necessary spiel. It was only a few moments before I handed her my check, emptying the rest of my savings, and signed on several dotted lines. I did it. I just rented my first home. It was in a convenient location, close to the quaint downtown of Latham Hills as well as the freeway that would take me to downtown Detroit. With my father’s house on the south side of Detroit and my new, albeit temporary, office and Latham Hills on the northern edge, I was extending my commute to the house, but this place was worth it. “Thank you,” I told Nancy as we shook hands at the front door. My phone buzzed in my purse like it had done several times while I was touring the apartment but until then, I’d ignored it. “I’ll call you as soon as your approval goes through,” Nancy said. She locked the door behind us as we exited. “It should only be a day or two, but I don’t see anything stopping this.” “That’d be kind of you.” I reached for my phone in my purse and pulled it out as we stepped into the elevator. It buzzed in my hand again, and I frowned when I saw my father’s name lighting up the screen. A weight fell in my stomach.

He never called me this incessantly. “Excuse me,” I muttered to Nancy and unlocked my phone. “I have to take this call. Is there anything else we need?” “Not at all. I’ll send your information in as soon as I get back to the office.” “Thank you.” I tried to smile but it felt forced. As soon as I stepped into the lobby of the apartment complex’s main building, I sat down on a red leather couch and hit the redial button. My father answered halfway through the first ring. “Where are you?” he snapped. “I’m in Latham Hills looking at apartments. What’s going on?” “You need to come home.” My breath stalled in my chest for a moment, but I fought through my fear. “Is it Mom?” “Just get home. Immediately.” The click of him hanging up echoed in my ear and I closed my eyes. My shoulders heaved. I just ate dinner there last night. I spent most of the day before over at the house helping Clarissa bake more pies. My mother slept most of the day but was awake and alert for small intervals. How could she already be doing so poorly that I needed to hurry home? With what felt like sludge weighing down my legs, I pushed off the couch and managed a weak wave to the doorman, Billie. He looked ancient—late sixties, at best, and his hair was completely gray. He sported what had to be the world’s worst comb-over, but he seemed friendly. I reached my car, parked in a visitor’s spot directly outside the leasing center’s Clubhouse. The complex also housed a small workout room which I would most likely rarely see, but I also knew it had a pool and hot tub, which I was looking forward to using often once summer hit. Once I started the car, I remembered my dinner plans with Tyson. The easiest thing would be to send him a text, but I wanted to hear his voice. Thankfully, once I dialed his number he answered almost as quickly as my father had. “Blue?” I sighed and my eyes closed. I really liked his voice and the way he said my name. “Hey. Listen, I’m going to have to cancel on dinner.” “Okay…I thought you had news for me.” “I do.” I fidgeted and ran my hands through my hair before I began tapping on the steering wheel. “Unfortunately my father just called and I need to see him.” “I see.” His tone was clipped. My lips pulled to one side. “I’m sorry. Raincheck for tomorrow?” “How about drinks when you’re done at home?” “I don’t know how long that will be.” “I’ll wait up. Just come to my place.” Driving all the way to my parents’ house, then back to Latham Hills meant I had to pass my hotel twice. It wasn’t the longest trip, but I had no idea how long it would take with my

father. Already, I felt the adrenaline I’d most likely been running on all day begin to dissipate. I was going to be exhausted later. Too tired for a drink. I also realized I didn’t care. My hand twisted around the steering wheel, and I smiled softly. “Okay, Tyson. I’ll see you later.” I agreed to call him as soon as I was on my way, and then I hung up the phone, pulled out of the parking lot, and headed straight home. The entire time, I was praying that my mother hadn’t taken a drastic turn for the worse. — My heart pumped wildly against my chest as I climbed out of the car in my parents’ driveway. Gathering up my courage, imagining the worst-case scenario, I hurried up the stairs and pushed open the front door. The clamor of pots and pans in the kitchen echoed down the hallway toward me, and Claude was nowhere in sight. I should have run to my mother. Seen how she was. My fear instead moved me toward the kitchen, where I knew I would first see Clarissa. My heels clicked along the tiled floor until I stopped in the doorway of the kitchen. Everything appeared as it should. Clarissa stood in the kitchen facing the stove and stirring a sauce that had steam wafting from the top. It smelled delicious—like marinara seasoned with her special spices. “How is she?” I asked, stepping into Clarissa’s domain. It was also the one room in the house where I knew I was always welcome. Clarissa’s head jerked back at the shock at my voice. “How is who?” “Mother. Father called me several times this afternoon and said I had to get home.” I stopped and ran a hand through my hair. I tried to catch my breath but it was useless. I was terrified. “I came as quickly as I could.” A line appeared between her brows. “She’s fine, bella. She’s been resting all day like usual, and nothing bad has happened.” A sigh of relief escaped me and I leaned forward, bracing myself on the edge of the counter. Tears formed in my eyes as I accepted the news. She wasn’t dying. Not today, anyway. I should have been grateful. I was only more confused. Lifting my gaze only to see concern shining in Clarissa’s eyes, I asked, “Where’s my father?” “He’s in his study.” “Ugh.” I stood up and fixed my hair and then took the time to make sure my clothes weren’t horribly wrinkled. The last thing I needed was an argument with my father over my appearance. If he didn’t call me home in such a hurry to see my mom, I had no idea what he wanted. “I’ll be back soon.” “Gabriella?” “Yes?” I turned and looked at Clarissa over my shoulder. “He’s not alone.” I frowned when she began wiggling her eyebrows.

My shoulders drooped. “Malik is with him?” I asked on a defeated sigh. This wasn’t good. Both men had called me earlier and my father’s insistence had to mean a horrible thing. “Have fun.” I snorted, earning me an unladylike look from Clarissa, and hoofed it to my father’s office. I should have ignored his call and just gone to dinner with Tyson. But now I was thinking I couldn’t wait for a drink at his place later. I figured that after this conversation, I was going to need one. Or six.

Chapter 13 To my surprise, the door to my father’s office was wide open. I didn’t bother knocking on the doorframe to make my presence known. His head snapped up as soon as he saw me. He was sitting behind his desk, a glass of whiskey held gingerly in his hand. His lips pressed into a straight line barely masking his annoyance that it had taken me so long to get here. I couldn’t help Detroit traffic. “Come in.” I obeyed and stepped into his office and immediately saw Malik in a chair to the side of my father’s desk where he couldn’t be seen from the doorway. He turned to face me and then pushed to his feet, setting his own glass down on the desk. I fought the urge to crinkle my nose. I despised whiskey. “Good evening, Gabriella,” Malik said, stepping forward and doing that proprietary thing he did that I was beginning to also despise. With one of his hands low on my hip, he leaned forward and brushed his lips across my cheek. “Evening,” I muttered, glancing down to my feet. When Malik had dropped his hand from my hip and stepped away, I slowly brought my gaze up to meet my father’s. Irritation bubbled beneath my skin. This was the man who had allowed me to believe that something was wrong with Mom, all under the guise of getting me to the house. The man had no shame when it came to getting what he wanted. A lumped formed in my throat at the thought. I knew what he wanted. Malik’s presence made that clear. “Before you get started with why I’ve been summoned,” I started, unable to hide the anger from my voice, “I thought you should know that I took your advice and spoke with Ms. Pillar. I began my position with DPA this morning. And I’ve placed a deposit on a new home, apartment, really.” My father’s lips thinned further. His frustration with me rippled through the room. I almost wanted to smile. Maybe curtsy. “Is that all?” he asked, his lips twisting into a sneer. No. But it was enough. At the small nod of my head, he relaxed slightly. “Very well, then.” He continued. “Malik will escort you to the benefit next Saturday.” I gritted my teeth. I should have known I would be railroaded into this after I dismissed Malik’s invitation. Malik was just as cunning as my father. I might have underestimated his interest in me. Before I could think of the appropriate words to say, to tell him that I had already asked Tyson to accompany me, Malik stepped forward and took my hand. “It will be pleasure to have you on my arm.”

I bet. I barely spared Malik a glance before looking back to my father. He looked rather pleased with himself as he sipped his whiskey. I knew better. His current relaxed state only hid the cogs working in his mind, trying to find a way to trap me. “I would like to speak with Malik for a few minutes. In private,” I said, stressing the words at the end. “Whatever you have to say—” For the first time in my life that I could remember, I interrupted him. “Will be said in private. Either here or later.” Both men tensed. “Jimmy,” Malik cut in, his voice patronizing as he glanced at me with a wink. “Please, allow me to speak to Gabriella.” As if I needed my father’s approval or permission. I was done with all of it, and I planned to make myself clear. It had been stupid of me to even agree to see Malik just to make my mother happy. There was nothing I could ever do that would earn me favor in the light eyes of the man in front of me. The man who was clearly annoyed with being asked to leave his own office. With heavy reluctance and anger, my father finally nodded and stepped away from his desk. “Very well,” he muttered. The door to the office closed behind him as he exited. I was given no time to say my peace before Malik’s hand, which was still on my arm, gripped me more firmly. I turned to him and wrenched it out of his grasp. “Gabriella,” he said. I jerked at the warning in his tone. I pressed my lips together and took a step back, lifting my hand. “I will not be attending the benefit with you. I’m sorry, Malik, but you knew I was going to go with my father—” “Your father has decided not to attend this year,” he said, interrupting me. I tried to maintain a rational and calm demeanor; the men in my life hated overly emotional women. I closed my eyes and inhaled a calming breath. This was not going to go over well. “And while that’s most definitely news,” I said, rolling my shoulders back and lifting my chin to meet his gaze, “my plans have also changed. I’m sorry to tell you this, truly, but I only agreed to meet with you to appease my parents. I have no interest in the family business, Malik.” A muscle tightened in his jaw. I decided to deliver the final blow before he could speak. Might as well get all his anger out at once. “And I have a date.” “You what?” His eyebrows arched in surprise. I took little comfort in being able to shock him. “I recently reconnected with someone I knew when I lived here previously.” “You were a child then.” “And I’m an adult now,” I said in a clipped voice, my patience wearing thin. “And able to make my own decisions. I will not be forced into a marriage that I do not want. I will not be used or manipulated. I made that clear to my father before I returned home.”

A slow grin spread on Malik’s face. It was calculating and calm and sent a chill down my spine. “What you seem to fail to understand, Gabriella, is that you are this family. You, and any children you have, any legacy you leave, will forever be tied to the empire your father, and his father before him, built. It will be a very perilous choice if you try to separate yourself from it.” “Are you threatening me?” “No. I’m pointing out the wisdom in knowing who you are and who you belong to.” My eyes widened and my blood chilled further. “And you’re implying that I am someone’s to own?” “Bad choice of words,” he said, dismissing my question with a wave of his hand. “But you have to understand that your father has many enemies. His stepping down will not be taken lightly. He has chosen me to protect you, and it wouldn’t be a sign of your intelligence to turn your back on it.” I swallowed and looked away. I also couldn’t help the sneer that lifted one side of my lips. Taking a few deep breaths, I paused to think for a few moments before responding. “I will not marry you,” I told Malik when I had calmed down. A small hint of amusement eased the harshness in his features. “You have made that clear. But you must also understand that when I am in charge of the Detroit family, it will be my job and my prerogative to help keep you safe—from any and all threats.” I heard the slight edge of darkness in his tone and chose to ignore it. “I really must go.” I stepped away and toward the door. “I would like you to consider something,” Malik said when my hand wrapped around the door handle. “What’s that?” “I understand you and Jimmy are not close. And I cannot fathom the sudden defiance of your own legacy.” I arched a brow and waited for him to continue. He didn’t need to fathom anything, and I was done arguing with this man. Tyson was waiting for me and nothing had ever sounded better than a beer and his arms around me in his small home. It had more warmth than anything I had ever lived in simply because he would be there with me. “I would still like you to attend the benefit with me.” I scoffed and he lifted a hand to silence me. “It would make your father happy and he’s under enough stress. Between your mother’s illness and the business, he’s had enough to handle. There are stirrings in Chicago and Boston, families who have wanted to take control from him for years are moving in. They’ve discovered that your mother is sick, and they believe your father is growing weak. They’re getting more aggressive and tensions are mounting, Gabriella. Now is not the time to upset him.” No one had ever spoken so blatantly to me about anything to do with the business. Still, I opened my mouth to refuse, but that niggling part of me in the back of mind reminded me of family loyalty. “You’re manipulating me by using my mother,” I stated, daring him to argue. He didn’t. He

simply shrugged and slid his hands into the front pockets of his pants. “You understand that this is out of obligation and not for pleasure,” I told him, feeling myself cave. “I understand.” He smiled. It felt like he was teasing me. I had no doubt that he was currently thinking of ways to change my mind, but he wouldn’t. There was nothing he could do that would make me want to marry into this underground empire forever. “Then I will go with you on Saturday.” Victory sparkled in his eyes. “I will pick you up at six.” I nodded, feeling sick to my stomach at the thought. There was no way this could go well, but at least I had a few days to prepare myself for whatever he intended to do. “Until then. Good night, Malik.” “Good night, Gabriella.” I left my father’s office, thankful that he wasn’t loitering outside, listening to the entire conversation. Then I grabbed my purse from the kitchen, saddened that the room was empty and Clarissa was nowhere to be found. As I headed upstairs to kiss my mother good night, I wished that either of the women I loved and adored could wrap their arms around me and hold me. Because I feared I had just made an incredibly huge mistake. — By the time I pulled into Tyson’s driveway, my eyes were struggling to stay open. It was almost eleven o’clock and I was wiped out. Between a long day at work, finding an apartment, the meeting with my father and Malik, and a stop at my hotel for a change of clothes for tomorrow morning, I desperately wanted to climb into the closest bed I could find and fall asleep immediately. Hopefully, the bed I’d be falling asleep in would contain Tyson as well. It was that thought that kept me from canceling when I walked into my hotel room—the bed calling my name, enticing me to lie down for just a moment. With an exhausted grunt, I reached around and grabbed my overnight bag from the back seat and forced my feet to carry me toward Tyson’s door. It opened as soon as I reached the front step and I couldn’t hide my smile. He’d been waiting for me. A jolt of something pleasurable hit my chest and as he stepped out and reached for my bag, that pleasurable jolt traveled farther south. When he lifted his eyes and our gazes met, that jolt turned into a full body tingle. “Hey.” He scanned my face and frowned. “You look tired.” I sighed. “I’ve had a really crappy evening.” My bag hit the floor with a thump. The door closed behind me, and then Tyson’s hand was on my neck, sliding around to the back. I sank into his hold immediately, my head collapsing against his chest. “Want to talk about it?”

I shook my head back and forth. “Drink first.” His lips brushed against my hair on the top of my head and he pulled me toward him, my chest hitting his. My hands immediately went to his waist and then around to his back. “Beer?” “Please.” A low chuckle from his chest vibrated against my skin. “We’re going to have to get out of the entryway, then.” I forced myself to pull back. It was a miraculous feat considering I really wanted that bed, and Tyson in it with me. Just having his arms around me, and the fact that the first thing he asked me was if I wanted to talk about it, made me want him more than I already did. He really cared. I hadn’t had much of that in my life. My shoulders slumped at the thought and I finally pushed away from Tyson, slowly lifting my eyes to meet his. “I’ve never seen you look so beat.” His hand slid from my neck, his thumb brushed along my cheekbone. “Not nice to tell a woman she looks like shit.” He flashed me a faint smile. “You’re beautiful, but you look ready to fall asleep.” “I am. But I really want that drink.” I might need the small amount of liquid courage to bolster myself when I told him about my meeting with my dad. Not only did I have to pull out of a date with Tyson, but I also had to tell him why. And hope he understood. He led me toward the living room, pointed a finger at the couch and said, “Sit and relax. I’ll go get us drinks.” I listened and folded my feet under me in one corner of the couch while he walked straight through the living room into the kitchen. I watched as he took out two Shock Top ales from the fridge, popped the tops, tossed them onto the counter, and returned to the living room, handing me a beer before he settled on the couch next to me. I adjusted myself, leaving my feet under me but turned so my knees rested on his thighs. His arm went to the back of the couch, and I put my head on his shoulder while he kicked his feet up on the table in front of him, crossing his ankles. I took a few small sips of my beer and ran my thumb up and down the bottle’s label, not really noticing the Mohawk and sunglasses of the logo that my thumb caressed. I’d had an hour to think about what to tell Tyson and how to explain the mess I had just put myself in. And I was still stalling. Choosing to get it over with, I blurted out, “My mother and father have someone they want me to marry.” Next to me, Tyson’s body tensed. It didn’t take a genius to figure out I had just pissed him off. I twisted so I could meet his eyes. They were dark, narrowed, and his lips were pressed into a white line. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “And?” I nervously ran a hand through my hair, fidgeting with the fine hairs at the back of my neck. “Perhaps that wasn’t the best way to begin.” His slowly arched brow was his only response.

Inhaling deeply, I blew out a breath from puffed out cheeks. “So, my mom is really ill. When I first got into town, the day my dad stopped by my hotel room,” I paused and waited for recognition from Tyson of that morning. When I got nothing from him, my pulse spiked further. “Okay. So that day I went and saw my mom to check in on her and everything. She requested that I give a man they had chosen for me a chance. Said she wants to make sure that I’m taken care of when she passes.” I blinked away the quickly forming tears in my eyes and looked to my beer. “And you said yes,” Tyson said. His shoulders pulled back as if trying to push away from me even though I was leaning on him. “Of course you would.” He ran a hand ran down his face and dropped his head to the back of the couch, eyes closed. I reached out and rested my hand on his chest, right above his heart. I could feel the strong thump beating inside him. “Only to appease her, and I didn’t say yes to the marriage, just that I’d consider it. We had only just seen each other.” “He’s playing you.” There was no need to clarify who he was talking about. “My father is,” I admitted, nodding. I took my hand from his chest and went back to picking at the bottle label. “Can I tell you something important? About my family?” He turned his head, narrowed eyes on me. His lips twitched, like he couldn’t figure out how to respond. I took that as my cue to continue. I shifted so I wasn’t leaning on him, but still facing him. I was close enough that his hand rested on the back of my neck, fingers trailing through my hair. “My dad is stepping down.” Those fingers tensed in my hair. They dug into my scalp slightly but not enough to sting. “I don’t know why, but I think that because of my mom, he’s just had too much to deal with. Or maybe it’s time. I don’t know. I heard something tonight about other families thinking he’s growing weak. Anyway, he’s handing down everything he’s built to someone else. They want me to marry the man who’s going to take over to keep someone from the family still connected…” I paused, bile rising in my throat as I continued with a scoff, “They want to ensure another Galecki can someday take over.” “Fucking hell,” Tyson groaned and slid his hand out of my hair. His feet dropped to the floor, his elbows hit his knees, and his head hit the palms of his hands. He scrubbed his hair wildly while he visibly shook to stay in control. “He’s using you like fucking cattle.” The thought made me sick. He wasn’t altogether wrong. “I went on a date with Malik, the man who’s stepping up to lead.” His head snapped toward mine, and those dark blue eyes turned absolutely glacial. “When?” The inside of my cheek found its way between my teeth and I chewed on it nervously. “That Monday you were out of town,” I admitted with a quiet voice. Tyson pushed off the couch and paced the living room. I sat there, wide-eyed and stunned at his demeanor and the way his hands kept flying to his hair. He growled indecipherably except for the curse words falling from his lips.

I managed to take a few sips of my beer, before disliking the taste while he ranted and raved to himself, continuing to pace back and forth. “Tyson?” I finally asked when his anger seemed to be a reaching a boiling point. “I told him I wouldn’t do it.” He froze mid-step and spun to look at me, hands falling to his hips. “When?” “Tonight. When my father said Malik has to take me to the benefit.” His nostrils flared and his chest heaved. “And you said?” The question lingered in the air. From my silence, Tyson figured out the answer. “Fucking hell, Blue.” He shook his head, and I clambered from my perch on the couch to walk toward him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, lifting my hand and placing it on his chest. His heart was beating much too fast. I knew this would upset him, I just hadn’t realized how much. “I made it clear to Malik that Saturday night is only for my parents’ sakes and that I won’t have anything else to do with him after. I just…” “You just love your mom and don’t want her upset.” He spoke the truth, but in a voice I didn’t like. Even if I thought my mom would understand, I still felt the need to do this one last thing for her, when given the circumstances of how I was raised, she had asked so little of me. I swallowed a lump in my throat. His anger dissipated even though I could still feel the thumping of his heart. “I want you,” I said softly, pressing into him further. “It’s just complicated right now.” One of his hands reached out and snagged me around the waist. He pulled me toward him until we were chest to chest and I had to tilt my head up to look at him. His chin dipped down and his eyebrows bunched together. “I won’t be hidden from them this time, Blue. I can’t play that game again.” “You won’t be,” I assured him. “I told Malik there was someone else in my life, anyway. It will get back to my parents soon, I’m sure.” Moments passed before he blew out another breath, visibly expelling his tension. Then his lips pressed against my forehead. “Let’s go.” He turned, his hand still on my back, and began pushing me toward the bedroom. When I glanced at him, an eyebrow raised in question at his sudden shift in demeanor, one edge of his lips kicked up. “I have some work to do so that come Saturday, the only man you’re thinking about, the only man you’re wanting, is me.” My breath caught in my throat as I let him guide me down the hall. I could have told him that whatever happened tonight or Saturday or anything in between would be pointless, because the only man I’d ever wanted was right next to me. But a bigger part of me wanted to see exactly what he felt the need to show me.

