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Chapter 1

Lorenzo de Santis wasn’t a nice man. As CFO of DS Corp., America’s biggest defense and protection company, he couldn’t afford to be anything as mediocre as “nice.”

He was driven, ambitious, cold, ruthless, and determined.

Which, in layman terms, meant he was an asshole.

Lorenzo didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought of him. He didn’t give a shit about much, period. In fact, the only thing in the world he did give a shit about was how he could oust his father from his position as CEO of DS Corp.

Standing on the hundredth floor of his downtown Manhattan corner office, in the de Santis Tower, Lorenzo looked out over the New York skyline stretched out beneath him, the buildings like so many supplicants before the throne of an emperor. Not that he was paying much attention to the magnificent view. He was too busy saying no to Ivan Constantin—old friend and head of DS Corp.’s accounts department—and his request that Lorenzo accept Ivan’s daughter as an intern.

“What do you mean no?” Ivan said from behind him.

“I mean, ‘No, I don’t want an intern.’ How else do you want me to say it?”

Lorenzo didn’t bother with interns; he didn’t have the time to babysit eager-puppy new college graduates. And since discovering the traces of some extremely creative accounting, he had even less time or inclination than he normally did. Because that creative accounting wasn’t a matter of mere thousands. It was a matter of millions, and for the continued health of his family’s company, he needed to stop the perpetrator.

Who’d turned out to be Cesare de Santis himself, Lorenzo’s father and DS Corp.’s CEO.

It was a difficult situation, though Lorenzo himself didn’t find it personally difficult. No, he’d been looking for an excuse to shaft the old prick for years, ever since Lorenzo had lost the only two people in the world he cared about.

However, the issue that was currently concerning him was how to get rid of his father without the asshole finding out that Lorenzo was planning on ousting him.

Cesare was canny and just as ruthless as Lorenzo, and Lorenzo had no doubt that if Cesare found out that his oldest son wanted him gone, he would take evasive action. Action that would end up with Lorenzo as the casualty.

Not that Lorenzo was going to let that happen. No way in hell.

“Are you listening to me, Lorenzo?” Ivan sounded exasperated.

“No,” Lorenzo said. “Did you say something important?”

Sunlight glittered off the windows of the skyscrapers and the traffic moving in heavy streams in the streets below. Already the mercury would be climbing, which meant the city was likely to become even more unpleasant than it already was. Stinking of trash and hot asphalt and heaving with sweaty tourists.

Fucking summer. He hated it.

“I asked you to take five minutes to think about it,” Ivan said impatiently.

“I don’t need five minutes.” He’d taken all of two seconds. “And I’ve already thought about it.” Lorenzo put his hands in his pockets and turned around. “The answer is still no.”

Ivan lounged on the deep, black leather armchair opposite Lorenzo’s sleek minimalist, black desk. Ten years older than Lorenzo, he was still lean and handsome, looking much younger than a man in his late forties.

Lorenzo had known him for years, ever since Lorenzo, fresh out of Harvard, had first started in the accounts department and Ivan had been tasked with the one job that nobody wanted—managing the CEO’s oldest son.

Ivan gave a slight frown. “Oh, come on. What’s the big deal? Don’t you need someone to get your coffee and dry cleaning? That kind of thing?”

“I have two secretaries already. I don’t need another.” He gave the older man one of his cold, analytical stares. There was a very good chance Ivan knew about Cesare’s fiddling with the books and because the guy was a good corporate soldier through and through, the likelihood was high that he’d also been covering for his boss. Lorenzo was tempted to bring the subject up with him, but then that would involve showing his hand to Ivan. Not a good idea since Ivan would probably run straight to Cesare with it.

“Go ask Rafe,” Lorenzo added. “He always needs more pretty young things running around after him.”

Rafael was his brother and head of DS Corp.’s PR department, and he had never met a pretty young thing he didn’t like.

But Ivan clearly wasn’t into the idea because his frown deepened. “I was particularly wanting to place Kira with you. She already knows you and she needs a . . . steadying influence in her life. I think you’d be a great example for her.”

Lorenzo said nothing, watching the other man’s face, wondering why Ivan was pushing it.