Chapter 14 By the time we reached his room, my body was buzzing like a live wire. Tyson didn’t say much as he walked me toward the bed and spun me around slowly until I faced him. The light from the hallway hit our profiles, giving me only an idea of the look in his eyes. They were dark and angry, and full of want, too. I hesitated as his eyes slowly trailed down the length of my body before pausing on my breasts and lifting back up meet my gaze. “Stop chewing on your cheek,” he admonished and brushed his thumb against the side of my face. I didn’t realize I was doing it, but as soon as he touched me, my lips parted, letting go of the abused flesh. “Better,” he murmured and ran one hand down my cheek and then ran both down my shoulders to the tips of my fingers. Pleasured bumps rose on my skin, leaving a trail of desire and need following his soft touch. I lost track of everything else I wanted to tell him, actual good news that might have made him smile instead of frown like he was still doing, when his hand fell to hem of my shirt. He lifted it and pulled it off my body slowly, then dropped his hands to my back and undid my bra strap. I quivered under his touch as he gently slid the straps down my arms and dropped the bra at my feet. “Beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with lust. His hands continued moving, fingers undoing the button and zipper at the waistband of my wide-leg black trousers before he let go. They fell to the ground and pooled at my ankles. I lifted my feet, kicking them off. Tyson’s lips dropped to mine as soon as I did. His tongue slid across my lips and I opened to him. I had no other choice. It was always him. As our tongues slid together, he pushed me backward and down until I fell to the bed and then continued pushing me until I was lying down. He pulled away from our kiss, trailing his lips down my flesh until his lips found my nipple. As soon as his tongue swirled around the hard tip, my fingers flew to his hair. “Tyson,” I groaned, arching into him. He pulled and tugged, causing my hips to arch and writhe against him. He was wearing only athletic shorts and a T-shirt, and I could feel his erection press against my center as I moved. It felt delicious. Perfect. “Want to taste you,” he murmured, moving down my abdomen, pausing only to press his lips against my navel. His fingers dug into my underwear and he removed them, dropping to

his knees on the floor while he slid them off my legs and ankles. “Lay back,” he ordered. I loosened my grip on his hair and complied, lying down until I was propping myself up on my elbows. Before I was able to blink, his mouth brushed against my core and he inhaled my scent before pressing his lips just above my pubic area. “So fucking beautiful. Hated not knowing where you went, where you were. Ten fucking years and I always wondered, even when I tried not to.” My breath caught in my throat as he spoke. We hadn’t spoken much about when I left since the night we had ice cream and walked along the riverfront. I had no idea he still thought of that time. My heart stung inside my chest when he closed his eyes and inhaled again, sliding his tongue around my sensitive bud. “Holy shit,” I gasped, dropping my head back to the bed. My arms slid out from underneath me and my fingers dug into the bed sheets. “Tyson.” His name. It was all I could think. It was all I could say. All other words escaped me, but I continued chanting his name when he gripped my backside in his large, warm palms and pressed my sex directly to his mouth. And then he devoured me. His tongue slid in and around my folds, teasing me until I became a whimpering mess. He murmured encouraging words, telling me how much he loved the taste of me, spurring me on as my hips began bucking against his mouth. He slid his tongue to my clit and flicked it back and forth, loosening his hold on me to slide two fingers into my wet flesh. “So perfect. Love the way you taste.” I moaned loudly, highly aware that I was shameless with the need to be closer to him. “Tyson,” I gasped, as my orgasm began tightening in my inner thighs. The heat and tremors spread to my stomach and down to my core until I couldn’t contain myself. The pleasure was explosive and I felt every part of me clenching and convulsing around his fingers and tongue while he threw me over the edge of abandon with his sure movements. “Amazing,” I muttered, one arm thrown over my eyes. My body still trembled from his heated touch when he stood up and wrapped my ankles around his back. I popped my eyes open, dropping my arm to see Tyson grinning at me. It was full of arrogance and cockiness. I grinned. “Yes?” One side of his lips twitched up. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?” “I don’t know if I can take more,” I admitted, my cheeks flushed from my orgasm and embarrassment. He laughed softly, reaching into a drawer of his nightstand. I watched every moment as he tore the foil with his teeth and rolled on a condom. Excitement began to build all over just from watching his fluid movements. When he was done, he pulled me toward him until my backside hung off the edge of the bed. Standing to his full height, he adjusted me, moving my ankles behind his back, lifting my hips off the bed. He wrapped one hand around his hard and thick shaft, his gaze focused on my center. “You can take more,” he assured me with a teasing glint in his eyes.

He proved it by sliding the tip of his erection against my entrance, gathering moisture before sliding inside. “Tighten those ankles around me,” he said, leaning forward to grab onto my hips with both hands. He pulled my bottom up to meet him until my body was angled for him. He slid in all the way, filling me and stretching me until he was fully sheathed inside me. Everything inside me ached for more, even though I felt overwhelmed. “Wait,” I gasped, as a sharp bite of pain hit me deep inside. “Give me a minute to adjust.” Opening my eyes, I stared up at him and saw perspiration beading on his forehead. His forearms were trembling with restraint and I couldn’t help but grin. He was holding back on my account and it was killing him. I liked that I could make him lose control in the same way he did to me. “Okay,” I nodded as the pain receded, and began squirming, loving the feel of him. “Move.” “You sure?” I wrapped my hands around his and tugged. “Please. I need you.” The cocky grin reappeared. He pulled out slowly and slid back in; both of us tossed back our heads and groaned out loud. Tyson continued moving slowly, until he picked up the pace, his hips beginning to piston in and out, signaling his strong desire for me. Every thrust and every groan of his caused a delicious ripple of anticipation to bloom inside of me. We continued, both of us cursing and moaning, until he sped up again. I cried out his name as he dropped down, bracing himself on his hands next to my shoulders, and thrust harder. Faster. “Fuck!” he groaned. It couldn’t be helped. He drove me crazy, completely out of my mind. It was then I realized what he was doing. He was marking me. Claiming me. It was possessive and primal. It was completely beautiful. I wanted every single thing he could give me, and if he needed to expel his frustrations of the night using my body, I would take it until he was done. My second orgasm began building at the thought and I dug my fingers into his lower back, holding him to me. It took two more pumps of his hips before I began thrashing beneath him, the climax coming fast and strong. So fast and strong that as I began screaming out his name, I leaned forward and sunk my teeth into his shoulder. “Holy shit,” he cried, dropping his head. Two more pumps of his hips and then he was groaning my name, wrapping an arm around the back of my head. He held me to his shoulder as my name fell from his lips in glorious, wicked abandon. “Shit,” I gasped when he pressed into me, sinking me further into the bed. “Incredible,” he murmured. He rubbed his temple against mine slowly, and I couldn’t care less that he was transferring his sweat to my body. We were both covered. “Shower with me,” he said, extending his hand toward me when he’d reclaimed his breath. I could barely move, much less walk. “I’ll stay here,” I muttered, my lips curving into a soft smile.

“You’ll feel better when you’re sleeping next to me and we’re clean.” He had a point. Plus, a shower meant being able to run my hands down his body some more. I lifted my hand limply and rolled my eyes when Tyson laughed at me. Instead of grabbing my hand, he leaned down, wrapped my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist, and carried me into the bathroom. He set me down and I watched as he unrolled the condom and tossed it in the trash. That shouldn’t have been sexy, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Tyson as he touched himself. “I forgot to tell you something else,” I said, the thought popping into my head out of nowhere. “But it’s not bad,” I added when his eyes began to narrow and his body started tensing. “What is it?” He stepped around me and turned on the water, adjusting the levers and checking the temperature. I grinned at his back. “I got a job today. And an apartment.” He turned and tugged me inside the shower with him and moved us under the spray. “That is good news,” he said, brushing my wet hair back from my cheeks. “My apartment is in Latham Hills.” His answering grin was wicked and full of carnal intent when he said, “I think that means we should celebrate.” We did. When we were back in his bed, dry after another round of lovemaking in the shower, I curled my leg over his and rested my head on his chest. “I’ve never felt more cared for, or safer, than when I’m with you,” I admitted, brushing my lips across his pec. He froze for a moment, his body beneath me tightening a fraction before he replied, “I’ve never felt better in my life than when you’re in my arms.” It wasn’t an admission of love. I didn’t know if it needed to be. Based on my feelings for Tyson now, I didn’t think I’d ever fallen out of love with him. I still loved him, just as deeply as I did when I was eighteen. I just needed to find the courage to tell him. It was the last thing I thought before I closed my eyes and surrendered to sleep, putting the best and longest day I’d had in a long time behind me, choosing to remember only the good parts—especially the parts that included Tyson. — “You didn’t have to come,” I reminded Tyson as we stepped into the third home furniture store. I’d received a call back from Nancy just after lunch this afternoon informing me that my application for the apartment had gone through. After recovering from the shock of hearing back so quickly—realizing the speed of approval was one of the benefits of being a Galecki— and because the apartment was currently vacant, I made immediate plans to move in that

weekend. I didn’t have to be ready for the benefit until six on Saturday, which meant I had three days to find furniture and schedule a weekend delivery. For the first time ever, I was dipping into my trust fund in order to furnish it, and while I hated the idea, I promised myself I’d pay the money back with my first few paychecks. Tyson had spent the past two hours with me after work, shopping for all that “shit” as he called it. When I told him I couldn’t see him because I got the apartment, he insisted on coming with me. He’d been moaning ever since. “But you already got a bed, a dresser, and a couch.” I eyed him, my grin full of mirth. “And I need tables. Lots of them.” “Lots of tables,” he muttered. I laughed and grabbed his hand, pulling him along with me as we weaved through the massive furniture store. It took one trip around the store to realize I didn’t like any of them. None of them would go with the curved sofa with a chaise longue at one end that I bought earlier. None of them would look good next to my wrought iron bed and gunmetal gray dresser. “Okay.” I sighed and began heading toward the exit. “I’m done here.” Tyson tugged on my hand until I turned to look at him. “Done? You haven’t bought anything.” “I know. I’ll just have to look more later.” He rolled his eyes to the ceiling in a heaven-help-me gesture. “Not tonight,” I clarified. “Right now, I want to go eat. I’m starving.” I laughed as the worry that I would drag him to another store eased from his shoulders. “Thank Christ,” he muttered. “You didn’t have to come,” I reiterated when we were outside and in his black truck. “Maybe I just wanted to see you. But next time I offer that, remind me of how I feel this very minute.” “And how’s that?” “Like I’d rather be put through a blender.” I laughed, shaking my head. I wasn’t that bad. I thought three stores in two hours was pretty good. But all of the stores were filled with traditional or overly elegant furniture. I wanted something country. Chic. Simple lines with dashes of muted color to make my apartment feel warm and comfortable. I sighed and rested my head against the headrest as I realized why those things were so important to me. “What is it?” Tyson asked, glancing at me before he pulled onto the freeway. “I just realized that I’ve been trying to find furniture similar to what I used to have at my aunt’s place.” “Miss her?” “Yeah, although I don’t think I realized how much until just now.” My voice was wistful and a little sad. With all the work I’d been doing since I moved back home, I hadn’t had time to really consider what I left behind. “I need to call her. She’s probably worried about me.” Tyson turned to me again and arched a brow. “What will you tell her?”

“Everything,” I said, closing my eyes. “I always tell Eleanor everything.” Something comforting pulsed between us, warming the air in the truck’s cab. Turning my head, I opened my eyes and looked at Tyson. His eyes were warm and soft as he looked at me before he put them back on the road, navigating us down Main Street in Latham Hills. “What?” He shook his head, but he was grinning. “I was just wondering what you’d tell her about me.” A hint of doubt in his tone made his grin fade until I reached over and placed my hand on his. “I’d tell her everything. Eleanor and I don’t have secrets.” “Then what will you tell her about me?” “That I found you again,” I whispered, hesitating briefly as Tyson pulled into a parking spot. “And I never want to lose you.” The memory of Eleanor insisting I quit following Tyson’s football career after his injury flashed through my mind. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, she just saw how much it killed me every time I found a snippet of an article that mentioned his name. She saw how devastated I was when I realized his lifelong dream had just died. I had never felt more alone then. Had never missed him more. All I’d wanted to do was reach out and comfort him and tell him how sorry I was, but Eleanor—knowing what was best for me—talked me out of it. My vulnerability was written plain on my face, and I jumped as his palm cupped the side of my cheek. He leaned forward, sliding his hand from my cheek to my neck and then tugged me to meet him. Our lips met in a slow, gentle kiss. Sparks of desire trickled through my body, and I moaned into his mouth. “I don’t want to lose you either,” he said, his voice husky and deep. He pulled away and dipped his chin, resting his forehead on mine. His fingers tightened on the back of my neck and I could feel him tense when he opened his mouth and snapped it close. I let him have his moment, my eyes looking at his closed lids. Because a part of me wondered if he was not telling me the same thing I wasn’t telling him. I was in love with him all over again. Losing him would ruin me. — “That was incredible,” Tyson murmured. I was draped all over him, and my heart pounded against our chests. My head was nestled into the curve of his shoulder and my lips continued pressing kisses along the column of his throat. His arms wrapped around me tightly as his hips arched into me slowly. He was still inside me after we’d just finished making love. It wasn’t just sex that morning when I woke up and Tyson began trailing soft kisses down my ribcage and over my hips. It wasn’t just sex when he slowly slid inside of me and then rolled so I was straddling him. It wasn’t sex as our hips moved in a synced rhythm as if we’d been doing this for years. It was making love.

It shined just as brightly in his dark blue eyes as I hoped it shined in my light blue ones. I was still catching my breath, small tremors vibrating through my body as his hips continued to rock against me, teasing me and drawing out the aftershocks of an orgasm that had left me crying out so hard I was thankful we didn’t have the windows open. None of his neighbors needed to be awakened at six in the morning with that noise echoing through the neighborhood. “I have to go get rid of the condom,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my cheek. I clung to him harder. “I like you here.” He chuckled, his laughter hitting my ears and making me quiver beneath him. “I like being here.” He pushed me off him slowly until he could slide out of me, and then he gently shifted me to the side of the bed next to him. I rolled over, following his movements toward the bathroom. “I’m on the pill,” I said once he returned after he finished cleaning himself up. “And I trust you.” He blinked twice and nodded. His tongue came out and licked his bottom lip, but he didn’t seem as pleased as I thought he would. More like hesitant. Coldness prickled at the back of my neck and I sat up, pulling the covers over my chest. “I’m clean,” he said and took a step toward me. Then, as if he needed to think twice about coming to me, he turned and went to his dresser and quickly pulled on a simple gray T-shirt and boxers. “I think it’d be best to keep using them, though.” My head jolted back in shock. Looking at his back, I saw his shoulders fall as he ran his hand through his hair. “Why?” I asked, and I hated the pain laced in the simple word. It wasn’t a big deal. We had just started seeing each other again. Maybe I was mistaken about the emotion I felt rolling off him earlier. He was quiet for several moments and continued looking at the dresser in front of him before he turned around. When he did, my spine stiffened at the uncertainty clouding his features. “I just think that with whatever is happening between us, we should take it slow.” “Whatever is happening between us,” I murmured, repeating his words out loud. God. How could I have been so far off the mark earlier? I must have just seen what I wanted to see. “Blue?” I looked down at the floor to where my shirt had been discarded last night. And to where his T-shirt that I wore to bed last night had been discarded this morning when he woke me up, wanting me. Or just wanting sex. “It’s fine,” I muttered. I swung my legs off the edge of the bed and reached down, bypassing his clothes and grabbing my own.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, and I could tell by his voice that he was walking toward me. In my head, I understood what he was saying. There was no sense in not being extra careful. We were still getting to know each other again. All the rationale in the world didn’t stop pain from lacing through my heart as I climbed out of his bed, though. “I said it’s fine,” I muttered again and walked past him to the bathroom. I closed the door as I heard him let out a curse. Through the door, I heard his phone ring and he picked it up immediately, barking out, “Blackwell.” I ignored the sound of his raised voice filtering through the closed door. I couldn’t make out his words, but his voice was tight and clearly pissed. I just didn’t know if he was mad at me or the person on the other end of the phone. Resisting the urge to look too closely at my reflection in the mirror, I used the toilet and brushed my teeth. I didn’t want to see the pathetically sad girl staring back at me while I got ready to get out of there. I needed to head back to the hotel, shower, and get ready for work since I hadn’t brought anything over with me the night before. And I certainly didn’t want to waste any time lingering. The door opened just as I was rinsing my mouth, slamming against the wall behind it. Tyson walked in, and headed straight toward me. I barely managed to turn the water off before he reached for my biceps and spun me around. “I don’t want to hurt you.” I blinked rapidly, looking just over his shoulder. “I said it’s fine. I get it.” “I don’t think you do.” He loosened his grip on my arm and slid his hand down to mine, interlacing our fingers together and then putting them over the left side of his chest. His heart thumped lightly against my fingertips. “I want to take this slow enough to make sure we’re not screwing it up again. That’s all.” It made sense. Perhaps I was overreacting. But there was something in the words he spoke, something quiet and pleading in his eyes that I didn’t fully understand. Regardless, it was difficult to push him away. “Okay,” I whispered, dropping my gaze to our connected hands on his chest. “I didn’t mean to freak out.” “I didn’t mean to upset you.” My lips twitched slightly and I finally dragged my eyes off his body to his face, our gazes locking. “Did we just survive our first fight?” “I’m not sure it was a fight, more like a minor disagreement.” “Hm. Pity.” I pulled my hand from his grasp and dropped it from his chest. “I suppose that means we don’t need make-up sex, then.” I smiled at the look of shock on his face and ducked around him, quickly hurrying into his bedroom to get my clothes. Just as I was reaching down to grab them from the floor, two large hands gripped my waist, lifting me. “Hey!” I shouted, lacking any venom in my voice.

I was tossed onto the bed and quickly flipped to my back. I was given just enough time to catch my breath before Tyson removed his shirt, dropped his boxers, and climbed on top of me. Then he set about making me lose my breath all over again.

Chapter 15 “We good?” Tyson asked. I was sitting in my car, and he was leaning toward me with his arms slung over the door and the top of the car. My cheeks flushed, remembering how he made us good just a little while ago. I was going to be late for work if I didn’t hurry back to my hotel to change my clothes. Although, I no longer needed to shower. “We’re good.” I gave him a wide and genuine smile and closed my eyes when he leaned down and pressed his lips against mine. “I’ve got a busy few days coming,” he muttered when he pulled back. “I’ll try to call you later, though.” “The phone call you got earlier?” He nodded and chewed on his bottom lip. He let it go, and gritted his teeth for a moment. “There’s a case I’m working on that’s been…difficult. But we got new information this week that should help wrap it up quickly. I just might not be able to see you until after.” “Good luck, then.” I twisted the key in the ignition and tried not to frown. I really couldn’t afford to be late. “I’ll take it. I can’t wait for this thing to be over with.” He kissed me again and stood up from his crouched position. “I’ll call you later.” “Bye,” I said just before he closed the car door. I waited for him to take a step back before I put the car in reverse. He waved goodbye¸ and I did the same before I turned to look back over my shoulder to make sure there weren’t cars heading my way. When I shifted the car into drive, I took one last glance at Tyson only to see him on his front step, hands clasped behind his neck. His face was scrunched up and his head was tilted toward the sky. It was not the picture of a man who had just had two great orgasms and was falling in love, again, with his high school sweetheart. It was the picture of a man who had the weight of the world on his shoulders and had no idea what in the hell he was going to do. It certainly didn’t make my heart feel warm and fuzzy as I drove down the street. I hated that it was the last vision I had of him. As I sped through Latham Hills, hit the freeway, and rushed to my hotel to get changed for work, I tried to push that vision of Tyson out of my mind and focus on the day ahead. I really wanted the permanent position at DPA and I couldn’t afford to screw it up. Fortunately, the rush hour traffic was light enough that I was able to get to my hotel with just enough time to spare to throw on a decent amount of makeup, fix my messy, wet hair into a decent looking knot at the nape of my neck, and get dressed in a simple black skirt, red silk shirt, and black heels. I still managed to make it into work after a stop at a drive-thru Starbucks with one minute to spare. Breathless, I hurried to my desk and was just sinking into the seat in front of the cubicle

wall that separated my desk from Simone’s office when she came rushing out of her office. “I need help,” she said, almost as breathless as I was. “With what?” I dropped my purse and stood up so I could reach for the paper in her hand. “The flower delivery for Saturday is short ten centerpieces. And not only that, we’re also short two hundred wineglasses. I have no idea what happened, but there are other fires burning. Can I trust you take care of this? I can’t screw up on this party.” “I’ll take care of it.” How…I had no clue, but she needed my assurances, not my doubts. “These are my distributors,” Simone said, her eyes lined with worry. “I had everything delivered early to make sure Saturday night will go off without a hitch. I get more business from this event than I do all year long. It’s important this is perfect.” I had been to my parents’ hosted events. Even as a teenager, I understood the importance of them. It was the one time a year my father stepped out of his underworld dealings and looked as if he was a respected member of society. Everyone who was anyone would be there, from politicians to professional athletes to the most lucrative businessmen in the Detroit area. Forcing a confident smile onto my face, I met Simone’s gaze and hoped like hell she couldn’t see me visibly shaking with worry at screwing this up. “I understand, Simone. I promise you, I’ll fix it.” “Okay.” She sighed heavily. She must have believed me. Thank goodness. “Let me know when you have it sorted. I’ve got more calls to make.” “Will do.” I sat back in my chair, stared at the invoice in front of me along with an order form that clearly showed the incorrect amount being ordered in the first place, and then booted up my computer to find the original spreadsheet for the benefit. Simone had walked me through everything before and I had spent so much time checking and double-checking facts, it didn’t take me long to figure out where the mistake was made, and unfortunately, it was not on the supplier’s end. It was on her previous assistant’s, who simply switched the numbers around on the order form when she inputted them. I blamed pregnancy-brain—a mysterious illness I’d heard made pregnant women absentminded. Regardless, as I picked up the phone to call the suppliers to see how I could fix this and keep Simone from kicking me out on my butt, I said a quick prayer and hoped like hell I could get the job done. — “How did you manage this so quickly?” Simone asked, pulling her shocked, light green eyes off my notes and up to me. I debated telling her, and then decided to be honest. “I know that the mayor of Detroit uses the same company for his annual Christmas party. I gently mentioned that it might not be good for their business if the mayor’s wife were to find out that they had become difficult to work with.” I took a breath, gauging the look of surprise on Simone’s face and continued. “I also mentioned to the florist that I’d heard the daughter of the CEO of General Motors will be engaged soon, and if they could somehow manage to come up with enough of the flowers that

were, I apologize, incorrectly ordered, I would be sure to put in a good word about their services this weekend.” I slipped my cheek in between my teeth, worrying it, while she stared at me with wide, pale eyes. Slowly, she slipped her hot pink glasses off and set them on the desk, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. I thought I had made a huge mistake when she began shaking her head back and forth. “Do you have any idea how much you’ve just saved my hide?” she asked, lifting her head back up. My stalled heart began beating again. “Yes?” Laughing softly, Simone held up the notes I’d just delivered to her along with assurances, in writing via email, that the new glasses would be delivered Friday afternoon by two, and the florist would make up the shortage as well. “If it had been my last assistant, she would have been scrambling until Saturday morning, trying to fix her own mistake.” I shuffled on my feet, uncertain if I should reveal the complete truth. “I don’t believe your assistant had my last name working in her favor,” I admitted, looking away from her. “I didn’t mean to, and I apologize if I shouldn’t have—” “It’s fine,” Simone said, pulling my gaze back to her. “Sometimes it’s more about who you know than what you know, and you’ve clearly proven today that, well, you know people.” I doubted she meant to end on such an ominous-sounding note, but I still flinched. “Well, in the future, I’ll try not to use my name.” “Use whatever works, Gabriella. You’ve done your job and that’s what I asked.” She dismissed me with a nod, and I went to my desk and grabbed my purse, intent on heading out for a quick bite of lunch before returning for the afternoon. “Would you like anything from the sushi place around the corner?” I asked Simone. “California rolls,” she said, covering the mouthpiece of her phone. “And thank you.” I tried my best to put the morning behind me and headed outside, quickly putting on a pair of sunglasses when the warm, spring sun temporarily blinded me. We were in the middle of a brief heat wave and it was gorgeous outside, signaling summer—and the humidity that accompanied it—was quickly approaching. It was late for lunchtime so the sidewalks were pretty empty and the traffic relatively light. Due to the quiet outside, I decided to take my lunch, spicy crab and yellowtail scallion rolls, to a park just a block away from Hajime, the sushi restaurant, and my office. Once I was seated at a picnic table and had begun eating and taking sips of iced tea, I picked up my phone and called the one person who’d been on my mind since yesterday. Perhaps Eleanor could help me make sense of the mess I seemed to find myself in with Tyson. The phone rang three times and I began to lose hope, assuming she was out working with her goats or tending her garden. Then an out-of-breath Eleanor quickly said, “Hello?” Tears instantly stung my eyes. For ten years, Eleanor had essentially been my mom, and I truly hadn’t realized how much I missed her soft and kind voice until I heard it again. “Hey, Eleanor,” I said, fighting off the tears and trying to stop my chin from trembling.

She noticed immediately. I could practically feel the warmth of her arms wrap around me through the phone. “Oh Ella, what’s happened? Is it your mom?” I sniffed and shook my head before I remembered she couldn’t see me. “No, it’s just…life.” “Do you have time to tell me about it?” Her voice was soft, almost melodic. I explained everything to her. I told her about running into Tyson on the plane, which caused her to make a startled gasp. I told her about how poorly my mom—her sister—was doing, which left us both choking back tears. I told her about Malik and my father’s insistence that I marry him, which made her growl, which in turn made me laugh. And then we cheered and smiled and laughed when I told her about my new apartment, shopping for furniture, and my new, hopefully soon-to-be-permanent job with DPA. I spilled everything. I tossed every emotion, every fear, every concern, and every hope I’d had since I returned home into her lap because I knew I could trust her with all of it. Especially the parts about Tyson. “Tyson,” she said, a little breathless, still surprised. “Wow. And you say you ran into him on the plane, right?” “Yeah.” My fingers found their way into my hair. “Imagine the odds, huh?” I laughed but it was stilted and rough. “Do you trust him?” Her question made me pause. Did I? With my body? Definitely. With my heart? I wanted to. But sometimes there was this distance he put between us, even just that morning. It made me question if he was holding himself back. “As much as I possibly can,” I finally admitted, feeling that sinking weight return to the pit of my stomach. “Be careful.” My eyelids fluttered closed at the concern in her voice. It was full of love and kindness…but worry, too. “I will,” I promised her. I went on to further promise that I would call her more often, and that of course I would keep her posted on everything, especially my mother’s health. By the time I arrived back at work and dived into a socialite’s wedding plans that Simone had dropped on my desk while I was gone, I realized that while I felt better after talking to Eleanor…I was not sure if any of my uncertainties had been alleviated, or my questions answered. — “How is she today?” I asked Claude as I stepped into the entryway of my parents’ home. His soft smile tilted down at the edges. “Awake now, I believe. But…” He drifted off, looking away from me, and I fought the urge to wrap my arms around him as he fought for

composure. My own emotions threatened to overwhelm me when I saw him looking so heartbroken. “I know.” I rested my hand on his forearm and squeezed gently. “You don’t have to tell me.” His fragile, aging hand rested on top of mine. “She’ll be filled with joy to see you, bella.” With a quick nod, I let go of him and placed my hand on the banister, heading up the stairs. My journey was long and slower than normal, most likely because I knew the end was coming closer. After my talk with Eleanor today, my emotions were still raw. I knew I didn’t have much time with my mom. Every time I saw her, her skin was paler, her voice weaker. She slept longer due to meds the home nurse continued to pump into her at an increasing rate. Sometime soon, my mom was going to drift off into a drug-induced sleep and never return. I blinked the tears out of my eyes at the thought and forced my way up the stairs and into her room. Brianna, my mom’s nurse, turned her head toward me and smiled as I entered. She stood with a washcloth in her hands and placed it in a bucket of water. “She’s cool.” She whispered, not because my mom was sleeping, but because, as I was learning, that’s just how people talked around people who were dying. “I was just washing her face with some warm water. Would you like to help?” No. It was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. “Sure,” I said anyway and walked to my mom’s side of the bed, slipping into the chair next to her. “I’ll leave you alone.” Brianna gestured to the alert necklace my mom wore. With a simple push of a button, an alarm sounded on Brianna’s cellphone. “Call me if you need me.” “Hey, sweetie.” My mom’s voice was gravelly and barely audible. I hated it. Hated that her breast cancer had metastasized to her brain where it was slowly killing her. I leaned forward and brushed my lips against her cool cheek. She shivered and I leaned back, tucking in the blankets around her more firmly. Then I took the warm cloth out of the water, wringing the excess water out. With slow and tender movements, I gently brushed it along my mom’s forehead and over her exposed hands. They were bone thin. “Having a good day?” “Every day I open my eyes and see someone I love is a good day.” She struggled through the sentence, pausing to cough. I couldn’t stop the tears from falling, tiny streams running down my cheeks. She pressed her cool hand against my right cheek, running her thumb down and wiping away the wetness. “Don’t cry for me.” “I need to tell you something.” My chin wobbled. She waited patiently for me to compose myself, only dropping her hand from my cheek to cover my hand on top of her blankets. “I can’t marry Malik.” Her eyelids fluttered closed and a strangled breath left her lips. “I thought you’d say that.” I turned my hand underneath hers so our palms touched and I could wrap my fingers around hers. “I don’t love him.” She laughed softly. I hated the hoarseness in her throat. The end was coming. I could feel it

taking her breath by breath, smile by smile. I wanted to run screaming from the room and demand justice for her. “You are stubborn. Like Eleanor.” She winked, teasing me. I choked out a laugh through the lump in my throat. “You raised me,” I accused. “So I did.” She leaned forward and coughed so hard I reached for the wet rag and held it over her mouth. With one hand on her back, I tried to soothe her through the coughing fit that made her flinch in pain. When she settled again, both of us had eyes filled with more tears. She pulled me to her, her palms on my cheeks, and pressed her lips to my forehead. “I love every minute I spent raising you,” she whispered, her breathing now ragged and spent. “Don’t ever doubt that. Even when I was here, and you were away, there has never been a moment when you haven’t been on my mind.” God. I lost the final thread of my self-control, the final barrier holding my emotions in check. Like a little girl, I scrambled from the chair I had been in and climbed into the bed next to my mom. “Let me hold you, my darling daughter,” she whispered, her lips pressing against my forehead again. Her arms were frail and lacked the strength, but it didn’t matter. We lay like that for several minutes, our soft cries the only sound in the room, and her love the only thing I felt. “Marry a man you love, Gabriella. If that man can’t be Malik, make sure he loves you fiercely and would risk his life to keep you safe.” I shook my head, unable to answer. Her weak grip tightened around me. “Promise me,” she said, her voice suddenly firmer than it had been in weeks. “Promise me this so I don’t worry about you.” “I promise.” I nodded frantically. I’d promise her anything in that moment. If she asked me to marry Malik again, I might have agreed. This was her dying wish for me. “I promise,” I said again, over and over. But she never responded. She had already fallen asleep, pulled down by the drugs and disease. I stayed there forever, too afraid to move out of fear that I would lose the feel of her arms around me one last time. Because neither of us had to say it. We both knew. This was our goodbye.

Chapter 16 I was completely emotionally drained by the time I arrived back at the hotel for one of my last nights there. I couldn’t wait to get into my apartment. A month in a hotel was way too long. After finally being awoken by my father, who didn’t seem to understand why my mom and I were curled around each other, I fell into another sob fest, that time on Clarissa’s shoulder. Later, I drove away, tears drying on my cheeks, and I couldn’t force myself to return to the hotel. Instead, I parked in the parking ramp and walked along the riverfront. The spring breeze did nothing to calm my turmoil or my heated skin. I had no idea how far I walked. How long I was gone. I only briefly remembered sending a text message to Tyson before I left my parents’ house saying, “I need you,” before I slipped my phone back into my purse and forgot all about it. I forgot about everything as I walked, everything except the memories of a woman who had always been strong. A woman who fell into a life she knew nothing about and embraced it as if she belonged. A woman who married a difficult man who somehow softened at her smile and her touch. She might not have baked. She might not have volunteered at my elementary school like so many other people’s parents, but there had never been a day when I doubted her love for me. I desired to be as strong as her, as graceful as her, as determined to be my own person as she was. I used to think about her when I was in Colorado, on dark quiet nights when I was alone, and wonder how in the world she was so easily able to walk away from her comfortable and enjoyable life to something that had to make her constantly feel dark and dirty. I never understood how she couldn’t see my father for who he was. But now I realized, she saw him clearly. She did then and she did now…and what she saw in my father, was what she wanted for me. Someone who loved me regardless of our vast differences, someone who would protect me. Someone who would die to keep me safe. I couldn’t help but wonder, as I strolled back to the Apollonio Hotel, my energy fading with every slow step, if I had found that with Tyson. I wondered if I had found a man who loved me as much as I loved him. “Blue.” His voice calling my name made my head jerk up. Tyson stood up from a bench outside the hotel. His hands hung loosely at his sides and he was dressed in a well-tailored, all-black suit and dress shirt. He could have looked just like one of my father’s business associates if any of them ever managed to look concerned or worried. The line between his brows dug deeper as he took a hesitant step toward me. “What are you doing here?” I asked, my throat and voice dry and scratchy. I had cried too

many tears. He cocked his head to the side. “You texted me. Said you needed me.” I had done that. I blinked twice, as if having to force the memory to the forefront of my mind. But as soon as it hit, my shoulders sagged. My chin trembled again and I nodded. “I did,” I said, as I began to cry again. I didn’t take another step before Tyson was in front of me. He wrapped his arms tightly around me. “You okay?” “No.” I shook my head, sniffing against the lapel of his suit. “I’m not.” “Shh. Let’s get you to your room.” His firm grip on me, the softness in his voice…it was too much. My knees quivered and I collapsed into him, losing the remaining strength I had before I saw him. “Shit,” he cursed and bent down. One of his hands went to my knees and then he hauled me to him, carrying me with one arm behind my back, the other beneath my legs. I burrowed into his chest, fisting his suit in my fingers. I didn’t say anything as he carried me through the hotel lobby, or when he adjusted his hold just enough to hit the button on the elevator for my floor. “I’m sorry,” I whispered when the doors shut behind us. “Nothing to be sorry about. I’m just glad you’re okay, I’ve been waiting here for hours.” Hours. Had it been that long since I sent that text? I had no idea. Time passed by while I’d been lost on the riverfront but it didn’t matter. Because I needed him—and he came. He waited for me. “I’ve been calling you like crazy,” he said as the elevator doors opened. “I was starting to freak the hell out when you didn’t answer your phone.” “It’s in my purse,” I answered. “I think I turned it off.” I shifted in his hold when we reached my door, signaling that he could put me down. Once on my feet, with his arm still wrapped around my back, I dug through my purse and grabbed my keycard. I inserted it into the lock with minimal problems and opened the door. I stepped through it, knowing Tyson was following me, and just as I set my purse down on the table next to the door, I was swept back into his arms and once again being carried down a hall. I was too exhausted, too wrung dry to insist I could walk by myself. I didn’t want to. It felt good to be in Tyson’s arms and be cared for by him. When we reached my bed, his arm at my back tightened as he bent down to pull down the covers. Then he placed me on the bed and I curled to my side, not wanting to take my eyes off him. “Want to talk about it?” he asked and ran the back of his knuckles down the side of my face. His thumb wiped away my tears. I shook my head, but murmured, “My mom.” It was all I could say before I felt his hands at my ankles. He dropped my shoes on the floor, and shifted my body, lifting my hips while he removed my skirt. Then he pulled me to a sitting position so he could remove my top. I let him undress me like a rag doll, too exhausted to move my limbs. As he reached around to my back to remove my bra, my forehead fell to

his shoulder. “I can get undressed,” I told him, even though he’d already done most of the work. His hand grazed my back up to the nape of my neck. His lips pressed against my ear. “I want to take care of you.” A shudder rolled through me as he laid me back down, disappearing for only a moment before he came back with a tank top I’d slept in before. He quickly slid it on me. “Do you need to brush your teeth?” I shook my head, no. “I’m too tired.” He chuckled, and it made me smile. With another lift, I was in his arms, carried to the bathroom, and then gently set down on the vanity. I did nothing while he put toothpaste on my brush and handed it to me. Then he filled a cup with water and held up an empty one so I could spit in it. “I feel foolish,” I admitted, once I’d spit and rinsed my mouth. “Don’t. We all need someone to take care of us, and while you’re there for your mom and your family, I want to be the one you lean on.” Another warm shiver rolled down my spine as he lifted me again. Then I was back in my bed, curled to my side, but this time facing his side of the bed. I was too exhausted to open my eyes, but I reached out toward him when he pulled away. “Don’t leave me.” “I’m just getting undressed.” “Okay,” I whispered, already feeling the darkness of sleep and emotional overload pulling me down. Then he was back, lying down next to me and pulling me to him so my head was on his shoulder, his heartbeat to my ear. He placed my hand on his chest. “Sleep well, Blue. I’ve got you.” But I couldn’t respond to tell him thank you because I’d already fallen asleep. — I woke up with red, scratchy eyes and a cold bed next to me. Blinking the haze of sleep away, I wondered briefly if I had dreamt everything that happened last night, but when I rolled over and saw a note propped up by my phone, which had been plugged into the charger, a grin pulled at my lips. With sleepy movements, I reached for the note and flipped it open. It took me a moment to focus my blurry eyes on the confident scratches of Tyson’s writing. Bluejay— Early meeting today and a busy week ahead. Sorry I couldn’t be there when you woke up. Call me if you need anything and I’ll be there. Yours…always,

Blackbird The immature smiley face after his equally immature nickname made me laugh. Even more immaturely, I pressed the note to my chest, clasping it with both hands. And like I did in high school, I sighed. Because he loved me. His words might confuse me sometimes, but it was the actions that made the man. Last night, Tyson showed me exactly the kind of man he was, and how he felt about me, barely saying a word. It was enough for me. With renewed confidence in my relationship, and knowing these next two days at work were going to be crazy with getting ready for Saturday night’s benefit, I slid out from beneath the warmth of the hotel’s bedsheets and showered. The workday flew by. Simone and I spent the morning ensuring everything was now set to go for Saturday, confirming last minute RSVPs and changing the seating arrangements accordingly. I grimaced as I set my own name next to Malik’s at the head table. We’d be dining with the CEO of Ford, the president of Detroit’s largest bank, and two other CEOs of smaller companies, along with each of their wives or mistresses. My skin went cold just thinking about the influence Malik would have over these men, the shady dealings he probably already had with them. Being paraded around on his arm and joining him at dinner, like I was someone important to him, was the last way I wanted to spend Saturday evening. We took a break for a Caesar salad lunch, eaten at the conference table in Simone’s office, but my stomach swirled with the thought of what lay ahead of me. I didn’t know why I thought it would be so easy to step out from under my father’s rule when I returned home. Pure naiveté, probably, and the fact that I hadn’t spoken to him in ten years. I’d forgotten how determined and stubborn he truly could be. I had a few other stores where I wanted to look for furniture, boutique type places with more unique pieces than the large, traditional box stores that took me out closer to Latham Hills. Then I needed to go back and spend more time with my mom. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to have another meltdown like I did last night, when I fell into Tyson’s arms afterward. After I purchased and scheduled delivery for the living room furniture, light teal–painted and distressed tables and a coordinating gray-blue bookshelf along with a rug with hints of salmon that tied the colors together, I figured there was no harm in stopping by Tyson’s office on my way back home. Perhaps he could stop for a quick bite to eat. I wanted to see his smile and feel his touch before I spent the rest of the night in a home I despised while losing one of the few people I cared about in this world. His grandfather’s firm was easy to find. It was a small, nondescript two-story building just off Main Street. Based on memory, I knew it was close enough for Tyson to walk to work if he wanted to, and it was just three or four blocks down from the Fireside Grill. I pulled into the small office parking lot and noticed Tyson’s black truck.

Unbidden, my pulse began to flutter just knowing that he was there. Something happened last night when Tyson wrapped me in his arms, carried me, and held me all night long. He changed from being someone I wanted…to someone I needed. His strength, knowing he was here for me, knowing he was only a phone call away, helped me to know that whatever was going to come my way soon, I could bear it with him by my side. The outside doors of the building opened to an octagonal rotunda with a winding staircase directly in the middle. The building wasn’t large by any means, but it was full of bright sunshine coming from a skylight. After a quick scan of the directory inside the door, I headed to my right and found Tyson’s office on the main floor. I opened the door and was assaulted by a familiar scent that had nothing to do with Tyson. When we dated when we were younger, I was invited to several gatherings at his family’s house for holiday dinners and special occasions. There was absolutely nothing that could ever make me forget the smell of his grandmother’s perfume. When I heard a feminine gasp come from my left, I already knew who I was going to see when I turned. I came face-to-face with a woman who had held me in her arms and pressed her lips to my cheeks many times. “Blue?” Mary Anne, Tyson’s grandmother asked, even as she was already pushing away from her desk. “Good Lord, child! What on Earth are you doing here?” Her smile spread wide as she moved toward me. “Hello, Mary Anne,” I said, closing the distance between us. When I reached her, she gathered me in her arms and that same scent of her skin and hair assaulted my nose. I inhaled, breathing in the warmth and familiarity of the kind woman in front of me. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she said, pulling back from me. “Tyson told me he’s seen you since he’s been back in town.” I nodded and let go of her. “Yes, I was actually wondering if he’s in.” A small frown made tiny lines pop up around her mouth. “He is. But unfortunately he’s in a meeting. Did he know you were coming?” “No.” I shook my head and took the woman in. She’d definitely aged, and she had to be nearing seventy. Her hair was clearly dyed and she had a few more wrinkles, but she still looked incredible. I was certain it was because she had always taken care of herself by walking daily and playing in a ladies’ golf league. “This was more of a surprise visit.” “Oh. I don’t know how long this meeting will take.” “Do you mind if I wait?” “Not at all.” She grinned and pulled me toward a small love seat in the reception area. “How about I go get us some coffee and we can catch up? Tyson’s told me some…about your mom…” She trailed off and frowned again. “I’m so sorry, honey.” “Thank you,” I whispered, emotion thickening my voice. That was one of the things I loved about being around Tyson and his family. They were quick to show affection and compassion. Feeling it and hearing it then left me trembling. I’d gone all day without crying, without thinking of the conversation with my mom last night. I didn’t want to lose it now. Sensing my distress, Mary Anne patted my hand before stepping away. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Just black, please.” “Very well.” She gave me a gentle smile as I sat on the small couch. “I’ll be just a minute and then we’ll have some girl time.” I chuckled, shaking my head as she walked away. Once she was gone, I took my phone out of my purse and let out a relieved breath when I saw that I hadn’t missed any calls. No news from anyone was good news as far as I was concerned. I did a quick check of my email and was sliding my phone back into my purse when two angry male voices came from down a hallway in front of me. My head instantly perked up as they came closer and I recognized one of the voices. “This shit gets tied up and soon,” one of the men snapped. “I tried to warn you.” Tyson’s voice echoed. He sounded furious and I rolled my shoulders back, affected by his emotion even though it was not directed at me. I couldn’t even see him. “Get her under control. We need more information.” “She doesn’t know anything.” The voices grew louder as the two men stepped into the lobby. Both of them were formidable in their matching black suits. Tyson’s black hair was slicked back and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. The other man’s stance was equally intimidating. They looked like equals, although the man I didn’t know was older, with his dark brown hair dotted with light gray at the temples. His jaw tightened and he leaned forward, hissing, “This case will be wrapped by the weekend. Do your part.” I jolted from the fury rolling off him. The slight movement caught Tyson’s attention, and his jaw locked and his head snapped toward me. “Blue?” he asked, clearly shocked to see me. “What are you doing here?” The other man seemed to be forgotten for a moment as Tyson moved to step around him. But the man’s arm reached out and snagged Tyson’s biceps. “Finish this,” he sneered. Tyson barely spared him a glance and shook him off. “Blackwell.” “I’m on it,” Tyson said, waving him off. “See you Saturday.” Dismissed, the angry older man stomped passed him, slashing me with a chilling glare as he passed. He threw open the door to the main entrance and disappeared. “Who was that?” I asked, surprised by my breathless tone. Tyson’s hands relaxed and then balled into fists again as he took another step toward me. He shook his head, as if clearing his mind, and sighed. “An angry client, that’s all.” I could still see the tension and the anger hardening his features but they relaxed when he joined me on the couch. “Are you okay?” I nodded. “Yeah, but I was in the neighborhood so I thought I’d stop by. I know you’re working late but I was wondering if you could take a quick dinner break.” He dropped his head and with one hand, reached out to cover mine in my lap. “I’ve got some things I have to finish up tonight. Can you wait an hour?” I shook my head. “I need to get home.” He leaned forward and cupped my cheek, brushing his lips again mine. This kiss was quick

and unexpected, but the simmering warmth that rippled through my veins when his lips were on mine wasn’t. I always had that reaction when Tyson kissed me. “What if I come to your place later tonight and bring you some ice cream?” I laughed against his lips. “That sounds really good.” “You sure you’re okay?” I nodded. “Yeah. I will be.” He kissed me again and held me, just as Mary Anne returned holding two coffee mugs in her hands. “Oh.” Her eyebrows jumped. “Tyson. I thought you had a meeting.” “I did.” His eyes narrowed and he shot her a look I didn’t fully understand. She turned to me. She extended a coffee mug toward me but then pulled it back. “You two going somewhere? Blue and I were going to catch up.” “Maybe another night, Mary Anne,” I said. “I’m sorry. I need to get some food and get home.” Understanding flashed in her eyes. “Of course. Another day, then. Tyson must bring you to dinner soon.” “I would love it.” I squeezed Tyson’s hand and looked up at him. A worry line appeared between his brows and his smile was fake when he looked back at me. “Sometime soon. Definitely.” A coolness permeated the air and left an awkward silence rippling in its wake. “I should probably go.” Turning to Mary Anne, I lifted my hand in a wave. “It was wonderful to see you again.” “You too, honey. And know that I’m praying for you and your family.” Emotion clogged my throat as she set down the coffee mugs and walked toward me. She pressed her lips to my cheek and squeezed my shoulders. “Thank you,” I managed to choke out. “I’ll walk you out,” Tyson said when Mary Anne pulled back from me. “I’ll be back in a minute.” “Take your time.” She smiled again, and I blew her a kiss as Tyson pulled me out of the office and to my car. “I’m sorry about this,” Tyson said. His voice still carried the lingering tension from his conversation with the other man, as if he hadn’t fully been able to calm down yet. “There’s a lot of shit going on right now that I need to focus on.” “I understand,” I told him. I did. Work sometimes had to come first. To prove it to him, I rolled to my toes and pressed my lips against his. “I knew you were busy, and you’re just getting on your feet here, too. I just thought I’d take the chance to see you while I was close.” The edges of his lips tilted up into a smile. “I’m glad you did.” “I missed you this morning,” I whispered. “I missed you all day.” His hands cupped the sides of my neck and he leaned down to brush his lips against mine. “I miss you all the time.”

“Tyson,” I whispered, shuddering beneath his soft touch. “I know. I feel it too.” He pulled back so I could see in his eyes that he was not lying. His pupils were larger, the blue surrounding them dark as stormy nights. “Later, I’ll show you how much.” My body gave another shiver of anticipation. “Sounds good.” “Go on.” He stepped back and dropped his hand from my neck before opening the door to my car. “Go do what you need to do and I’ll see you later.” “Bye,” I said, lifting my hand. As I pulled out, Tyson watched me, arms crossed over his chest, a pensive look on his face mixed with the desire he still held for me shining bright in his eyes.

Chapter 17 Unable to curb my increasing hunger and not wanting to wait until I got home, I decided to stop by Fireside and grab something to eat quickly before heading to the house. My phone was still silent, which meant there was no new news to report on my mom. While I wanted to see her, I also wasn’t sure I could handle another evening like last night. The Fireside Grill felt just as warm and inviting as it did the night when I met Tyson there. There weren’t many customers, just a few families and couples eating in the dining area, but the bar area was much busier. Forgoing a seat in the dining area, I headed straight for a stool at the bar, where I had to wait while a tall, young, and lanky man filled a pitcher of what looked like margarita and slid it to a petite and pretty brunette at the other end. “Looks delicious,” I told him when his attention was finally on me. “Can I have a margarita too, please?” I nodded toward the table of women who were sitting at a high-top, laughing loudly, and looking like they were having a great time. A small ache pierced my chest as Charlie, based on the nametag, turned and filled my drink order. I never had a group of friends like these women. They seemed so close as they boisterously teased one another, laughing loudly and unabashedly. Turning away, I smiled as Charlie placed the drink in front of me. “Anything else I can get for you?” Charlie asked. “A menu, please,” I said, and then changed my mind. “Actually, I already know what I want.” “Well that’s rare,” he said, grinning. “What is?” “A woman who knows what she wants.” I laughed and rolled my eyes at his flirtatious teasing. “I’ll take a buffalo burger, please. If you can manage that.” Charlie leaned forward on the bar and placed his elbows on the bar top. “Knows what she wants and has a great appetite. My kind of lady.” “Does flirting with all your customers help your tips?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. “Yes,” he answered drily. “Then I’ll keep it in mind. As long as the burger is good.” He stepped back and patted the bar. “That burger’s the best there is in the state.” “I have no doubt. I bet Declan is a great cook.” The waiter turned from his register where he had been punching in my order and arched a brow. “You know Declan?” “I met him once. We have a mutual friend, I suppose you could say.”

“And would that friend be a man?” Charlie asked, teasing me. I couldn’t avoid the blush that hit my cheeks. My silence said everything. Charlie threw his head back and laughed. Then I jumped in my seat as he bellowed across the entire restaurant, “Yo! Declan! Get your butt out here and come say hi to your friend!” “Oh my God,” I muttered, my shoulders shaking with restrained laughter. “You are insane.” “I’m incorrigible,” he said, giving me a serious look. “My mom told me that every day.” Insane, incorrigible, I was beginning to think there wasn’t a difference. “Blue?” I jumped in my seat as Declan approached from the kitchen. He had come as soon as Charlie shouted. It had been so loud I’m surprised the lightbulbs didn’t burst. “Hi, Declan.” I lifted my hand out for him to shake but he didn’t stop moving as he reached me. He leaned forward, clasping my shoulders with his hands, and placed his lips against my temple. “Good to see you, meeting Ty here?” I shook my head. “No. He has to work late. I just wanted to grab a burger before I head to my parents’ house.” “Sounds good. I’ll get right on that for you.” “No rush.” “A friend of Tyson’s is a friend of mine, Blue.” “Thanks, then,” I told him. He turned his attention to Charlie and scowled, pointing a finger. “You shout like that again and you’re fired.” “Hey,” Charlie said, lifting his hands and taking a step back. “Of course. Next time a beautiful woman is sitting at your bar, telling me she knows you, I’ll just let you ignore her. Gotcha.” “You’re a pain in my ass,” Declan muttered as he walked away. Based on the wink he flashed me, I figured he was joking. For some strange reason, Charlie was completely enjoyable. But young, way too young for me. I would guess that he had just barely turned twenty-one, based on the still slightly boyish features of his face. “You love me!” Charlie shouted to Declan’s back. He showed me a mouthful of teeth with his large grin and shook his head. “I’m not sure antagonizing your boss is the best choice.” “We have fun here, and he knows I wouldn’t risk my job by pissing him off. It’s all good.” He gave a shameless shrug and began wiping down the bar top. I lost myself in the mind-numbing silence of the televisions above the bar and sipped my drink, taking my time and keeping in mind the fact I still had to drive in a little while. I was watching ESPN baseball highlights, something I couldn’t care less about, when a female voice next to me made me jump in my seat for the third time that night. “You know Declan?” My head jerked back and I turned to find one of the women from the table who’d been

drinking margaritas standing in front of me and smiling happily. “Umm.” I had no idea who these people were, but when I glanced over her shoulder, they were all shooting me curious looks, giggling into their drinks. “Um…sort of.” “Oh, of course. That was awfully rude. I’m Paige. My friends and I come here almost every Thursday night.” She leaned in and whispered. “In truth, my friends and I love to ogle Declan every time we can get a glimpse of him. He humors us because Thursdays are his margarita night and we drink them by the pitcher. I figure our nights here are very profitable for him.” “Oh…” My lips parted, stunned by this woman in front of me. She was either slightly crazy or one of the friendliest people I’d ever met in my life. “I haven’t seen you here before,” she said. She glanced at Charlie and flashed him a wink as he walked by. “Cute, isn’t he? I tell ya, the men in this town keep getting better looking by the minute.” My mind whirled, trying to keep up with her. “So are you new here?” she asked, startling me again. As her friends went back to laughing, I began to relax. She seemed genuinely curious, if a little crazy. “Yeah,” I replied. “I’ve been living in Colorado, but Detroit is home. I’m moving into an apartment in town this weekend.” “And how do you know Declan?” “I’m sort of dating a friend of his.” I chewed on my lip, wondering if I had said too much. “That’s fantastic. And we have to hear more. Or anything you know about Declan really. Seriously, my friend Suzanne over there has nightly dreams about the man…but she’s married.” Her hand wrapped around mine and she tugged me off my chair. I had no choice but to follow her, unless I wanted to rip my hand out of hers. That would either cause a scene or spill my drink, so I opted to go with her. “Charlie!” she shouted, seemingly not caring that she was pulling a stranger behind her. “Bring our new friend a chair; she’s joining us.” “Oh, I really can’t.” I dragged my feet into the carpet. “I’m sorry, but I just came to eat. I really can’t stay.” “That’s okay.” She shrugged and smiled. Did she ever stop doing either? “You can eat with us. It’s better than being alone.” She had a point. Still…“I don’t really know Declan. I’ve only met him once.” “That’s okay, too. You can ogle him along with the rest of Latham Hills.” I lost the fight and quickly snagged my drink while she tugged me along. When we got to the table, she waved her hand at everyone. “Everyone, this is…” Her bright eyes widened and she suddenly looked embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even ask your name.” “Blue.” I looked at the three other women sitting around the table. Their faces were all equally happy, with slightly flushed cheeks from the margaritas they’d been drinking; they seemed friendly and open. “My name is Blue.” “Awesome name,” a blonde chirped next to me. She held out her hand. “I’m Suzanne. Ignore Paige, she’s not as insane as she looks, just friendly.”

I laughed along with the rest of them and took a sip of my drink. I was quickly introduced to Chelsea and Camden, both of them sitting across the table from me and just as welcoming as Suzanne and Paige. “Come on,” Paige said when Charlie appeared behind me with my stool. “Have a seat. We come here all the time, and Chelsea and Camden practically grew up in this town, so they know everyone and everything.” She turned to the table and finally took a breath. “Blue just moved here from Colorado and is moving into an apartment this weekend.” “The Hills?” Chelsea asked. “Yes,” I answered, somewhat hesitantly. As if she understood, she smiled. “Everyone new to the area moves there. They’re great places from what I’ve heard and seen.” For the next several minutes, while I waited for my burger, I was peppered with questions about everything possible in my life. As the conversation continued around me, I was flooded with a sense of warmth even amidst the confusion stemming from being pulled into a conversation with women who seemed to have been friends forever. For the last ten years, I’d stuck to myself and Eleanor, and taking online classes in college didn’t exactly give me a great social life. Plus, there weren’t many people my age near where we lived. Yet these women had no problems pulling me into their fold, making me feel warm and welcome. And even if it was just for the night, if we didn’t become great friends, I welcomed what they provided. A hush fell over the table, and Camden’s mouth dropped open as a shadow fell behind me. Next to me, Suzanne whispered, “Damn he’s fine.” Across the table, Chelsea giggled into her hand. “Hi, Declan,” Paige said, in what I was thinking was her general cheerful tone. “Your burger,” he rumbled, and set my burger onto the table in front of me. It was massive and smelled delicious. I turned to look at him over my shoulder and grinned. “Thanks, Declan.” “Anything for you.” “What about us?” Suzanne chirped. He feigned a scowl. “Your husband know you’re here again?” “Oh, yeah,” Suzanne drawled and winked. “You know how he feels about you.” Declan shook his head and rolled his eyes. He seemed exasperated by these women, and who could blame him? They were a lot to take in. “Need anything else, Blue?” he asked and glanced around the table. “A quiet place to eat? A gun to shoot yourself in the head?” The women laughed. I snorted and shook my head. “I think I’m good.” “Take care then and tell Ty to give me a ring.” “Will do.” I grinned as he walked away. Then I laughed to myself as Paige and Suzanne both placed their elbows on the table, chin in their palms and with stars in their eyes, watched as Declan sauntered away from the table and back into the kitchen. “Damn, he’s so hot,” Paige whispered wistfully.

Suzanne raised her margarita glass high in the air. “Amen, sister.” Chelsea and Camden both shook their heads, laughing and playing along. I took a bite of my burger, hiding the largest grin I’d ever worn in my life. — “I come with gifts.” Tyson grinned and held up his hands. One held a bottle of white wine and the other a plastic bag. I assumed it contained my ice cream. “Damn, I’m glad to you see you,” I whispered, my eyes on the treat currently calling my name. I opened the door and let Tyson through, shutting it behind him. “I’m glad to be here.” I smirked at his back. “I was talking about the wine.” He shot me a look over his shoulder and huffed. “Nice to see where I fall.” “I’m kidding.” Tyson set down the wine and bag of ice cream on the entry table and kicked off his Adidas sandals. My gaze traveled down his body, which was dressed in a simple black T-shirt and dark gray athletic pants, down to his bare feet. He looked damn good in his suit earlier, but there was something undeniably sexy about a man in athletic attire. It clung to all the right places. “Come on.” He grabbed my hand and picked up the bag. I snagged the bottle of wine from the table and followed him into the suite’s small living area. He sat me on the couch and took the wine from my hands. “What would you like first?” “Wine.” “Stay here.” “I can help,” I said, pushing off the couch to stand. “You can, but you’ve had a long day. I want to do this for you.” I relaxed back into the couch and smiled. “Thank you,” I replied and rested my head against the back of the couch. He was right. I had had a long day, but his had been equally long. The fact that he was still willing and wanted to take care of me, even though he had been working since this morning, made my heart flutter a bit faster inside my chest. This was what being with Tyson would be like. Him taking care of me. Lots of understanding and compassion. They were things I had received from few people in my life, and never a man. “Here,” he said quietly, and joined me, standing next to the couch. I opened my eyes and turned to him, taking the offered glass of wine out of his hands. It was chilled and delicious. A small moan of pleasure escaped my lips as I took my first sip. He sat next to me, bending one leg so he was facing me, and draped his arm against the back of the couch. His fingertips played with my hair. “How was it?” “At my mom’s?” One shoulder shrugged. The vibe at my parents’ house was strange tonight. Cars and SUVs lined their driveway

when I pulled in, and even though I hadn’t seen the numerous men that had to be there, I had definitely heard the raised voices filtering out of my father’s office. Everyone seemed tense, with emotions running high. I assumed it had to do with my father stepping down and making plans to hand over his leadership to Malik. I guessed it had more to do with what Malik had told me about other crime families threatening to take what my father believed to be his. What I witnessed and heard tonight seemed bigger…darker. As I went upstairs to see my mom, two men dressed in black suits had left my father’s office, shouting obscenities as they hustled out the front door. Before they reached the entryway, they both turned around, sent me a glare that instantly chilled my spine, and then left. It took me several moments before I was able to catch my breath and move up the stairs after that. And once I was in my mom’s room, I still didn’t feel safe. Something was going on. Whatever my father was doing now wasn’t good. I could still feel the lingering tension and darkness in the air in my parents’ house as I sat and thought about it. I shivered and shook my head to erase the feeling. “What is it?” Tyson asked, his hand sliding from my hair to my shoulder. “Nothing.” I frowned, shook my head again. “My mom was fine, I guess. Sleeping, waking up only to cough. I doubt she realized I was there.” I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to find the words to say what I was feeling about it, but nothing came. There was nothing to say about watching someone you love lose her life with every passing breath. Fortunately, Tyson let me have my silence while we sipped our wine. “How’s your dad handling it?” I frowned. He hated talking about my dad, and I was surprised he’d brought him up. “I don’t know, honestly,” I said. “Clarissa said he hasn’t been home much this week. Busy with something. He’d never let me see him hurting over her, anyway.” I forced a smile and turned to him, wanting to change the subject. “How was your day?” Tyson’s finger slid through my hair until he reached the ends. His look was soft. Pensive. “Pain in my ass, to be honest.” “I’m sorry.” I lifted my wine glass and tipped the top of my glass toward his, clinking them together. “At least we have alcohol.” His eyes crinkled at the edges and then our eyes locked on each other. “Maybe what I want isn’t alcohol.” I choked over the lump in my throat, desire already starting to build. He only looked at me with seductive intent and I understood what he wanted. Even knowing it, I still flashed him a teasing grin. “Ice cream?” He shook his head slowly and lifted his glass to his lips, draining it one large sip. “Nope.” “Dinner?” I asked, my lips twitching and fighting a smile. Tyson stood up and held out his hand to me. I placed mine inside his and let him pull me to my feet. “Not hungry for food.” “What are you hungry for?” But I already knew. Showing him, I rolled to my toes and kissed him, licking my lips right before mine met his. “You,” he growled, his lips against mine. Then he opened his mouth, his tongue sliding out and tasting my lips. He controlled the kiss as he tilted my head with his warm hands until I

was at the angle he wanted me. “Let me take you to bed and show you how much.” “You have me,” I whispered, pulling back from him. Desire pooled in his dark blues as his eyes scanned my face. I waited, breathless and lips parted, hoping he could see the truth…and understand that I meant so much more. With a nod so small I almost missed it, his shoulders relaxed beneath my hands. His whole body seemed to melt with my admission. And then I let him tug me down the hall. Because I wanted him to show me how much he wanted me. I wanted to show him how much I needed him. — “I’m going to be out of town tomorrow. And I won’t be back until Saturday.” “Oh.” I was disappointed. I wanted to see him again before I had to see Malik. “Okay.” Sitting up in the bed, I tugged the sheets up over my chest and wrapped my arms around my stomach. It was morning and I couldn’t help but enjoy the view as Tyson began pulling on his pants and tugging on his shirt. My fingers itched to grab everything he was putting on and rip it off, before I pulled him back to bed. “I want you to come to my place after the benefit,” he said when he was done dressing. A small line appeared between his eyes. “It might be late.” He scowled. “It better not be. And I want you in my bed after I know you’ve spent the night with another man. I might need to remind you of what we’re doing together.” “And what is that?” I hesitated to ask but did it anyway. I knew how I felt. I was pretty sure I knew how Tyson felt. My breath caught in my chest as I waited for him to answer. And when he did, I was not disappointed. “We’re building our second chance. The life we should have had together before it was taken away.” “Oh…okay.” My cheeks warmed with heat as he kissed me. It was soft and languid, our tongues rolling around each other’s as he slid his into my mouth. “Saturday, Blue.” “Saturday,” I agreed, before pulling him back to me. His hands were braced on the bed next to my waist so I glided one of my hands around to the back of his neck and pulled him toward me. I took his weight as he adjusted and a hum of approval fell from my lips as his body covered me. “Maybe you can remind me, now.” He chuckled softly and peppered my cheeks, jaw, and throat with slow kisses. “I wish I could stay, I really do. But once I get this case taken care of, we’ll have more time together.” I pouted, unable to help it. Already my body was warming, my most intimate areas pulsing with desire. “Promise me,” he said, resting his forehead against mine. “After the benefit you come to me.” His voice was so stern, so serious, that it made something lump in my throat. “Why?”

“Just promise me.” I frowned, unable to figure out why his plea sounded so ominous. Then I nodded and trailed my fingertips down his scruffy cheeks, stopping at his lips. He nipped the tip of my finger with his teeth and grinned, but even I noticed it didn’t reach his eyes. “Is everything okay?” I asked when he pushed off the bed and stood up. “It will be.” Shifting, I reached over and grabbed my robe and slipped into it as I climbed out of bed. “There’s something you’re not telling me.” Tyson chewed the inside of his lip before he grinned. He was a master of his emotions, able to hide the ones he didn’t want me to see, but as he walked toward me and placed his hands on my hips, and then dropped his lips to mine, I learned that he couldn’t hide them all. “You’re right. But if you can be at my place Saturday, I promise to tell you everything that I haven’t been able to yet.” An icy chill slithered into my veins even as I found myself nodding. “Okay, Tyson. Saturday.” He kissed me again, pressing his lips to my forehead and inhaling at the same time. As he walked away, I couldn’t help but think that somehow… Saturday was not going to come fast enough.

Chapter 18 “You are stunning, Gabriella.” “Thank you.” I dipped my chin at Malik’s praise. I allowed him to take my arm, and he grasped my elbow with his hand, cupping it while he guided me into the waiting limo. I had to admit, the beautiful navy gown I had on fit me perfectly. I chose something that radiated class and elegance but didn’t show too much skin. I still didn’t want Malik to get the wrong idea, and with a sweetheart neckline that revealed just a hint of cleavage, the dress wasn’t overtly sexual. The designer gown cost a mint, but after I slid it on in the dressing room, I had to have it. It left a nice dent in my credit card, but with the money I was making at DPA, I wasn’t worried. It was luxurious and soft. And while Malik’s compliment made me blush, it was Tyson’s opinion and expression that I couldn’t wait to see later on. Malik climbed into the limo behind me, sitting next to me on the bench. As he sat, he adjusted himself on the seat, moving closer to me. It felt too close, too intimate, and I had to wipe a scowl off my face when he turned and smiled down at me. “Champagne?” “Please,” I whispered, pushing down the frustration. A part of me wanted to remind Malik what we spoke of earlier this week. This was not a night where he could try to seduce me into getting what he wanted. I wanted to remind him that I was with someone. That I would never be his. The other part wanted to just get through this evening with as little conflict as possible. Once I refused to marry him, and revealed everything to my father, I would never attend an event of this magnitude again. And while I wouldn’t miss it, I did want to enjoy the evening and the hard work that Simone and I had finally pulled off. I took the glass of champagne from Malik when he pointed a flute in my direction, taking care that our fingers didn’t brush, and quickly brought it to my lips. The bubbles simmered on my tongue, warming my mouth and my throat as I swallowed. “This is delicious,” I told him honestly. His reaction was pleased, and his smile was light as he watched me take another sip. “Tell me how your job is going. Are you enjoying being at DPA?” I glanced at him to find he looked genuinely curious as he leaned back in his seat, champagne glass held gingerly in his large hands. “I don’t think the week before a party like this was probably the best time to start,” I admitted, thinking back to all the fires Simone had to put out and all the issues I had helped her solve. “And yet, it was probably the best way, too. I’ve learned a lot in a short amount of time.” Malik nodded his understanding. “Baptism by fire, you might say.” I grinned into my champagne glass. “Yes. It’s been exactly like that.” “You don’t have to be nervous with me, Gabriella,” Malik stated after a moment of a

silence. “I intend to keep my word with you.” I swallowed thickly, not realizing that my nerves and doubt were written so plainly on my face. Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I whispered, “Thank you. I appreciate that.” “That being said,” he began and leaned forward. As he did, his eyes darkened and his lips pulled into a straight line. “There is a conversation that we must have.” I jerked in my seat, startled at the sudden shift in his demeanor. “What is it?” “We’ll save it for after the party. I don’t wish to ruin our fun or the evening for you.” While that was nice, polite even, that same tense feeling that had been in my father’s house all week began to fill the car, thickening the air between us. “Malik—” “Later.” He pressed the tip of his champagne glass to his mouth, signaling to me that he wasn’t going to discuss it further. “For now, let’s enjoy the evening, each other’s company, and do the jobs we’re supposed to be doing.” His suggestion was more like a warning—one I didn’t fully understand. My brow crinkled in confusion, but then I nodded, because I had no other choice. “Okay,” I whispered, glancing down at my own champagne glass. “I won’t like this conversation we’re going to have later, will I?” “Do you ever enjoy anything that has to do with your father’s business or your family?” “I think that’s my answer,” I muttered, lips pulling into a frown. He chuckled and I felt my own lips twitch. At least he found me humorous. “I can guarantee you an evening of seeing your work on display, excellent food…” He paused, and I lifted my eyes to see his lips twitching, fighting a smile. “And perhaps, semidecent company.” While I didn’t appreciate the warning of what would occur later, I did appreciate his attempts to lighten the mood in the car. To show him, I raised my champagne glass to his and give him a wink. “To semi-decent company this evening.” His eyes crinkled at the outer edges as his smile widened. “Cheers.” — Dinner was incredibly fabulous. I dined on delicious rack of lamb and roasted vegetables. Waiters appeared on a well-timed schedule changing the courses, from a palate cleanser to a soup, a brief salad, and then the main course, followed by a beautiful dessert mousse that tasted like my favorite, french silk pie, except a thousand times better. And as we had discussed in the limo, the company was decent. Better than semi-decent, truly. Malik was nothing less than a gentleman at every opportunity, and he kept our physical space appropriate except for when he placed his hand on my back to guide me wherever he wanted to go. And there was a lot of guiding and leading. The number of politicians in the gorgeous dining hall at the Museum of Contemporary Art Detroit was astounding. There were even more wealthy business leaders. There was a smattering of famous athletes and models. A few celebrity musicians also joined together to raise millions of dollars for breast cancer research.

A part of me knew it was all for show. The room was filled with powerful men and women. As they figuratively opened their wallets to donate funds or bid on silent auction items that included expensive jewels and glorious vacations, I could practically see the men’s hard-ons when they realized they had more money than their adversaries. Despite that, I still appreciated the monetary donations as well as the support for my mom that many people came to give me in hushed tones and whispers. It was not lost on me that people in this crowd loved my mother. Their pain and sincerity when they realized I was her daughter, and that neither of my parents were in attendance at their own benefit, was clear. I was moved to tears several times throughout the evening, and it was always when I began to fear that I would lose control of those emotions that Malik quickly, yet also with sympathy, led me to a private space, slid a glass of champagne into my hands, and gave me the quiet moment I needed to get myself under control. I was in awe of not only his understanding of me, but also his ability to quickly take control in a kind way. I wanted to believe that I had been wrong about him, that if I chose to make a life with him, I would become more than a showpiece on his arm at events like this. Yet beneath the kindness, a cunningness lingered in his eyes that made me quickly toss away that notion. It was clear from his mannerisms that he spent the night calculating and planning, regardless of whom he was speaking to. His own conversations in hushed but firm whispers didn’t go unnoticed by me, and several times he walked away from men that he didn’t bother to introduce me to with a muscle jumping in his cheek. Which was exactly what he was doing now. He left me five minutes ago and stepped outside with a gentleman I had never met. But their meeting seemed urgent, and when Malik told me “I’ll be back. Stay here,” I did exactly what he said. My eyes had stayed trained on the door across the room that he had gone through, so I wasn’t surprised when he entered the ballroom and prowled across the dance floor toward me, with heads snapping in his direction as he passed them, as if I was the one who had clearly pissed him off. “We’re leaving,” he snapped as soon as he reached me. I glanced at the women I’d been speaking with; two of them were the governor’s wife and daughter, the women I had promised I would pass the florist’s name to. The governor’s wife looked at me with wide eyes as I stepped away immediately. “Okaaay,” I said, drawing out the word. I set my full glass of champagne down on the nearest table and turned to follow Malik as quickly as I could. As we reached the exit to the ballroom, his hand clasped around my elbow with such force I tried to jerk out of his touch. “What is it?” I glanced at his hard features and watched another muscle tic. “That talking I said we’d do later?” His eyes met mine, and I saw nothing but chilling coolness. They turned black as onyx. “I’ve recently received news that means we can no longer wait.” “I don’t think you need to hurt me,” I said, still refusing to follow him. He glanced down at his hand on my elbow and loosened his grip.

“My apologies.” Blood flow began to return to my lower arm, and I brushed my hands down the sides of my dress. “Okay, then.” I followed Malik out to the waiting limo, hesitating only briefly while he opened the door for me, gesturing to his driver to stay in the car. “Is everything okay?” I asked, already knowing the answer. “No,” he snapped. His lips were pressed into a straight line and he gestured toward the car with a dip of his chin. “Get in the car.” Coiling sensations tightened in my gut when I chose to obey his order. It was clear I wasn’t being given an option, anyway. He followed me into the car and slid onto the bench on the other side. He barely had time to situate himself in his seat, picking up a file folder that was placed next to him, before the car was moving. “I told you that regardless of your decision to marry me, that your protection is still my prerogative.” My stomach tightened further and I nodded once, clasping my hands together in my lap. “You did. Although I’m not sure I understand.” “I had a man following you this week.” My eyes widened. “You what?” I asked, as my pulse began to thrum quicker and harder in my veins. “It appears you’re not keeping good company.” I shook my head. This had to be a joke. Of all the bullshit things for Malik to do. Anger boiled inside me. “You have got to be fucking joking with me right now.” “I never joke when it comes to business.” “And I am not your business,” I snapped, leaning forward. My dress suddenly felt too tight. Too heavy. Malik picked up the folder next to him and flicked it outward. “I’m not talking about you,” he sneered, finally losing a semblance of control. “I’m talking about my business. Your father’s business. Fuck, Gabriella, I’m talking about your family.” “And I’m telling you I don’t understand.” “Read the file.” His hand shook the file, and I watched as pages inside flickered with the sudden movement. “Take the damn file.” I hesitantly reached for it, taking it from him as if it was a snake that might attack at any moment. When it was in my hands, I frowned at Malik. His lips were white and pulled tight. His jaw was clenched shut. His eyes shot daggers out toward me as if I had somehow betrayed him. I set the file in my lap, my stomach dipping and flipping with nerves. I had no clue what he was talking about, I could only assume it had to do with Tyson. I opened the file and I gasped as I learned my instinct was correct. “What is this?” I asked, slowly flipping through pages of photos. Hand-scribbled notes were next to the photographs with names of people when Tyson was talking to someone and places

when he was walking into a building. I looked up at Malik and saw his anger clear in his black eyes. “My father has tried this once before, telling me Tyson was dating me to gain family secrets. Last time, it was all a lie.” “This time it’s not.” I didn’t want to believe him, but I couldn’t help but be curious as to what else was inside. I looked further into the file, reading all the scribbled and typed notes. None of them made sense, and my frown dipped deeper until I got to the third page. My world began spinning and spinning until I felt it begin to crumble. FBI. “No.” I inhaled, unable to exhale. My fingers trailed over the photo of Tyson walking into a tan building with curved windows on the ground level. Just above the main doors were the stamped words, “Federal Bureau of Investigation.” “What does this mean?” I asked, lifting my shocked eyes to Malik. His eyes roamed my face and then dropped to the file in my hands. “It means that the man you’re fucking is working for the FBI.” I jolted at the term fucking. He was so much more than that. Wasn’t he? “He c-can’t be,” I stuttered, unable to look back down at the photos. I didn’t need to. Malik wasted no time taking the file out of my lap and began flipping through notes and photos and God knows what else. “Tyson Blackwell, age twenty-eight. Graduated from Detroit East High in 2005. Attended Central University where he was believed to be an easy first-round draft pick by the Philadelphia Eagles until a knee injury ended his career before it began. Graduated with a degree in criminal justice.” “I know all this,” I whispered. My voice was hoarse from dryness. I could feel the blood drain from my face with every word he spoke. “But what you don’t know—” He stopped and snapped the folder closed. My eyes flickered to Malik’s immediately. My mind was swirling with confusion and anger and…betrayal? His hands clasped together and his elbows dropped to his knees. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost patronizing. “What you don’t know is that after he left college, he immediately joined the FBI. He’s been an agent with them for the last four years.” I shook my head, unable to stop. “No. He wouldn’t.” “The man whose bed you’ve been sharing is currently working on taking down your family.” “Impossible,” I said, but my lip was trembling. “And he’s using you to do it.” My chin trembled as I fought the urge to look away from Malik. This was so similar to ten years ago. Tyson wouldn’t do this to me. I refused to believe it. But this time, I had proof in photos. It was the same…but so different. My father had lied before to get his way, and he could have been doing it now. Although I would have expected him to use a new trick. “What have you told him?” he asked, his voice hardening.

“Nothing. I haven’t said anything.” “You’re sure? You haven’t mentioned a single thing about your father? About me? About anything that your father is involved in?” “I don’t even know anything, Malik! And he already knew,” I said, memories quickly flickering into my mind. “He knew things, but I thought—” “That could probably be debated,” he interrupted, clearly thinking I was an idiot. I had never felt more like that could very well be the case. “I only knew that my father had Tyson’s father killed several years after I was already in Colorado. His dad was in the DPD and investigating my father.” “And did you ever stop and think that he might want vengeance for that?” Malik roared, leaning forward. His voice was so loud, so completely furious, that I jolted back into my seat and wiped tears from my eyes. “Fucking Christ, Gabriella. You’re a goddamned Galecki and you’ve literally been in bed with our fucking enemy! How could you be so damned stupid?” “I’m not!” I shouted, losing the grip I had been maintaining. “I’m not stupid and I’m not an idiot. It’s Tyson. I’ve loved him since I was fifteen years old. He was the first person I saw when I came back to town and I thought…” “What? That it was all coincidence?” His look of disgust slashed right through me and I looked away, down to my lap. Admitting that yes, that’s exactly what I thought, or maybe worse—that it was fate—would make me sound more like a moron. “Fucking hell,” he muttered. “This is shit I don’t need. It’s shit your father definitely doesn’t need right now. Do you know how much he’s going to fucking flip out when I tell him?” “You can’t,” I gasped, snapping my head to his. “He’ll kill him.” “And he’d deserve it.” My jaw dropped in shock. But this was Tyson. He wouldn’t betray me like this. There was no way. Malik and I stared at each other, the fury pulsing off him making it difficult for him to breathe. But even as I looked at his heaving chest, and a vein thumping at his temple, I wasn’t really seeing him. I was remembering Tyson and the things he’d said to me. The things I’d overheard from phone calls. The way the man in his office glared at me earlier this week, and the tidbits of their conversation I had heard. How he’d said he wanted to wait to be inside me until there was nothing between us. How he told someone on the phone that he was working on it. A case, he had told me later. Pieces clicked into place at the very time my heart broke in two. Because I was that case. And he was working. On me. “Holy shit,” I gasped, and my hand flew to my throat. I bit my bottom lip to keep my emotions at bay, but it was futile. “Holy shit, he used me.” I shook my head and remembered

the promise I had made to him. “I need to talk to him.” Malik’s eyes flew wide open. “What?” “I promised him.” My breath came in short pants. “You have to take me to his place, Malik. He made me promise.” “He’s lied to you.” “He made me promise!” I shouted, leaning forward. My skin burned. Everything felt suffocating. “He made me promise to talk to him tonight. Told me to go to him after the benefit. I need to find out why.” “No way in hell are you going there.” He leaned back, face stern. “Please.” My eyes began to sting. “You can wait for me. If what you say is true, it won’t take long, but a decade ago, I allowed my father to send me away when he gave me this same story. I believed it then. This time, I need the truth. I need to look into his eyes.” His lips pulled to one side and after several, heart-wrenching moments, he finally nodded. Without removing his eyes from me, he reached over and pressed a button. “Change of plans. Take us to Latham Hills.” He arched a brow at me and I quickly rattled off Tyson’s address. As soon as I was done, he let go of the button and faced me. I felt small. I felt stupid. If Tyson really had betrayed me, lied to me in this way, I should have been smart enough to suspect something wasn’t right. Looking back, he had certainly left enough clues, I had just been too blind, too naïve and hopeful to see them. — The trip probably took twenty minutes. It felt like hours. Silence filled the car. It seemed as if Malik hadn’t moved an inch while I repeatedly tapped my fingernail to my tooth. By the time we pulled up in front of Tyson’s house, I still had no idea what I was going to say to him. “I will wait for you out here,” Malik said, his face a blank mask. I reached for the file, needing the proof in my hand when I confronted Tyson. With a dip of my chin, I acknowledged Malik’s words. Then I waited until the rear door opened, and I climbed out. Lead filled my feet, making every step feel painful and take longer than it should have. With growing trepidation, I rang the doorbell and took a step back. I had never done that before, but I no longer felt like I could just walk in, even though I knew Tyson was expecting me. He’d told me to come to him after. Made me promise. I was beginning to understand why, and I hated the unease swirling inside me that thickened with every breath. “Hey,” he said, his eyes wide as he opened the door. His shock quickly evaporated as he

noticed the limo on the street behind me. “What’s going on?” He pulled his shoulders back and narrowed his eyes. I stood there, speechless, wavering in my certainty that I could believe Malik despite the proof in my hands. This was Tyson. He wouldn’t betray me. Not like this. Would he? I shook my head when he asked, “Blue? What’s going on?” “Um.” I licked my lips and held out a file. “You told me to come to you.” “What’s this?” he asked, looking down at the file in my hands. Then his head snapped up and he glared over my shoulder. “I think we need to talk. Come inside.” I shook my head and the backs of my eyes began burning. “Did you lie to me?” I asked, tripping over the simple words. My knees trembled when Tyson’s lips twisted and he heaved a deep breath. “Blue…come inside. Please.” His eyes focused on me, his voice softened. I wanted to fall into the arms that were now hanging loose at his sides. I shook my head and then held out the file. “Tell me, Tyson. Because ten years ago, I believed crap when I apparently shouldn’t have, but now I’m asking you to tell me the truth.” “It’s not what you think,” he said immediately and snatched the file from my hand. He didn’t open it though, just stayed focused on me. His chest moved quicker than normal as he breathed, but his posture stayed relaxed. I couldn’t fathom how he could look at me like that, like there was nothing wrong, placating me with his softened voice when I felt wound so tight I could snap. “You’re not with the FBI?” I tilted my head to the side and saw him flinch. “You’re not trying to get revenge for your dad’s death?” Another flinch. The tears burning the backs of my eyes moved to the front and he became blurry in front of me. Tyson’s lips pursed and he reached for me, but I jerked my shoulder back. “Come inside and talk to me. I told you I needed to talk to you tonight. There are things you don’t understand.” I shook my head. “You haven’t answered my questions. Any of them.” Ever…I realized. He was so quick to change the subject, barely giving me any of the information I sought about what he’d done after college. “God. You didn’t even go to law school, did you? All this time…” Unable to finish, I let my voice trail off. “Was any of it true?” He took a step out of his house until he was on the front porch with me. Behind me, I heard the sound of a door opening and slamming shut. Tyson’s gaze snapped to look over my shoulder but I refused to take my eyes off him. “Did you use me to get close to my family?” He blinked and looked back at me. A muscle moved by his nose. I got nothing but silence. Anger began rolling through me, pouring out of me before I could stop myself. “Did you use me, Tyson?” I shouted, leaning in. “That was what I came here for, yes,” he whispered. “But—”

“Fuck you,” I hissed. Tears rolled down my cheeks. “You don’t understand the full story.” I stepped back, swiping tears off my cheeks, and watched him step closer to me. I shook my head and held out my hand. “Don’t come closer.” “I’ll give you tonight,” he said, “because I know you’re upset, but you have to know, Blue… you have to know that what we have between us is real. You know the man I am, and that man wouldn’t do what you’re assuming right now. Give me a chance to explain it to you when you’ve calmed down.” I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t, as much as I wanted to. “The man I thought you were turned out to be a liar who has tricked me for the last month,” I stated, taking another step back. From my purse, my phone began to ring. I ignored it. “That’s not who I am and you know it. You’ll know it when you search deep.” My phone continued ringing. More tears fell down my cheeks and I shook my head again. “I don’t know anything. Not anymore. Not when it comes to you.” “I love you,” he said and walked to me until his hands curved around my shoulders. He stared me straight in the eyes and repeated, “I love you, Gabriella Bluejay Galecki. Do not leave here tonight without knowing that…without hearing this.” “You don’t,” I croaked and shook him off. My phone rang again. This time, Tyson looked at my purse. “You better answer that.” “Goodbye, Tyson.” I turned to walk away, but when I did, Tyson reached for me and pulled me back to him so my back was close to his chest, his mouth at my ear. In front of me, Malik was walking up the lawn. His hand was on his phone, holding it to his ear, and he was glaring at Tyson. Tyson whispered in my ear. “We need to talk, though, and soon. That case I told you I was wrapping up this week? Think about that, Blue. There are things I need to tell you about. Things I need to warn you—” “We need to go,” Malik stated, cutting off Tyson. My phone beeped in my purse. Ice slithered into my veins. “No.” I shook my head rapidly and stepped away from both of the men who were staring at me. Malik nodded and Tyson cursed. “That was your father,” Malik stated. “It’s your mom. We need to go.” “Fuck,” Tyson cursed again and stepped toward me. “Blue.” My name rolling off his lips sounded tortured. I held my hand up and glared at him. “I can’t do this. Not tonight. Not now.”

Not ever again. Malik held out his hand for me to take, but I brushed him away too. If someone touched me, I’d crumble. I turned away from both men and walked toward the limo, but paused when Tyson called my name again. I looked at him over my shoulder and saw his expression twisted into pain and regret. It was clear. It was also too late. “I do love you, Blue.” I’d wanted to hear those words for so long, and now, it was too late for those, too. I said nothing but turned around and climbed into the waiting car, sliding to the far end and kicking off my heels. Then I pulled my feet up onto the bench, dropped my head to my knees, and sobbed.

Chapter 19 “Where is she?” I shouted as soon as I ran into my family’s house, still shoeless. Desperation clawed at my throat, making me feel wild and feral. My vision blurred as Clarissa shuffled out of the kitchen and headed straight toward me with her arms open. “Bella,” she whispered, tears already falling down her cheeks. “No.” I shook my head and took several steps away from her. “She’s not—” The word “gone” clogged in my throat, unable to escape. I knew it had been coming. I knew it was here. I still didn’t want to accept it. I continued walking away from Clarissa. Her hands fell to her sides as I backed into the wall. It jarred my spine and I sank to my knees. My head fell into my hands as more sobs escaped my throat, making my shoulders shake. “She can’t be.” “I’m so sorry,” Clarissa whispered. Her gentle voice felt like needle pricks along my arm, and I flinched away from her touch. “She went in her sleep.” As if that was any consolation. Tears soaked into my dress as I curled into myself. I couldn’t stop the tears from falling even as I heard the door open and Clarissa moved away from me. Malik crouched next to me and pulled me into his arms. “I’m sorry, Gabriella,” he said. “This is not what I wanted for you tonight.” For the first time since he threw the file folder at me in the car, he didn’t sound angry. I sank into his arms, unaware I was doing it until his hand slid down my back. Then he was moving, up and on his feet, carrying me along with him. “I need to see her,” I mumbled into his chest. I didn’t want to. God, I didn’t want to see her now. “The car is on its way for her.” My hands curled into Malik’s suit coat as he headed up the stairs. I held on tighter as he turned the corner at the top of the stairs and walked directly into my parents’ bedroom. “Thank you for bringing her home,” my father said. His voice sounded thick with emotion, perhaps the first time I’d heard it that way. “She’s not handling this well,” Malik replied, guiding me to a lush chair in the corner of their room. “We also had a run-in with Agent Blackwell.” I flinched in his arms and heard my father curse. Then Malik set me in the chair and crouched down, moving his hands to my own, which were still gripping his coat. He peeled away my fingers and set them in my lap. With gentleness I hadn’t expected from him, his thumb pressed against my chin and he tilted my head up to look him in the eyes. “I am sorry for your loss,” he whispered. “You have had a lot thrown at you in a short time. Will you be okay?”

I stared at him blankly, unable to answer. “We can call a doctor,” he continued, “get you something to help you sleep.” I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to rewind the last hour, changing it. I just lost Tyson and my mom in a matter of moments. I didn’t reply. I turned from Malik, jerked out of his light touch and closed my eyes. The back of his knuckles brushed across my temple. “I’ll let you say your goodbyes.” In my peripheral vision, I saw him stand up and move toward the doorway. As he reached it, he clasped my father’s hand and leaned in. After exchanging murmured words I couldn’t hear, both men embraced in that handshake-back-clap way men did. Then Malik pulled away and glanced at me. “I apologize for my part in this tonight, Gabriella, but you needed to know.” I nodded numbly. Everyone thought I needed to know things, and yet no one told me when it would matter. Tyson’s last warning about his case that was ending soon flashed through my mind but I pushed it down. Now wasn’t the time to worry about it. I looked away from Malik as he left the room, and I turned to see my mother’s body lying prone on her bed. Just where I had held her days ago. More pain pierced my chest as I saw her, really saw her. So still. So pale. I scrambled to my feet and climbed onto the bed. “Mom,” I sobbed through a raw voice as soon as I was next to her. My hand slid down her shoulder and I shifted so I was lying on my side. Her eyes were closed and her skin was already cool to the touch, making me cry even harder. Not caring and not even thinking about my father, and what he thought of me in that moment, I wrapped my arm around her cool stomach and pressed my cheek to her shoulder. There, I closed my eyes and held my mom for what I now knew, would be the very last time. And I sobbed against her throat, my entire body shaking and trembling with tears and sadness and a pain that had lanced itself so deep I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to dig it out. I stayed like that until my father’s warm hands curved around my shoulder, turned me away from my mom, and he whispered, “It’s time to let her go.” — It was well after midnight when I sat in the formal living room at my parents’ house. Clarissa had been busy, waiting on everyone in the house who still remained. My mother was long gone, carried out of the house on a stretcher with a sheet fully covering her. I lost it again, sinking to my knees and was once again picked up by Malik and carried to where I was now. I had no idea if he was still in the house, and I didn’t care. “More coffee?” Clarissa asked, holding a stainless steel carafe in front of me. I held out my cup and allowed her to fill it. I didn’t remember even drinking the first cup she gave me.

“You must eat,” she whispered, and my eyes flickered to hers. When I met her gaze, I could only see unadulterated pain so I looked away. I’d been staring at an empty fireplace for who knows how long with absolutely no thought in my head. The entire mood in the house was just as somber, just as mournful. Clarissa sighed and walked away. She returned quickly with my clutch in my bag and held it out for me. “Malik brought this in for you before he left,” she said. “Your phone has been buzzing for the past twenty minutes.” I glanced at my clutch and nodded. When I made no move to take it from her hand, she set it in my lap. This time as she walked away, I turned to her. “Clarissa?” I asked, and she looked back at me over her shoulder. “I didn’t think it would hurt this much.” “We never do, bella.” Her lips tilted down at the edges and I saw her chin quiver with emotion. “I made your bed in your old room for you if you want to stay the night.” I didn’t. I wanted to flee from this house and forget all the misery it had brought me. I also didn’t want to be alone. And now, the one person who could have helped was also part of my pain. My phone buzzed again, vibrating against my thigh. I took it out and saw Blackbird on the screen. I stared at his picture, one I’d taken of us when we had gone for a walk around his neighborhood. His cheek was pressed to my temple, and we were both grinning as I snapped the selfie. My phone stopped ringing and the photo disappeared. Then my thumb slid to the button on the top. I powered down my phone and threw it back into my purse. — “Are we done yet? I’m exhausted and I’ve told you everything I know.” My father and Malik had been questioning me for the last two hours. They wanted to know what Tyson and I discussed during every conversation, what we did when we saw each other. My father’s cheeks turned dark purple when I looked at him with wide eyes and asked him if he really wanted details of his daughter’s sex life. As if his blatant disappointment and fury weren’t apparent enough before. Malik quickly stepped in, wanting to know where we went, who else we spoke to. I had no information to give them, insisting that we didn’t talk about them—other than the night when I agreed to attend the benefit with Malik. I repeated what I had told Tyson about Malik taking over my father’s business, but I couldn’t recall anything else I’d said. Although that admission alone seemed to be damaging enough. Both of them sucked in a harsh breath and then cursed up a storm. I answered everything they asked me, not feeling any of it. Then I tried not to think of what would happen if they got their hands on Tyson. I woke up this morning electing not to give a thought to Tyson Blackwell beyond anything that was absolutely necessary, like this conversation. My father slowly perused me, and I could practically feel his distaste for me from across the room. He sneered and sat down at the chair at his desk. “Go. And try to not bring any

further humiliation to your family in the next hour.” “I didn’t mean to,” I mumbled. My hands balled into fists and I jumped at a loud noise. My head snapped up and I saw my father’s fist on top of his desk. “Ten years ago I sent you away due to your sick fascination with a family who wanted nothing else than to bring this family—your family—down. How you can be so naïve and stupid to think that Blackwell wouldn’t join his father’s crusade is beyond me.” “He told me he was a lawyer!” I all but shouted the words, though they were useless. We’d been over this ad nauseam. “And this is why we look into people.” “Fine.” I waved my hand in his direction and turned around. I caught Malik’s gaze before he looked away from me. Even to him, I was now worthless. “I get it. I’ll meet you in the entryway later so we can go to the funeral home.” We were supposed to be leaving in an hour and I was desperate to escape his office. The mention of my mother and our agenda for the day ahead fell like a lead weight in the room. “Very well,” my father said as I walked away. But it was the first time I heard emotion in his voice that wasn’t disgust or anger. I was just barely around the corner from his office before tears fell on my face. “Gabriella,” Malik called as I reached the bottom of the stairs. He walked toward me once I paused. Then he slid his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. He casually leaned against the banister. “Your father and I have been working for two years on my slow takeover of his organization. We’ve done everything possible to keep this quiet from his enemies and anyone who can’t be fully trusted. The fact that you’ve now spilled his greatest secret to the FBI is detrimental in ways you can’t begin to comprehend.” “I get it.” I brushed tears off my cheeks and looked away. “But I’ve already apologized and it wasn’t done maliciously.” Sadness flashed in his eyes when he said, “It is bad enough for a man to lose his wife, but this is simply something he doesn’t need to be dealing with right now. Perhaps in time, he’ll grow to be less angry with you, but for now, you need to understand he’s just lost the only person he’s ever cared about.” I flinched and looked away. “I get that, Malik, I do. But you realize that you’ve just said my father has only loved one person…and this whole time he’s had a daughter who’s wanted nothing but that from him. I might not understand the pain of losing a spouse, but I do understand the pain of losing a love you so desperately want.” I walked away, leaving him with more sadness in his eyes, but with my point also made. When I reached the top of the stairs, I looked down to the main floor and a small ache gripped my chest. Malik was still standing there, his eyes on me, but his gaze and thoughts were clearly far away. With a small nod of his head, he pushed off the railing and walked away, leaving me feeling as small as a mouse. When I was done in the bedroom, my limbs weighted with grief, I went to the entryway simply dressed in jeans and a black short-sleeved shirt. I had no idea how my father managed to get all my clothes from the hotel, but when I woke up in my childhood room that morning, everything was hanging nice and neat in my closet. I hadn’t even heard anyone enter my

room, much less spend the time organizing three suitcases full of clothes and bath accessories. I fished through my purse, searching for my phone. Ignoring the several missed calls and text messages from Tyson, I quickly slid through my contacts and pressed “call” when I found Eleanor’s name. Tears were already falling down my cheeks, my voice barely audible, when she answered. “Gabriella?” she asked when I didn’t answer the first time she said my name. A choked sob ripped from my throat and I gripped the phone tighter. “Eleanor,” I said, my grief and sadness apparent. She gasped, and I closed my eyes, practically able to see the wretched expression on her face. “Oh no.” Several moments passed while I listened to her cry. “When?” “Last night.” My eyes snapped up and I saw my father come into the entryway. Claude hurried past my father and opened the front door. I followed reluctantly as Eleanor said, “I’ll be there by tonight. Just let me pack and get a flight.” “I need you,” I whispered, feeling selfish for admitting it to her. Her kind voice replied, “And I’ll be there for you. By tonight.” I nodded at her promise and ended the phone call, slipping my phone back into my purse. “Aunt Eleanor,” I muttered to my father once we were seated in the back of his town car. “I didn’t know if anyone had called her yet, but she’s on her way.” His gaze stayed fixed on the window, unwilling to spare me a glance. “Thank you for calling her,” he finally said. We spent the rest of the short drive to the funeral home in silence, lost in our own thoughts, our own memories of a woman who loved hugely but quietly. For the next several hours, my father and I sat next to each other at the funeral home, going through all of my mother’s final wishes to make sure everything for her viewing and funeral would be done according to her specifics. The fact that my mom had even planned her own funeral made me dig my nails into the palms of my hands so I wouldn’t lose it. My father was stone cold the entire time, a block of ice issuing demands and not taking no for an answer. By the time we returned to the house, I barely mustered up the energy to walk up the stairs and collapse onto my bed. Just as my eyes closed, the heaviness of the day pulling me toward sleep, my phone began buzzing in my purse. Half asleep, I dug it out of my purse and cried when I saw a text message from Tyson along with several more missed calls. Blackbird: We need to talk. My fingers flew across the keypad. Me: Never again. Blackbird: Let me explain.

Me: Are you in the FBI? Blackbird: Yes. I need to see you. I laughed out loud and shook my head. Me: I will never see you again. Blackbird: There are things you need to know. Trust me, Blue. I’m looking out for you here. That was rich. I stared at the text message. As if I could trust him again. Me: Go to hell. Before he could reply, I turned off my ringer and dropped my phone back into my purse. And as I finally fell asleep, I did so with more tears wetting the pillow beneath my cheek.

Chapter 20 I curled my feet beneath me and draped a blanket over my lap. On the other side of the couch, Eleanor pressed her lips together and blew a breath across the top of her mug, cooling her tea. She’d been here for two days, making good on her promise to be in Detroit the night after I called her. But since her arrival, we had been busy with not only the visitation and funeral preparations, but the actual services themselves. In addition, there had been a steady stream of my father’s men coming in and out of the house. He was meeting with various members of his organization and palpable tension seemed to hover in the air. I didn’t think it was solely due to losing my mother. The reception at our house after the funeral had lasted hours due to the fact that everyone who was anyone wanted to show their support for my father, and, what felt like an afterthought, me. I had moved to Eleanor’s side, clutching her hand while the forever-long line of people offered their condolences. I figured about half of them were genuine. The ones who I knew were genuine were my, apparently, brand new friends from Fireside Grill. When I saw Paige walk toward me with her husband, I had begun shaking. When Suzanne followed with her husband, and then Chelsea and Camden, Eleanor had to wrap her arm around my waist to keep me from collapsing. They had swallowed me in hugs and warm kisses, whispering how sorry they were for my loss. Suzanne told me she and her husband had gone to Fireside for lunch, and when Declan was surprised to see her there, telling her my mom had passed and about the funeral and reception afterward, they had all rushed to my house. I had never had friends as amazing as these women, and I promised I would call them as soon as everything settled down after. At least the burial service earlier in the day had been a private affair with only me, my father, Eleanor, Clarissa, and Claude, along with my father’s most trusted men, in attendance. Malik had been absent, which I spent no further time thinking about after noticing. Now Eleanor and I had chucked our funeral wear and were lounging in the living room in sweats, with Clarissa hovering nearby to ensure we ate. “We haven’t had much time to speak,” Eleanor said and took another sip of her tea. I clung to my coffee and pressed my lips together. “There hasn’t been much else to say.” I had already told her all about Tyson. Even to her it seemed like déjà vu. She had let me cry on her shoulder, both of us crying over my mom’s death, which we expected, and me also crying over Tyson’s betrayal, which I hadn’t expected at all. “What are you going to do now?” I shrugged. “Don’t know. I have the week off work and I was supposed to move into my

apartment last weekend but I postponed that.” Unfortunately I wasn’t able to postpone all of the furniture deliveries, so my non-lived-in apartment was filled with furniture. I was debating about what to do with the furniture and the place. How could I live in Latham Hills now? “Maybe I should stay here for a while,” I told Eleanor and watched the expression on her face. To her credit, it stayed perfectly blank. “I feel bad leaving him now,” I said, in reference to my father. Although why I should was a mystery even to me. But the fact was, he and Eleanor were the only family I had, and she was leaving tomorrow. A part of me wanted to jump on the plane with her and go back to Colorado, where everything was simpler. My heart surely never felt like it was being pounced on and pecked into a thousand jagged pieces when I was living among goats and chickens. “Have you spoken to him yet?” she asked, her voice soft. She didn’t have to say his name. I already knew. She already knew that he wasn’t far from my mind. Sometimes when I cried myself to sleep at night, I imagined Tyson’s arm around me, comforting me and holding me close. Other times, all I could hear were his whispered promises and lies that dripped from his lips. “We have nothing to say to each other.” She arched a brow. “I think you should see him. At least to give you closure this time.” I shook my head. “I don’t think that would go over well with my father or Malik.” I knew it wouldn’t. On the few occasions I’d left the house since Malik told my father who I had been seeing, who I had given family secrets to, a black car followed closely behind me. I now had a shadow twenty-four seven. I couldn’t even summon any emotion to care that a man trailed my every move. “Perhaps.” She took another sip and leaned forward, setting her mug on the coffee table. “But it’s also not Malik or Jimmy who I’m concerned about.” I shrugged and matched her smile. “I’ll be fine. At least in a while. I’ll start over like I just did and move on.” “Moving on isn’t the same as living.” No. It wasn’t. I opened my mouth to tell her that when Malik appeared in the doorway to the living room. His gaze locked on mine immediately and he barely spared Eleanor a nod of acknowledgment. “Your father wishes to see you. It’s important.” Tossing the blanket off my legs, I unfurled from the couch and tossed Eleanor a look. “I’ll be back.” She snorted into her teacup. Being around my father for two days, listening to his constant demands and seeing his bossy ways, hadn’t endeared the two to each other anymore than previously. “What’s this about?” I asked Malik as we walked through the kitchen.

“Due to everything going on, we’ve spent the last several days scrambling to fix the damage your mistake has done to your father’s organization.” I bristled at the statement. “You know, had I known your takeover was so secret, I wouldn’t have said anything.” “It doesn’t change the fact you’ve put us at risk.” I opened my mouth to speak, knowing his patience with me was hanging on by a very small thread, when someone pounded at the front door, vibrating the heavy wood against the frame. “Fuck,” Malik cursed and grabbed my hand. “Whatever you do…do not answer that door.” My eyes widened as he hustled down the hallway. “What’s going on?” I called out, hissing so as not to yell. He pierced me with a glare before turning the corner. “Don’t answer that door.” Claude and Clarissa, along with Eleanor, who I figured had heard the noise, rushed into the hallway and met me in the entryway. “FBI. Open the door.” Another round of pounding vibrated the door and all four of us stared at one another, our gazes flickering between each other and the door we were only a few feet from. My heart sunk to my toes. FBI. Tyson. I swayed on my feet. “Holy crap,” I said as a firm hand clasped down on my forearm. “Steady there, Ella,” Eleanor whispered into my ear. Her hand left my arm and wrapped around my back. “Perhaps we should go back to the living room.” My head snapped to her. “Like hell.” The doorbell rang wildly and made all of us jump. Firm footsteps echoed off the tiled floor and all of us looked toward the noise. My father walked toward us, glaring at me while he did so, ignoring everyone else. “You have done this to your family,” he stated simply as he walked passed me. I looked back down the hallway. “Where’s Malik?” He looked at me over his shoulder. “Gone.” Then he turned toward the door and opened it with little fanfare and little regard to the fact that men had begun pounding on it again. “You rang?” he asked, his lips curling into a sneer at the men in the doorway. My hand flew to my chest and my mouth gaped open. A handful of men stood on the other side, three dressed in black pants and black shirts with FBI printed in bright yellow, block letters. Others were in DPD uniforms. In front of them all was Tyson, wearing a black suit, black dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. No tie. It was amazing the details you remembered when you felt your life coming to a screeching halt.

Because as Tyson raised a sheet of paper and held it out toward my father, stating the words, “Mr. Galecki, this is a warrant for your arrest…” and continued talking…I saw everything. His black hair. His hard jaw. His blue eyes that hadn’t once looked in my direction. It didn’t matter. I already knew I would never see those eyes again. Before Tyson was done speaking to my father, who hadn’t bothered looking at the paper in his hands, the three other FBI agents pushed their way into the house and spread out. Behind them, even more men entered, ushering those of us gawking at the scene in front of us into the kitchen, telling us to stay where we were until they told us otherwise. Eleanor’s hand wrapped around mine as she tugged me toward the counter but my feet refused to move. I watched in horror as Tyson spun my father around, instructing him to put his hands on the wall. Blood drained from my face as Tyson then slapped a pair of handcuffs on my father’s wrists, pulling them none too gently into position. I followed them, not caring if any of the other men searching my house for who-knows-what tried to stop me. I ran after them as Tyson led him into an unmarked black car. Jesus. This was straight out of a movie, except the reel in front of me wasn’t fiction. This was my life. My nightmare. Once the door slammed shut on my father, I finally found my voice. “Tyson!” I shouted, and rushed down the steps. He twisted toward me and braced himself as if he expected me to rush into him. “Blue,” he said, and my feet stopped. I froze, a few feet from him, seething, scared, and so mad at him, but more so, myself. “I trusted you,” I hissed, leaning forward. He raised a hand as if to silence me, but I continued, wiping away tears that were already falling. I was frantic and crazed and I couldn’t control it. “And I loved you.” The slightest flinch, the slightest tightening of his jaw, was the only sign he had heard me. “And I was just a game to you. A fucking case.” “You weren’t,” he whispered harshly. “But I had a job to do, too.” Anger boiled my blood. Or I was going insane. That was the only explanation for why my hand suddenly raised and my palm hit him directly on the cheek. Pain vibrated along my palm and up my arm, straight to my heart. Tyson’s head snapped to his left. He rubbed the area I had just slapped and looked back at me. “I know you think I deserve that,” he started, but I interrupted him. “Think? You just arrested my dad. On the same day we buried my mom!” He nodded once. “I’ll allow the hit, Blue, but there are things going on that you don’t know or understand. Things I’ve tried to tell you, and I held off the team as long as I could.” “Well,” I leaned back and sneered. “How noble of you.”

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply just as men began trailing out of my house. Their hands were filled with files and paperwork from my father’s office. Two men were carrying boxes filled to the brim with what I assumed were other files. Fury continued rolling off me. “I hate you.” My teeth ground together as I stared at him. “I loved you, and you betrayed me. I never want to see you again.” I spun on my heels, rushing back toward the house, only stopping briefly when I heard Tyson shout from the driveway, “We are not done!” “We sure as hell are,” I spit, and entered the house, slamming the door behind me. Fuck him. Eleanor met me at the doorway to the kitchen, her arms open wide, and a pained expression on her face. I imagined it mirrored mine. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered as I collapsed into her hold. Her hand brushed down my hair in a futile attempt to soothe me. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Chapter 21 THREE MONTHS LATER When you feel like you’ve lost everything, it’s a miracle that life still goes on. Twenty-four hours after the FBI infiltrated my childhood home and arrested my father, Malik Rilotti was arrested at his home, the Palace. Three days later, Claude, Clarissa, and I were essentially evicted from the house when the FBI and other government officials froze all of my father’s assets, including his property. Eleanor had stayed as long as she could but it was only a few days after that when I finally sent her home. At the same time, my father had an initial hearing followed by a detention hearing where a judge declared he would be detained in Wayne County Jail until his trial. Since I’d lost my home, I ended up moving into the apartment in Latham Hills, after agreeing to a month-to-month lease stipulation. I planned on moving out soon, but since my furniture had all been delivered by that point, it didn’t make sense to immediately pack it up and store it until I found another place. I was now looking for a new place south of Detroit. Or west. I didn’t plan on staying in Latham Hills and I had at least been fortunate to not run into Tyson again. Two weeks ago at my father’s preliminary hearing, I learned of all of the charges against my father. Racketeering and money laundering along with obstruction of justice. Drug trafficking—and not just marijuana and cocaine, but heroin and crack. An entire warehouse was seized. Thousands of pounds of drugs intended for distribution would ensure my father and Malik wouldn’t see a life outside bars for a long time. But that wasn’t even the worst of it. Sex trafficking charges were filed against both of them and five other men connected to the Galecki family. Those women whose disappearances had made Tyson tense during our breakfast months ago? They had presumably been taken under orders from Malik…that surely came from my father. My eyes widened each time a new charge was read until I couldn’t stand the sight of my own father. My gut churned at the mention of the last one. I had always known my father did despicable things. I had assumed drugs and murder would have been included in his charges. But to hear he’d been a part of sex trafficking? I had to choke down my vomit. When that final charge was brought up in the courtroom, Tyson glanced at me with one eyebrow arched. I looked away and I haven’t seen him since. I had sat on a wooden bench, watching as piece after piece of evidence piled up against the man who fathered me and the man who had wanted to marry me. My disgust grew with every witness who spoke.

When I later learned a grand jury had formally indicted him, I wasn’t surprised. My father was more of a monster than I could have ever suspected. My life had become a flurry of courtroom visits and meetings with attorneys, but after that day, I’d decided I was done with all of it. My father had never once stood by my side, and I would no longer pretend to stand by his. Despite the paparazzi and media that followed my every move, Simone allowed me to return to work after things calmed down post-indictment. I could have kissed her. I might have and just didn’t remember. I was certain that the media fallout would turn her away from me, but so far, she’d been loyal to me and had even brought me on full-time with pay that was more generous than I could have asked for. Now, I spent my days going to work, busting my ass to continue to keep DPA the top event planner in the city. At night, I returned to my beautiful apartment, only to open a bottle of wine and spend the few remaining hours alone. With the exception of Thursday night—girls’ night out. Chelsea, Suzanne, Paige, and Camden had also stood by me, proving that people could be truly genuine. They didn’t pry—often. They had even avoided going to the Fireside Grill because they knew I didn’t want to see Declan or risk running into Tyson. That was, until this particular night. They insisted I went with them. Based on the string of texts I had received all day long from all four of them, the last one being from Chelsea insisting they would force me there, hog-tied and handcuffed if they had to, I wasn’t getting out of it. One Galecki in handcuffs in my lifetime was plenty, thankyouverymuch. Me: I’m beginning to think you’re not really friends. Just terrorists in skirts. Chelsea: As long as you’re there. I sighed and quickly typed out my response that I would meet them at Fireside at seven. I had to get used to the idea of possibly seeing Tyson anyway, and, after three months, the girls were right. It was time to stop wallowing and hiding. It had been three months without a word from him. There was a chance he’d not only moved on by then, but moved away, too. If he was only brought back to Detroit to take down my family, then he had clearly succeeded and he could go back to his real home. I’d had one visit with my father in jail where he simply told me that while he’d been brought low, there were enough people in his organization remaining who would ensure that what he had created in Detroit would continue. My lip curled in disgust and I walked away. I didn’t plan on ever seeing him again. Brushing the thought of him out of my mind, I dropped my phone into my purse and began shutting down my computer.

“Simone,” I called out as I hitched my purse over my shoulder and rounded the corner of my desk. “I’m outta here.” “Come here a second,” she replied from deep in her office. I found her sitting on the floor by her couch, her lap buried in lookbooks of different floral arrangements. When she saw me, she blew a stray strand of blond hair out of her eyes. “You’ve done it,” she said, and my spine stiffened. My eyebrows knitted together and I leaned against her doorway. “Done what?” Her grin stretched wide. “You’ve landed the governor’s daughter’s wedding account.” My eyes bugged out of my head and I walked into her office. “Are you serious?” I had feared that when I stayed on with Simone full-time that the messiness surrounding the downfall of the Galecki name would cause blowback for her agency. Apparently, people truly cared enough about my mom to be able to look past it. “Yup.” She nodded, set a half dozen thick binders on the floor, and pushed to her feet. “Melinda called me just a few hours ago. Said she got engaged last week and wants you to plan her wedding.” “You,” I clarified. She shook her head. “Nope. Melinda has been so impressed with you that she insists she doesn’t want anyone else handling her wedding except Gabriella Blue.” My lips twitched with a smile at the name. I had legally dropped Galecki from my name, just days after the last visit to my father. Then I mailed him the paperwork to show him I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him again. I almost chose my mother’s maiden name as my new last name, but decided against it. “Wow.” I was stunned the governor’s daughter would ask this of Simone. I still wasn’t even a planner…just an assistant. “Have you set up an appointment with her or anything?” I asked, my gears already turning. “I have. It’s next week, but before you do that, there are a few other things I need you to handle tomorrow.” She headed toward her desk and I followed, sidestepping binders and fabric swatches all over her floor. She was an incredible event planner, but she was also a slob. I’d gotten used to it. “What’s this?” I asked when she handed me a business card and then an envelope with my name printed on it. “That is the number for the hiring agency that will need to find me a new assistant,” she said, and my jaw dropped. “And the envelope has your new salary and benefits package for your new position.” I frowned and looked at her. “I don’t understand.” “You can’t plan the governor’s daughter’s wedding and be an assistant. You’re now an Associate Event Planner.” Tingles slid up my arms and then down my spine as my eyes widened further. “Are you serious?” “I am.” She nodded once and walked toward me, her hand wrapping around my arm when

she got close. Then she smiled, her light green eyes shining with amusement. “Congratulations on your promotion. Now go home and celebrate.” “I can’t believe you’re doing this.” “You’ve done an incredible job and you’ve earned it.” Her confidence made me smile. “Thank you. For everything, Simone.” “I told you the day you walked in here that you got the job because of your dad, but you’d have to work hard to keep it. You’ve exceeded my every expectation and impressed me with the dignity with which you’ve carried yourself for the last few months. You may have been born a Galecki, Gabriella, but you are also wholly and uniquely you. And I’m honored to be not only your boss, but also your friend.” I blinked rapidly, the sudden onslaught of emotion catching me by surprise. She laughed and tugged me toward the door of the office. “Now get out of here and go celebrate. But not too much, I can’t have my new associate planner showing up for her first day of work with a hangover.” I allowed her to lead me out of her office, my smile growing with every step as my shock decreased. And suddenly, a few of the best margaritas in the Detroit area didn’t sound like such a bad thing. It sounded wonderful. Because along with my new name, I was gaining a new life—with great friends and a wonderful career. If only the black hole in my heart caused by losing Tyson would disappear, I’d have everything I had always wanted. — “Drink.” Suzanne pointed to my refilled glass and glared. I pressed it to my lips and sipped. Then I flashed her a cocky grin. “Happy now?” “I will be when you’re drunk.” Around us, the girls laughed while Camden and Chelsea raised their margarita glasses in the air. We’d been celebrating my new position for the last hour. I was on my second margarita and my stomach was stuffed full of nacho chips and queso dip. I was still waiting on my buffalo cheeseburger that I had ordered a little while ago. I should have been having a blast. I was. My cheeks hurt from laughing so much. Yet with every sip of a drink, with every laugh, with every glance over my shoulder, I felt nervous. Unsettled. At any moment, Tyson could walk through those doors. That one of his college teammates owned the place made it seem so much more likely than it did at any other restaurant in the area. With my back to the bar, I was facing the doors that led to the kitchen. Every time a server

moved in and out of the doors, my breath lodged in my throat as I wondered if Tyson would appear in the doorway like he did the first time we came here. Conversation around me drifted off. I vaguely heard Chelsea talking about how she had spent much of her summer on vacation. She also spent time landscaping her backyard, which I’d heard was absolutely beautiful. She said after her husband had left her, she made it her mission to make the yard her private oasis. It sounded like she spent hours outside working, planting, and weeding every day. I couldn’t wait to see it someday. Camden talked about her job at an accounting firm, while Paige and Suzanne lovingly complained about their husbands and their habit of leaving dirty towels all over the floor and their inability to find anything in the refrigerator. Their voices drifted around me while the pain that’d been in my chest for the last three months began to grow and pulse with an emptiness I hadn’t yet experienced. Suzanne and Paige, as much as they bitched about their men, were completely in love and had the one thing I’d always wanted. It wasn’t the first time I had wondered if I should have heard Tyson out during all the weeks he called and texted me. My father and Malik had done despicable things and they deserved to be punished for them. I hated them both equally. But I still felt used, knowing Tyson lied to me. And while I understood it was his job and he had to, it didn’t change the fact that it hurt. Deeply. The kitchen door opened and my back straightened when I saw Declan enter the dining area. I watched every step he took, with a tray in his hand and his eyes on me, until he was unloading all the dishes from his tray and onto our table. “Oohh…personal delivery,” Suzanne sang, wiggling her eyebrows. “I could get used to being served like this.” “Then train your husband,” Declan drawled as he slid my burger in front of me. I snickered at Suzanne but froze when Declan placed his hand on my shoulder. I twisted my neck and looked up at him. Sympathy softened his typically hard features. “I’m sorry to hear about your mom. You doing okay?” “As good as can be expected,” I answered, truthfully. “You’ve had a shitty few months, wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t okay.” Then he leaned closer, placing his lips near my ear. “Want you to know my boy feels like utter shit. But what he did, he had to do. Doesn’t mean he enjoyed a single second of it, though, from what I’ve heard. It’d be worth it to give him a few minutes of your time.” I blinked rapidly and looked down at my lap. In my peripheral vision, I saw that all other conversation had stopped, and I had four sets of eyes locked on Declan and me as he continued speaking into my ear. “Whatever he felt for you, whatever he feels for you, that wasn’t his job making him do that shit. Just want you to know.” “It’s not that simple,” I said, my voice thickening with emotion. Shaking my head, I turned to meet Declan’s gaze. “You don’t understand.” “I understand wanting something so badly and watching it slip through your fingers. I also

understand giving someone a second chance, or at least giving them the time to explain so you can walk away knowing you did everything you could.” I blinked at him, speechless. He squeezed my shoulder and, with those parting words, he nodded to the other silent women at the table, and then walked away. “Personally,” Paige said, her voice just above a whisper, “I think the man has a point.” One thing I’d learned about Paige in the last few months was that she was the quintessential girly-girl and truly believed fairy tales and happily ever afters happened, and happened frequently. My lips pressed together as everyone watched for my reaction. I didn’t give them one. Instead, I picked up my burger and dug into it like it was my job. The longer I avoided this conversation the better. Thankfully, my new friends understood my strong desire to avoid Declan’s point and moved on to listening to Paige. She was talking about school starting next month where she was a kindergarten teacher at the elementary school. I shuddered at the subject, all those slimy noses in one room, and I only barely paid attention. I was still thinking about Tyson, and what Declan said. A part of me was happy to learn Tyson felt like a shit. A bigger part of me, one I knew would be impossible to ignore forever… Just really missed him. — I was sufficiently inebriated a couple hours later when we began saying our goodbyes. It was late, just after eleven, and Chelsea and I were outside waiting for a taxi to show up. Out of all the women, Chelsea was the one I had grown closest to. She was sweet and kind, with a large heart. Since she was not as boisterous as Suzanne or Paige, she seemed to always understand things on a deeper level. “You know I was married,” she said, her words slurring as we sat on a bench just outside the Fireside Grill. The summer air was still hot and the humidity still thick. I lifted the hair off the back of my neck to cool myself before dropping it again. “Wanna know why I got divorced?” “If you want to tell me.” I rested my head on her shoulder, fighting to stay awake. It felt like the bench we were on gently bobbed up and down like a boat in a marina slip. “He left me. We were trying for kids, but it’s not easy for me to have them.” She burped into her hand and I snickered despite myself. “Anyway, we had all these doctor visits, I had all these medicines to take and shots to get. Sucked.” “Yeah.” It would. I couldn’t fathom all that work to try for a baby. My head dropped forward and I forced myself to sit up. I didn’t need to be passing out on the street. “He said it was too stressful and he decided he didn’t want kids.” She sniffed and I watched her wipe away tears. “What he really meant, though, was that he didn’t want them with me. Because just after he left me, I ran into him at the store with his new girlfriend.”

“Oh shit,” I muttered. Her face crinkled with disgust. “And his girlfriend was visibly pregnant.” “No way.” “Yup.” “That seriously blows.” “I know, right?” She sniffed and a harsh laugh escaped her. “I just…I get being hurt and I get being in pain, feeling like you’ve lost the one you were supposed to be with.” Her hand rested on my leg and I reached out, taking her hand in mine and squeezed it. “The thing is, I don’t think Tyson’s done anything that can’t be forgiven, either.” “You’re drunk,” I told her, bumping her shoulder with mine in order to lighten the mood. “Yup.” She bumped back into my shoulder. “But I’m right, too.” I opened my mouth to say something, anything to get us past this, but as soon as I did, a familiar voice called my name. “Blue?” “Speak of the devil,” Chelsea murmured, turning her head to look over my shoulder. “Speak of the sexy handsome devil, indeed.” I snorted and squeezed her hand tighter. “Tell me it’s not him.” “Oh yeah. It’s him.” “Fuck.” Her eyes went wide and she nodded. “Yup. I would.” “I can hear you two,” Tyson said, and from the sound of his voice I knew he was fighting back a laugh. “Declan called me,” he said, swinging a set of keys around his thumb. “Said you two have been out here for a while.” “We called a cab,” I explained. His eyebrows knitted together and he blew out a breath. “I’d like to take you two home.” “Sounds good,” Chelsea chirped and jumped to her feet. Tyson reached out, catching her before she fell over. “I’ll wait.” I crossed my arms over my chest, shaking my head. “It’s just a ride, Blue. I don’t want you getting in a cab when you can barely keep your eyes open.” “Nothing’s going to happen in Latham Hills.” “I bet that’s what the women your dad stole off the streets thought, too.” I hissed in a breath, my body instantly vibrating with fury. Even Chelsea, as drunk as she was, sucked in a breath. “Harsh, Tyson.” He squeezed his eyes closed and ran a hand down his face. “Fuck. I know. I’m sorry,” he said when he opened his eyes and looked at me. I saw the sincerity in his eyes, the dark circles under them. “Please. Just let me get you home so I know you’re okay.” My glance went to Chelsea. Standing next to Tyson—he still had an arm on her back, holding her up—she shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt.”

She was wrong. Dead wrong. Being around Tyson could hurt me. It already had. I also knew he wasn’t going to leave. If I forced it, he would probably end up following the cab around town anyway, just to make sure we didn’t get abducted. My shoulders slumped in defeat and I pushed myself off the bench, slower than Chelsea did so I wouldn’t fall as well. “Fine,” I muttered and began walking in the direction he came from. “But it’s just a ride home.” Tyson’s truck was parked just down the street, so close I was surprised I never heard him pull up. It was late enough that there were few cars on the street and most of the restaurants, with the exclusion of Fireside, were closing for the night. Tyson helped Chelsea into the backseat and then opened the passenger door for me to enter. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low and thick as I climbed into the seat. “For this chance.” “It’s just a ride home, not a chance at anything.” I looked away, knowing my words lacked the conviction I intended. “Whatever you say, Blue.” He smirked and shut the door just as I began to scowl at him. “He’s not a bad guy,” Chelsea whispered as Tyson walked around the front of his vehicle. When I speared her with an angry look she shrugged, her lips twisting into a mischievous grin. “Just sayin’.” I pointed a finger at her and mock glared. “You’re off my Christmas list for getting us into this mess. And I buy kickass Christmas presents.” She rolled her eyes and leaned against the back of her seat, her eyes closing almost immediately. “We’ll see,” she muttered, when Tyson opened the door on his side and climbed in. “We’ll see about what?” “Nothing.” I crossed my arms and looked out the window, wishing like hell I wasn’t trapped inside his truck. It smelled too much like him. I hadn’t been this close to him in months, and even though I wanted to ignore him, the pull toward him was strong. We dropped Chelsea off at her house, and I hated that my heart softened toward Tyson when he walked her up to her front door, helped her inside, and didn’t leave until I knew he had heard her front door lock behind him. He could do so many things so wonderfully, so many things that showed he cared, and I didn’t doubt that he cared about me. I doubted that he loved me like I loved him. I doubted my ability to trust him again. It wasn’t until he pulled into a visitor’s spot directly in front of my apartment building that my drunken mind caught up to what had just happened. I frowned. “You know where I live.” The apartment complex I moved into was large, with four separate buildings. Each building

had three areas for visitor parking, and I didn’t believe for a second that Tyson just happened to pull into the one spot with the closest entrance to my third floor apartment. My irritation spiked as he climbed out of his truck and began walking toward my side. I flung my door open and jumped down, slamming the door behind me. “I wanted to know you were safe.” “Because it wouldn’t be good for your job if your target got hurt, would it?” “It’s not like that,” he hissed. “Whatever.” I pulled away from his outstretched hand and dug into my purse for my keys. “Go home, Tyson.” “Not until I know you’re inside.” His footsteps followed me up the wooden stairs. With my keys in one hand, I held on to the railing with the other to make sure I didn’t fall. I still felt a bit drunk, although the familiar sense of betrayal was quickly sobering me up. But by the time I reached my door, my eyes could barely stay open. I figured I was about five steps away from my couch, where I planned on passing out. I didn’t look at Tyson when I unlocked the door. “I’m home now. Happy?” Tyson slid his hands into his jeans pockets and frowned. “No. I’m not happy.” “Well that’s not my fault, is it?” He inhaled and looked away from me. “No, Blue. It’s not your fault. It’s mine and I know that.” His sad eyes and tender voice made me swallow down quickly rising emotions. “I’m too drunk to deal with this crap tonight,” I muttered and walked inside my home. I was aware that the door didn’t shut behind me, and I knew Tyson helped himself inside when I heard his footsteps following me. The door finally clicked and locked. My super soft, gray couch was calling my name, and I headed directly toward it. “Go away,” I called out, unaware of where Tyson had gone. I kicked off my sandals and reached for my chenille throw, pulling it up to my chin after I laid down on the couch. My eyes were beginning to close when Tyson appeared in my hazy vision, a glass of water in his hand. “Take the water and medicine. It will help with your hangover tomorrow.” “You didn’t give Chelsea the same treatment when you dropped her off.” I was pouting and being immature. I also didn’t care. He knew where I lived, which meant he’d been following me. Or tracing me. Or doing whatever he wanted behind my back. He reached for the blanket, tossing it down to my waist and placed three pills in my palm. “Just take the medicine.” I tossed them into my mouth and took the cup of water from his hand, sitting up so I could swallow it down without spilling. Then I handed the cup back to him. “Happy now?” “No.” I closed my eyes and set my head on the armrest. I shifted to get comfortable, but then I felt hands on me, arms sliding beneath me, and I yelped in surprise when Tyson hefted me

into his arms. “Put me down!” I shouted squirming in his hold. “I’m just taking you to bed so you can sleep better. Tomorrow we’ll talk.” I shook my head. “We have nothing to say,” I replied as he lowered me to my bed. I let go of him, unaware that my hands had been clinging to his shirt while he held me. I kept my mouth shut as he adjusted the covers, pulling them over me while I rolled to my side. “I have a lot to say to you, and you’re going to listen.” “Just leave me alone,” I whispered, my heavy eyelids closing again. “I can’t,” he whispered. I felt his breath on my cheek and my nose before his lips brushed against my forehead. I shivered from head to toe at that smallest touch. “I love you too much.” I swallowed thickly, that lump in my throat returning. “I hate you.” “No, you don’t,” he whispered, pressing his lips more firmly against my forehead. “You just wish you did. Now sleep so we can finally talk tomorrow.” I couldn’t argue with him. His scent, his touches, and his kisses had rendered me speechless. Instead, I burrowed into my pillow and passed out. The last memory I had was of Tyson’s knuckles softly grazing my cheek.

Chapter 22 The smell of freshly brewed coffee assaulted my senses before I fully awoke. Rolling over, I cracked one eye open only to find a dark brown coffee mug, with the words “Keep Calm and Drink Coffee” printed in white ink, inches from my face. “What’s this?” I asked, my voice still hoarse from sleep. Tyson set it down on the table next to my bed and took a step back. “Made you coffee.” I narrowed my eyes, flickering my gaze from the mug and then back to him. I sat up in the bed, bringing the covers with me. Memories of last night flashed in my mind, and I remembered Tyson showing up outside Fireside and driving me home. “You stayed.” He crossed his arms over his chest and backed up until his hip rested against my dresser. I followed his movement only to notice that he was wearing different clothes than he had been wearing last night. In lieu of the faded jeans and gray shirt he had been wearing, he now had on black dress pants and a cleanly pressed white shirt. “You went home and came back?” One eyebrow arched in question. “Found a spare key in one of your drawers and took it with me so I could get back in.” I reached for my coffee, needing the caffeinated fuel to wake me up. “How very creepy of you,” I replied once I had my first hit of caffeine. I looked at the clock and saw that it was still earlier than I usually woke up. Since he probably knew that, with his FBI superpowers, I didn’t bother with an excuse of running late. He stood still, watching me sip my coffee, and I stopped looking at him. It was too confusing. My body responded to his presence, my heart beating a little faster, even as a warning blared in my head telling me he was nothing but a liar. “How long are you going to stand there and stare at me?” I asked when my coffee was almost all gone. “As long as it takes for you to be willing to talk to me.” I rolled my eyes and set the mug down. “I don’t think I have anything to say.” “Maybe I do.” His words from last night flickered through my hazy memory. I can’t. I love you too much. I muffled a gasp and looked away. “There she is,” he said. “Now she’s remembering.” “It would have helped to have heard that before.” “While I was still lying to you?” he pressed. “Would you have believed me then?” “You’re assuming I believe you at all,” I snapped, glaring at him. He pushed off the dresser and stalked toward me, not stopping until he reached my bed and sat down on the edge. I wanted him gone.

I wanted to pull him down to me and see if his full lips were as soft as I remembered. As if he knew what I was thinking, his tongue slid out and licked his bottom lip. “Blue, I can’t begin to describe how difficult this was for me.” He leaned forward as I tried to scramble away, but he held me in place with one hand on each side of my hips. I looked away from him even as a blush hit my cheeks. He was too close and smelled too good. Even beneath his white dress shirt, I could see the muscles of his biceps flex. “Do you think I care right now how difficult it was for you?” I asked, feeling my emotions begin to bubble. “I was nothing but a pawn, and you took away my family.” “I helped incarcerate a man who belonged in jail.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, showing his tension. I looked past it. “And do you feel your own father’s death has been avenged now that you finally put mine away?” He dipped his chin, locking his eyes on mine. “Yes. In part. I’m not going to lie about that.” “How noble of you.” I pushed on his arms, needing to get away from him. “Let me go. I’m not discussing this while we’re in my bed.” With one quick move, he had my wrists clamped together and he pushed me backward on the bed, my head flopping on my pillow. He shifted when my hips thrust against him and pinned me down by straddling my thighs with his. “Look at me,” he practically growled. I pulled my eyes to his, his face inches from mine. If I leaned forward the smallest amount, I could have had his lips on mine. I shouldn’t want it so badly when I was so mad at him, yet I couldn’t deny my reaction to him, either. I hated it and loved it in equal measure. “What?” I snapped. “You stopped being a job to me the moment I saw your picture.” “What picture?” “My supervising agent showed me a picture when they pulled me in to the job,” he said and dropped his head. I shivered beneath him as his nose slid against mine and across my cheek. “I need you to believe this. What we have, what we started growing together wasn’t false, and if you think back to the time we spent together, you’ll know it. You were caught in the middle, I know. Yes, I was sent here from DC to look into you and your family. The FBI heard you’d been called home and they wanted to know why, because a three-year investigation on your father’s business was tightening and coming to a close. When they learned that you were returning home, they thought you were going to be part of it. There were a few small missing pieces of a puzzle they were trying to put together and they figured you were the answer, somehow. We didn’t know your mom was sick. So, yes, they put me in place to get that information from you. But I need you to think back to all the time we spent together, the things we talked about, the things we did…” He paused and dropped his hips against mine. I could feel him, every inch. We were thigh to thigh, chest to chest, and even though there were blankets, bedding, and clothes between us, I still had to fight my reaction to him. My hands went lax in his hold. “You’re the only woman I want,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. Goosebumps prickled on my skin. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. I just didn’t want

to tell you that with my job and your family between us.” I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent, soaking in his touch. I was losing my fight against him. “I hate you,” I whispered, even as my hips pressed into his. “I hate that I love you. I hate that you used me. I hate that when I needed you to be there for me when my mom was buried, I had just learned that you betrayed me.” “I know.” His forehead dropped to mine as a ripple of pleasure rolled through me. “And I hate that I couldn’t be there for you. I wanted to hold you, to comfort you. I wanted to show you how much I love you.” Love. I didn’t know if I could trust him. So I told him that and he flinched, pulling back from me until he sat up. Swinging a leg off of mine, he pulled me with him until we were both sitting and facing each other. “I’ll have to work to earn your trust back, I know this. I just want the chance.” He leaned forward, his hand curled around my neck and then moved to the back of my head, cupping it in his large palm. His gaze softened, roaming my face. “I can’t stop touching you.” I didn’t want him to. “Tyson.” I breathed out his name on a sigh. “You feel this. I know you do.” The connection between us was electric. Undeniable. I was fooling myself if I thought I could stay away from him. Still, with a self-control I didn’t know I possessed until that moment, I tugged away from his grip. “I’ve loved you since I was just a teenager,” I said. I couldn’t help myself. I reached out and brushed a finger along his jawline, feeling the light scruff on his unshaven cheeks. I smiled, but it was sad and tears clouded my vision. “I don’t know if I can forgive you for this, or if I can understand all that you’ve done.” “Blue.” His voice was pained, his expression anguished as he called my name. I dropped my hand and shook my head. Sliding out from beneath the covers, I stood in front of him. He reached for me, but I stepped out of his reach. “I’ll try though,” I finally admitted when the silence in the room became heavy and weighted. His eyes snapped to mine and something sparked in them. “You will?” He stood and took another step toward me. I moved back again. I wanted to trust him. I wanted him to earn it, but if he touched me, I’d fall into his arms and his touch and his kisses, and I wanted to be smart, too. “I will. But not now. I have to get ready for work, and I need more time to think about this.” He reached for me again, this time moving too quickly for me. His arm wrapped around my lower back, and he pulled me closer until I collapsed against him. My hands flew up to brace

myself against his chest. “Tyson.” It was a tortured whisper, filled with despair. “I need to get ready for work.” “And I’ll let you, as soon as you do something for me.” “What?” He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he lowered his head to mine and at the same time he tilted it. One of his hands slid up my side until he cupped my cheek. Then his lips met mine. He kissed me like I was meant for him. Like I was the only woman he ever wanted to kiss. His lips teased mine and he nipped at my lower lip, eliciting sensations from me that had been gone for too long without his touch. I melted into him, forgetting all the difficulties we still faced, all the pain I still bore in my heart because of him. He growled low before he pulled back and set me away from him with his hands on my shoulders. “I want to see you tonight. Explain everything I can.” “Okay.” I nodded, my fingertips rising to brush against my lips. I could still taste him. Mint and coffee. It was my new favorite flavor. “I’ll let you get ready for work, then.” He took a step away. I longed to reach out to him, to pull him back to me. To finish what he’d just started. My emotions rioted inside of me. Physical need burst, needing his touch, needing him. But I held back. I still had questions, and I still deserved answers. “Tyson,” I called, when he was almost at the door to my bedroom. His eyes flickered with concern before he grinned. “Yes?” “I want my key back.” He smirked and shook his head. “Not on your life.” He turned and was gone. A laugh barreled out of me as I shook my head and turned toward my bathroom. “See you tonight, Blue! Six o’clock!” I didn’t have time to answer before I heard my front door open and then close behind him. And as I walked to the bathroom, I was still smiling, still thinking of him, but most of all… I was still wanting him. — My jaw dropped as soon as I entered my apartment. The lights were off but I could still see clearly. On every available surface, candlelight swayed from cream candles, casting a romantic glow all over my living room. “Tyson?” I called out when I was met with complete silence. He appeared in the kitchen doorway, in jeans slung low on his hips and a simple T-shirt that stretched over him perfectly. My mouth practically drooled in anticipation. “What is this?” I asked, dropping my purse on a table, careful to avoid the candle flame. I

kicked off my heels and walked toward him. “How was your day?” he asked, avoiding my own question. “Good.” I grinned, recalling my day. “The best, actually.” One side of his lips kicked up at the outer edge. “Want to tell me about it?” I glanced around my apartment that he had completely taken over. The smells of something cooking in the kitchen almost stole my attention before I looked back at him. “I thought we agreed on six o’clock.” It was only five. I snuck out a few minutes early so I could have plenty of time to get ready for wherever Tyson was planning on taking me. “We did. I wanted to get here early and get everything ready.” “This?” I waved a hand in the air. “What is this?” He pushed off the doorframe and headed toward me, not stopping until he was just a foot away. I had to tilt my head back slightly to maintain eye contact. “We still have things to talk about,” he said. “I thought it’d be best done in private.” “And breaking into my apartment was the only way?” He shrugged, unashamed. “It seemed the easiest way.” “And you cooked?” He laughed quietly and held out his hand. “No. I had my grandma make dinner, I’m just reheating it.” I placed my hand in his and followed him into my own kitchen, not unaware of the fact that he seemed just as familiar in my space as he did in his own. “I brought the wine and Grandma made some lasagna. It should be done soon if you want a glass of wine while we wait.” I wanted a bottle. I figured I’d need it. My mind overflowed with questions and thoughts. “A glass would be nice,” I said instead. I took a seat on one of my barstools while Tyson headed to the fridge, saying as he opened the door, “So tell me about your day. What made it so good?” I debated for a moment before answering. I wanted to get right to the questions I had, but I liked the feel of this. Tyson waiting for me when I got home, him serving me, him wanting to be with me. I wanted this to play out for as long as possible. “Simone promoted me to Associate Planner yesterday.” He arched a brow and looked at me while he uncorked the wine. “That the reason for the celebrating last night?” “Part of it.” I shrugged. “The rest was trying to drown my sorrows.” Sadness flickered in his gaze and the air stalled between us before he popped the cork and poured a glass of pinot grigio. He slid me a glass and I took it, thankful for the distraction. “Should we talk now or after dinner?” he asked, placing his palms on the counter. He was braced like he was ready for an argument. My earlier decision to let this fantasy play out changed. “It’s probably better to talk.” “Right.” He nodded and turned toward the oven, flicking a switch at the back. “Let’s go to

the living room.” He gestured for me to go first and I waited as he reached back into the fridge and pulled out a beer for himself. A sarcastic comment about him helping himself in my own home was on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back. “I joined the FBI soon after college,” he said, stating it plainly as soon as he sat down. “I can’t lie and say that after my football injury I knew what I was going to do with my life because I struggled for a long time. But I could never stop thinking about my father’s death and the men who caused it.” He paused for a moment, arched a brow, and waited for me to respond. I had nothing to say. All loyalty to my own father had evaporated when I learned he had been selling girls to line his pockets. When I stayed silent, he continued. “My mom took my father’s death hard and she’s never fully recovered. I was away at college, rarely coming home, and she was in the house I grew up in with only her memories. Eventually, after she moved to Florida, she started coming back to herself, but I’m going to be honest and say the rage I still felt simmered inside me for a long time. Perhaps it always will.” “I get all that, Tyson,” I said softly. “I’m not going to sit here and say I don’t understand why you took a job with the FBI, or why you even wanted to go after my father. What hurts is that you lied to me and that I trusted you.” I blinked and took a large gulp of my wine. “All those days you talked about your work, all the times you stopped us from going too far at the beginning…everything makes sense now.” “Then you know I tried to wait. That I didn’t want this shit between us, but damn it, Blue. It’s you and it’s me, we’re inevitable.” He was right. I not only knew it, I had spent all day deciding I no longer wanted to stay away from him. “What happened?” “There are still things I can’t tell you,” he admitted, hesitancy clear in his voice. “The case is technically still open until the trial.” “I understand that, too.” I hated it. But I got it. His shoulders slumped as if I’d personally lifted a weight off his shoulders. Perhaps I had. Licking his lips, he set down his beer and moved closer to me so his hand could reach out and hold mine. His was cold from his beer, but his grasp was firm. A shiver slid up my arm, and he looked down, watching goosebumps flare on my skin. “I was in DC when my supervisor called me in. He tossed a file into my lap and told me I was going undercover. I told you that this morning, but they knew you’d been called home. Fuck, Blue, you can’t begin to know the amount of relief I felt knowing that you were even still alive. All those years I spent waiting for you to come home, to reach out to me…and suddenly, there you were, your beautiful face in a photo inside your father’s file.” The photo he mentioned this morning. I had wondered what he meant by that. “I saw that picture, knew I would be seeing you again, knew I’d have to get close to you, and do you know what I said to myself the moment I left my office and hopped on a flight to

Denver?” Nothing about us was coincidence. Not even meeting on the plane. I beat back the wave of disappointment the revelation gave me and pushed through it. “What?” “I said, ‘fuck it.’ I’d lose my job if I had to, but there was no way I was going to get that close to you again and let you slip through my fingers. You weren’t a job to me. You were the woman I fell in love with.” “And did you lose your job?” I asked, unable to hide the snide tone in my voice. I already knew the answer. It was quite possibly the biggest slap in the face, maybe the thing causing me the largest doubt since the nightmare of seeing Tyson arrest my father. “No,” he answered. “I was promoted to Managing Field Officer of their Detroit office.” “Do they know about us?” I recognized my slip the instant it left my mouth. Tyson’s smile told me he caught it. “I told them that the woman I love is in Detroit and I’m not leaving. Not now. Not ever.” I blew out a breath and reached for my glass. After several moments of being unable to look at him, I finally asked, “Is there anything I ever said that helped you with your case? The night I told you about Malik, did you use that?” His eyes narrowed and he sucked his lip between his teeth. It was my answer. “Yes.” I swallowed, and turned away from him. Somehow, I knew this. Weeks ago, it might have hurt too much. But sitting with him, I couldn’t dig deep enough inside of me to feel any sort of pity or pain from hearing the truth. “Will you ever lie to me again?” “No.” His answer was firm. Abrupt. When our eyes locked, I knew it to be absolutely true. “Okay,” I whispered, leaning toward him. Tyson might have hidden truths from me, but I had to finally admit that they were for a greater good. Because of him, perhaps because of me in some way, dozens of evil men were off the streets—at least for the time being. “Then I’ll give you a chance to prove that I can trust you again.” His eyes widened as my fingertips brushed against his cheek. “You sure?” I nodded, nerves and anticipation making my smile falter as I leaned closer to him. He met me halfway and I gasped as our lips brushed against each other. “Tyson,” I murmured against his lips. He reached out and wrapped his hands around my hips, pulling me to him so I was straddling him on the couch. “What?” His hand curled around the back of my neck. A delicious shiver rolled through me, spreading outward until my body felt too warm…too exposed. “I love you.” “Ah hell,” he whispered, sliding his lips along my jaw and back to my ear. “I love you, too. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you so you never doubt me again.”

I opened my mouth to tell him it wasn’t necessary, that I already know I wouldn’t. But then his lips pressed against mine, and his tongue slid into my mouth, tasting me and devouring me. I decided that what I had to say could wait, because I had a feeling I was going to like the way he proved his love to me.

Epilogue ONE MONTH LATER “I feel like we should have our own table since we’re here so much,” I told Tyson as he opened the door to Fireside Grill. We were here so often it felt almost like my second home. Or third. Considering I’d been splitting my life between my apartment and Tyson’s house, his felt like my second. He chuckled as he guided me toward a table near the bar, and we both waved hello to Charlie. “I thought you were headed back to college,” I said to him as Tyson pulled out a chair at a high top table. Charlie tossed the towel he had been using to wipe down the bar over his shoulder and leaned forward. “Decided to take the semester off. I don’t leave until January.” “Well, good luck.” I smiled and shook my head when he said something about how, with his looks, he didn’t need luck, before he walked away. “Such a charmer,” I muttered to Tyson when he sat in the chair next to me. “And you’re a flirt.” He winked teasingly. I shrugged and smiled at Charlie as he set a margarita on the table in front of me. “Aw,” I clasped my hand to my chest. “It’s like you know me.” Tyson cleared his throat and scowled at me, making me laugh. Charlie’s cheeks turned deep red as he set down Tyson’s favorite ale. I wondered briefly if it should concern me that we were here often enough that even the bartender knew our drinks. “Careful, Charlie. Would hate to have to take you out back.” Charlie’s smile disappeared and he nodded once before walking away. “You don’t have to scare the kid,” I said and picked up the menu. Not that I needed it; there were six things on there that I always ordered depending on my mood and tonight felt like a large nacho platter kind of night. “Kid needs to learn not to stare at a man’s woman with a look that says he’d fuck her if he had the chance.” Tyson set his menu down and clasped his hands on top of it. He was dead serious, which made me choke down a laugh. “He’s in college,” I reminded Tyson. “He is a kid.” “Yeah, and probably popular as shit, but once he gets out, he could get his ass kicked for doing what he just did to the wrong guy’s woman.” I sipped my margarita instead of trying to scold Tyson over the fact that while we might be together—happily—I wasn’t anyone’s to own. We’d had this talk enough for me to know it’d fall on deaf ears anyway. Needless to say, in the last month, our relationship had moved full speed ahead.

He was loving his job, a job that I actually truly admired when I wasn’t involved. I quickly stopped doubting how much Tyson cared for me, and once I was able to separate his job and the past from our current relationship, there was no looking back. My father’s case was progressing although we still had several months before the actual trial. Tyson kept me informed as much as possible, but I quickly learned that there would always be things I couldn’t know about his job. But I did know that my father’s organization had essentially collapsed from the top down. I was sure another mafia member would step in and take over someday, because when one bad man fell, another was always there to pick up the pieces. But it was no longer my problem. It also wasn’t a part of my life. My life had been filled with a career I loved, a man I loved even more, and a handful of friends I couldn’t imagine living without. “How was your day?” Tyson asked and leaned forward, changing the subject. For the next several minutes, I regaled him with tales of several different headaches I’d had to deal with at work while Tyson listened intently to every complaint and every story. I loved that, regardless of what I was going through, I always had his full focus. I paused during my story of an exceptionally bitchy client when our waitress stopped by to take our orders, but before I could restart, a familiar feminine voice called my name. “Hey, you,” I said back and waved to Chelsea as she sauntered up to our table. “What are you doing here?” “Hey, Tyson,” she said to him before facing me. He nodded hello and sipped his drink. “Just picking up some food before I go back home and enjoy a Netflix marathon.” My eyes flickered to Tyson in a silent question, and he nodded. “That sounds dreadful.” I pulled out the chair next to me and pointed. “Join us.” “I couldn’t.” “You can,” Tyson interrupted with a smile. “And you will.” “Well,” she huffed playfully but listened. “Who am I to say no then?” Then she leaned toward me and mock whispered, “Is he always this bossy?” “No—,” he started, as soon as I said, “Yes.” I glared at him. “Always.” He rolled his eyes and we gave Chelsea time to place her drink and dinner order before I asked her about her week. She’d been busy lately getting ready for school to start back up next week. “Ugh. It’s exhausting and I know Paige is even more tired after spending the week setting up her room for the year. For me, I have all the books and computers set up. I just need to finish my lesson plans and then I’ll spend time helping the other middle school teachers.” “You sound excited to get back to work,” Tyson said. Chelsea’s smile brightened. “Yes. I love being around the kids, absolutely.” She was a librarian in the middle school. I couldn’t imagine being around that many kids for that many hours every single day, but she and Paige both loved their jobs. Our chatter turned to general conversation about our days and our lives, and then we continued with another round of drinks while we waited for our food. After Declan personally delivered our dinners, he was getting ready to head back to the

kitchen when the front door opened and a man named Aidan and his son, Derrick, walked in. Aidan was friends with both Tyson and Declan, and his son was fourteen years old, going into eighth grade in the fall. I didn’t know the full story of why the mom wasn’t in the picture, but I knew Aidan had become a parent when he was still a teenager and that all three men had been friends since college. I’d only met Aidan in passing, once or twice, in the last few months. Tyson’s job didn’t allow much time for socializing and he generally tended to be a relax-at-home kind of guy, something I enjoyed immensely. I might not have known Aidan well, but Chelsea clearly did, because I caught the faint blush that painted her cheeks as both guys sauntered toward us. It was easy to see that Derrick was Aidan’s son: they had the same dark hair, strong jaw, and tall and lean build. He was still a teenager, but I figured it wouldn’t be long until he matched his dad in size and stature. “Hey, man,” Declan said, standing and grabbing Aidan’s elbow in some sort of manly grip. He pulled him close and slapped him on the back twice. He immediately did the same thing to Derrick but gentler. Aidan turned toward the table and said hello to all of us. When he stopped at Chelsea, her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. I resisted the urge to kick her under the table when she stuttered, “Hello, Mr. Devereaux… Derrick.” One side of Aidan’s lips quirked into a smirk. “Call me Aidan when we’re not in school, Chelsea.” She dipped her chin and pressed her lips together. “You got it, Aidan.” His smirk turned into a grin. I caught Derrick rolling his eyes and hid my laugh behind my napkin. “What are you guys up to tonight?” Aidan asked, focusing on Tyson and me. “Dinner and home,” Tyson said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Been slammed at work this week and I need to get some damn sleep.” “Bummer,” Chelsea chirped, “because I was just thinking, I know Paige and Suzanne aren’t doing anything tonight. Or Camden. We could all hang out at my place, have a bonfire.” Her eyes flickered to Aidan’s before she focused on me and with a quieter, shyer voice I’d never heard her use, finished with, “Probably won’t have too many nice nights once school starts.” I pressed my lips together and gave Tyson big eyes. He shrugged. “Whatever you want, honey.” Chelsea’s backyard was the bomb, as I had learned the first time she’d had a girls’ night at her place. It was gorgeous and filled with trees, bushes, and flowering plants and had this firepit in the back corner that made you feel like you were in a wilderness oasis, without the risk of snakes and bears. The first time I was there, it reminded me of Colorado because it was so peaceful and the girls and I had hung out there a few times in the last couple of weeks, drinking wine around the fire, roasting marshmallows—or even better, when we skipped the marshmallows and just ate chocolate bars. I freaking loved it. I smiled at Chelsea. “We’re in.” Then I looked at Aidan. “What about you guys?”

Aidan’s eyes softened in a way I suspected meant he wanted to come but wouldn’t and he was trying to find a way to let Chelsea down easy. Maybe it was the fact that I was finally in love and I wanted that for a friend of mine, who had been through so much that it made my heart clench, because I began to speak up. Then Derrick jumped in and almost shouted, “Yeah, that’d be awesome,” at the same time that Aidan muttered, “Sorry, Chelsea, but we can’t. Got something going on this weekend.” Derrick’s eyes went to his dad. “We do?” Aidan’s lips tightened but he said nothing. I saw Chelsea frown and I lifted my shoulders. “We’re still in.” “Awesome,” she said, only half meaning it. Then she slid out her credit card, but Tyson stopped her. “We got dinner. You’re providing the fire later.” “I couldn’t,” she started to stay. “Trust me, Chelsea,” I said. “Let him pay. If you argue, you’ll lose and just have wasted your breath. Save it for something important.” Next to me, Tyson chuckled. Aidan and Declan grinned. That was when I knew they were the same kind of men Tyson was. Good men. Bossy men. I loved that kind of man. Chelsea gave in with a defeated sigh and reached for her purse. “Fine then, but I’m leaving a tip. I’ll go call the girls. I’ll see you in a bit?” “Yup,” I returned as she slid off her stool. Then I watched her say goodbye to Declan and Derrick, before her eyes shifted and she barely managed to murmur a word to Aidan. I gave her a smile when she walked away. But I noticed when I turned back to the table I wasn’t the only one watching her leave, because Aidan’s eyes were trained on her back. I smiled into my glass when I heard Tyson ask, “You doing anything Declan? Any chance you can get some time off and hang with us?” One side of his lips rose into a sneer. “Nah. I’ve had some problems in the alley lately.” Tyson’s interest piqued and his back straightened. “What kind of problems?” Declan waved him off. “Probably just some little high school shits messing around by the dumpsters, but I want to stick around until close to see if I can stop them.” “If you need me—,” Tyson started. Declan scowled further. “I think I can handle teenage fuckers.” Tyson lifted his hands and surrendered. “All right, man. Just checking.” “Damn,” Aidan said, smirking as a waitress walked up with two plastic bags. I figured they were a to-go order Aidan must have called in before he arrived because she walked straight toward him. “Give the guy a lead job in the FBI and he thinks he’s the shit.” Declan snorted.

Tyson rolled his eyes. I threw my head back and laughed. “We gotta go,” Aidan said, after he took the bags from the waitress. “See you around?” “You got it,” Tyson stated, and slapped his friend on the back. After a round of goodbyes, and after Declan headed back to the kitchen and our food was paid for, Tyson turned to me and helped me off the stool. “What are the chances I have time to get you home and get you naked in bed before we have to be at Chelsea’s? I feel like it’s been days since I’ve been inside of you.” It had been less than twelve hours, considering he had woken me up that morning with his tongue doing delicious things in between my thighs, causing me to start my day with not one, but two orgasms. I flashed him a coy smile. “How about you take me to your place and find out?” — “Yes,” I gasped, thrusting my hips further. My hands fell forward until my fingers curled around Tyson’s shoulders. I was on top, after being on the bottom when Tyson had reminded me how incredible his tongue was on all parts of my body. When he’d given me one orgasm, he’d flipped us over and told me the rest was mine to take. He meant that for about a minute before he held me by the hips and thrust into me from beneath, rocking my world in more ways than one. “Bluejay,” he groaned, and rocked into me. Then he shifted his hips as he pulled me down on him, and he hit some secret place inside me somehow only he’d been able to find. It was amazing and intense, and as he continued pushing his hips up, while pressing me down against him, my climax pulled me over the edge. I squeezed my eyes closed, felt my entire body begin to tremble as bright white lights flashed behind my closed lids. “Tyson!” I cried out. He did his thrust, press, and roll maneuver again, and pushed inside me again while pressing his forehead into the crook of my shoulder. “Fuck,” he groaned out as he sheathed himself to the hilt inside me. I was breathless and speechless. My heart pounded against my chest and I felt his heartbeat match mine. My fingertips grazed his back, lightly running up and down his spine while we both groaned out the end of our pleasure and gave ourselves a few minutes to calm down. “I want you to move in with me,” Tyson said, pressing his lips to the column of my throat. Despite the two orgasms I already had, that one spot where he kissed me still made goosebumps erupt on my heated skin. “What?” I asked, and blinked rapidly. He pulled back, braced himself above me with his arms straight, hands at the side of my head. “Do you love me?” he asked, and his eyes roamed my face. I smiled. “Of course I love you.” “Then move in with me.”

I thought about it for about five seconds before I realized the only con was that we’d really only been together a month. Then I realized that con didn’t matter to me. “Okay.” His eyebrows jumped. “You’re agreeing that easily?” I tilted my head and smirked. “Do you love me?” His lips twisted. “Of course I love you, you know that.” I grinned. “Then why would I say no?” He laughed softly, leaned down, and brushed his lips against mine. My body did that full body quiver it always did when he kissed me back to my ear, and then I gasped when he whispered, “Someday, I’m going to give you a new last name. And it all starts with you moving in with me.” I swallowed, shocked, but not shocked. I knew a month ago…I knew the day I saw Tyson on the plane to Denver and after that first night we had dinner together that if we ever did get back together, what he was implying was exactly where I wanted us to end up. I pressed my hands into his short black hair and tugged him off me, smiling. Then I winked. “Someday, I’m going to let you.” “I love you, Gabriella Bluejay,” he whispered when he saw that I was serious, and that I not only meant it, but I wanted it. I let all that play out on my face and licked my lips. “I’ve never loved another besides you, Tyson. Can’t imagine why I’d ever want to love another.” His feigned a scowl, slowly slid out of me, and stood. Then he held out his hand and smiled. “Come on. We need to get to Chelsea’s before she wonders where we went.” I was learning that having a group of girlfriends meant that there was nothing sacred in regards to relationships. We shared, and we shared frequently about how good our men were in and out of bed. I had no doubt Chelsea knew exactly where I was and why we were late. Still, I didn’t care. I let Tyson pull me out of bed before I rolled to my toes and kissed his lips. I had a life to begin living and enjoying and I didn’t want to miss a minute more.

To Aaron You’re the jelly to my peanut butter. Thank you for supporting and encouraging me. Love you more.

Acknowledgments While you can often find me sitting on my couch, willing words to come to life while I write books, I am never fully alone. I’m so fortunate to have a great team of people who work with me and support me every single day. Thank you to all the authors I’ve met and groups I’ve been a part of for the last several years. I couldn’t survive without the encouragement and friendships I’ve made with the ladies in my CP group. To the women in FTN, you all make me laugh every single day! Thanks for being a bright spot in my day and for aiding in my procrastination when the words simply aren’t flowing. Shannon, I’ve said it before and I’ll probably say it again: I couldn’t survive without you. You’re the best PA a writer could ask for and I dearly love our friendship. Thank you for always taking the time to read my books and tear them apart, thus making them better for everyone who comes after you. Michelle, thanks for taking a chance on me! You’re an incredible agent. I’m so thankful for all of your support and the help you’re always willing to provide. Sue, thank you, too, for taking a chance on me and loving my books. I’m so honored to be a part of the Loveswept family. To all the readers and bloggers who have read, enjoyed, reviewed, and shared my books and teasers…you all are the best. The absolute best. I couldn’t do what I love without all of you helping to spread the word. To my family, I love you. There’s nothing you could ever say or do that would ever make me stop loving you. Finally, to Him who sits on the throne. All glory and honor is Yours. Thank you for loving a mess like me.

BY

STACEY LY NN

Fireside His to Love His to Protect

Nordic Lords MC Point of Return Point of Redemption Point of Freedom Point of Surrender

Just One Song Just One Song Just One Week Just One Regret Just One Moment

Standalones Remembering Us Don’t Lie to Me Try Me (A Don’t Lie to Me Novella)

PHOTO: © MAE I DESIGN AND PHOTOGRAPHY

STACEY LY NN is a simple girl raised in the Midwest. Over the long, frigid winters, she would read every book she could get her hands on, from John Grisham and Danielle Steel to Ann M. Martin and C. S. Lewis. She began writing poems and short stories long before she reached high school, and now, as a wife and mother to four children, she finds solace from the craziness of her life by creating steamy, sexy stories. After publishing her first book, what began as a hobby has now turned into an unending passion. staceylynnbooks.com Facebook.com/staceylynnbooks @staceylynnbooks

The Editor’s Corner Swing into spring this May with Loveswept! We’ve got something for everyone, so take your pick from these fabulous romance books. Tracy March brings you another enchanting novel set in Colorado, with book two in her Thistle Bend series, Just Say Maybe. Brenda Rothert releases her first Loveswept book, Blown Away, a sensual, emotionally charged novel of love and loss in which a tender affair gives two daring storm chasers the strength to overcome shattered dreams and the courage to build a future together. Then we go from extreme weather to the world of extreme sports with Zoe Dawson’s pulse-pounding Mavrick Allstars series debut, the steamy Ramping Up. Bestselling author HelenKay Dimon makes her Loveswept debut with Mr. and Mr. Smith. Moving on from the suspenseful to the sensual is a novel of pleasure and persuasion revolving around a high-stakes business deal in which the rules of negotiation are defined by desire in Shawntelle Madison’s Bound to You. New York Times bestselling author Noelle Adams introduces a notorious tech mogul who makes a mild-mannered woman an offer she can’t refuse and gets in return a battle for control—and a million-dollar affair—in Fooling Around. The Hunt Club continues with Pamela Labud’s A Most Delicate Pursuit. New York Times bestselling author Erin McCarthy follows Nashville’s hottest country music duo as they fight for love in a city where dreams often cost a broken heart in Heart Breaker. And New York Times bestselling author Sawyer Bennett proves that vengeance is sweet—but seduction is to die for—in Sugar Daddy. Wait—there’s more! Gina Gordon’s White Lace series continues in book two with lots of sizzle and heat in Reason to Believe. A. M. Madden continues the True Heroes series—hot hero alert!—with Glass Ceilings. Two tortured souls share an unbreakable bond even as they break taboos, as Laura Marie Altom does it again with a fabulous stepbrother romance in Stepping Over the Line. Back in the sporting world, Stacked Up continues the Worth the Fight series from USA Today bestselling author Sidney Halston. And Interference continues the Pilots Hockey series from Sophia Henry, where a young single mom falls for a damaged coach pulling double-duty as a cop. It’s a great month for relationships, so follow us on Facebook and Twitter and let the romance begin! Until next month ~Happy Romance!

Gina Wachtel Associate Publisher

Read on for an excerpt from

His to Protect A Fireside Novel

by Stacey Lynn

Available from Loveswept

Chapter 2 I walked away from the woman—Trina—before I did something asinine like demand she tell me who gave her the fading bruise on her cheek. I noticed it as soon as she stepped into the lit doorway of the restaurant and felt the overwhelming urge to pummel someone. Figuring she wouldn’t like seeing my hands balled into fists, it took every ounce of selfcontrol I possessed to tamp down that anger and scan the rest of her body. When I did, I noticed several things, all at once. She wasn’t homeless. My ex-wife Mara spent enough hours at the salon getting her hair and nails done, and then bitching about roots showing and chipped polish, for me to instantly see that this woman lived a lifestyle that Mara craved. This woman’s clothes were high-end. No cheap pair of jeans could hug a woman’s hips and thighs, and most likely her ass, as well as the ones this woman wore. A flash of her throwing her hand up in front of her face when I went to stop her from running pierced my mind and I fought the urge to growl. No, she wasn’t homeless, like I had originally assumed when I saw her crouched over a bag of ripped up garbage and handing food from it to her dog. She was hiding. Running. And for some damn reason, I had the overwhelming instinct to take care of her. For one meal, I reminded myself. I had enough shit going on in my life that I didn’t need this additional cause to take on. Saving my restaurant was my priority; it hadn’t had a profitable month all year. And while the fall and football season generally meant more business, I still had more problems than solutions. I didn’t need any more. “You decide what you want?” I asked, turning on the grill on the cooktop. Focus. I needed to focus. Feed her, get her out of here, and go home to a stiff drink so I could wash away the memory of what I thought when I first saw her. Protect her. When she didn’t answer, I twisted my neck to see her hovering by the walkway. She could keep an eye on the door to the alley and her dog, as well as me at the same time. I didn’t blame her for being scared of me. Women either wanted to fuck me or skip to the other side of the street when they saw me coming. I couldn’t help it. I’d been addicted to sports since I could walk and throw a football. Four years of college football only increased my love for being in shape. The few minor body building competitions I did after college cemented it. Lifting weights and working out relieved my stress. I carried enough on my shoulders on a daily basis that lifting was no longer a hobby, but an obsession. “I can get you a menu,” I told Trina when she didn’t answer me but instead sucked her lips

between her teeth. “Salad,” she muttered and blinked. “No, wait…” I tried to keep my expression blank while she chewed on that damn lip. Not because it was sexy, but because between the lip biting and fidgeting she was doing with her hands, I could tell she was still nervous. Over a damn meal? With a nod, she looked at me, meeting my gaze for the first time. “I want a burger. With cheese. Two slices…oh.” Her face lit up, her smile wide. I felt like I’d just been punched in the gut. “And with fried onions.” “Onions?” Her head snapped back at my question and that lip found its way between her teeth again before she looked away. “I mean, if that’s okay. Or if it’s too much work, I’ll just take the salad.” Her shoulders slumped as she turned back toward the dog. Somehow, I got the feeling that decision was about way more than food. I watched her as she shifted on her feet, eyes focused on the door like she was ready to make a run for it, but then her fingers brushed against the yellowish bruise on her cheekbone. Something inside me ignited. Like a match struck and thrown on a fire. “Trina,” I snapped and then inhaled a breath, blowing it out slowly as she turned my way. “I’ll cook you whatever you want,” I said, trying to soften my deep voice even though inside I felt like boiling over. It was a damn burger. This stranger shouldn’t ignite something like this inside me. But damn it. She’d been beaten, that much was obvious. And I was beginning to think she’d taken more than a physical beating if her fidgeting and uncertainty was any indication. I quickly walked away from the stovetop, hoping like hell she’d stay where she was when I moved toward the office. I grabbed a spare barstool and carried it back, setting it down close to her but trying to respect her personal space. She jumped as the wood scraped on the cement floor and her hand fell from her curly blonde hair. Not platinum blonde and super fake like Mara’s was. Trina’s was darker, but with streaks of light that told me she doesn’t just get her hair highlighted…she spends a large amount of money on it. My fascination with her was piqued. “Have a seat,” I said, keeping my voice soft. “If you want a salad I can make that, too. But if you want a burger with extra cheese and onions, it’s honestly no big deal. Told you I’d cook you a meal, and if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.” My eyes dropped to her throat as she swallowed, and then my gaze zeroed in on one small mole she had right at that tender, fleshy area at the base of her throat. I pulled my gaze away from where I could see her pulse thumping. “That’s very kind of you.” Her voice was raspy, still quiet. All her earlier confidence had dissipated into the air and damn it, for some reason, I wanted her to get that back. I slid a menu onto the countertop near her before I walked to the refrigerator and took out everything for the burger she first requested. While I was inside, I also grabbed a handful of

salad fixings, because hell…maybe she really liked salads, too. Although I doubted it. Something told me she lived on vegetation because she thought she had to. While she was tall and thin, she didn’t need to diet. When I got back to the work area, Trina was sitting on the stool, her fingertip absentmindedly tapping on the menu and one of her feet bouncing up and down on the lower rung of the stool. In the few seconds I watched her, I could tell that she was singing a song in her head before her lips even began moving. A soft smile graced her lips before she noticed me and jerked her head back. Her smile disappeared and I had to, again, fight the urge to scowl. I set down everything for the salad and reached for a plate, handing that to her as well. “This is for a salad if you want it. Help yourself.” She stared at it and her top lip curled. I looked away before she could see me smile. Somehow, I knew she hated salads.

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

What’s next on your reading list? Discover your next great read! Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.

Sign up now.