He hadn’t seen Kira Constantin for years, though he remembered her as a child. A little blonde moppet, causing havoc wherever she went, shrieking and laughing one minute, throwing tantrums and refusing to listen to a word her father said the next. Ivan and Jenny’s discipline had been negligent to say the least, and it had come as no surprise to Lorenzo that she’d grown up into a total party girl, treating college as little more than an extended drinking session.

Even if he hadn’t been wrestling with the problem of his sticky-fingered father, he wouldn’t have wanted a girl like her anywhere near his department. He had high standards for his employees, and Kira Constantin met none of those standards. Hell, she didn’t even come close.

“Why does she need an internship anyway?” Lorenzo asked. “Isn’t she too busy drinking and socializing and going to sorority parties?”

Ivan’s expression twitched. “You know what happened last year. She was involved in that car accident and had to drop out of college because of it. And since I’m not paying for her to go back, she needs something to do.”

Ah, yes. Lorenzo vaguely remembered the accident. Kira had been driving—some over-powered car Ivan had given her that she hadn’t been able to handle—and had totaled it on the New Jersey Turnpike. Hadn’t some people died?

Whatever, he didn’t much care. People died all the time. Besides, that was Ivan’s problem, not his.

He turned back to the window again. “I don’t do favors, Ivan. You know this.”

“Yes, I do know.” Ivan sounded strained. “But I’m not having her hanging around the house doing nothing. Besides, Jenny’s on my back about this one. She wants the internship for Kira as much as I do.”

Of course, Jenny. She was Ivan’s lovely, but demanding wife, who—in Lorenzo’s less-than-humble opinion—led Ivan around by the balls. Really, it was no surprise Kira had turned out so appallingly given how indulged she’d been by both parents.

“What Jenny wants isn’t my problem.” Lorenzo wasn’t thinking about Jenny. He wasn’t thinking about Kira Constantin for that matter, either. He was too busy thinking about how to approach the problem of his father’s skimming money off the top of company profits. “If you want an internship for Kira here,” he went on, watching the glittering stream of traffic in the streets below, “go talk to Dad about it. I don’t have time for babysitting random socialites.”

There was a silence behind him, which he ignored.

The real difficulty was that he didn’t quite have the proof he needed of his father’s activities yet. Once he had, approaching the DS Corp. board was the next logical step. Unfortunately, though, the board were fiercely loyal to his father, and they were going to want hard evidence before they took a vote of no-confidence in Cesare de Santis’s abilities.

“Funny you should mention Cesare,” Ivan said. “Since he was the one who suggested you’d have no problem with taking Kira.”

At the mention of his father’s name, Lorenzo went very still.

Why the hell would his dad want to foist some intern on him? Cesare wasn’t a man who did favors for anyone, and he took no interest at all in human-resource matters. He left that to his management team. So why was he now suggesting to Ivan that Lorenzo could take on his daughter as an intern?

Lorenzo turned around, staring at the other man. “Dad suggested it?” The question came out sharp, but Lorenzo didn’t bother to soften it. He never bothered to soften anything.

Ivan’s expression gave nothing away. “Yes, he thought it would be good for her, especially considering all she’s been through these past six months.”

Somewhere in Lorenzo’s brain, an alarm bell went off.

His father didn’t give a shit about what anyone had been through, he wasn’t that kind of man. His complete failure to take into account anyone else’s needs or feelings other than his own was legendary, so why was he now concerning himself with the tragic experiences of the daughter of one his employees? And suggesting she intern in Lorenzo’s department?

“He knows I don’t take interns,” Lorenzo said slowly. “So why would he suggest that?”

Ivan leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “I mentioned to him that she was thinking about an internship somewhere, and he suggested here. And he suggested you. He thought you wouldn’t have a problem with it.” Ivan paused. “I confess, I didn’t think it would be such a big deal for you.”

The alarm bell in Lorenzo’s head rang a little louder.

Ivan was one of his father’s favorites and always had been, and because of that he was as loyal to his father as they came. And Cesare de Santis was nothing if not manipulative with his favorites if he thought it could advantage him. Especially the head of his accounting department.

A thought whispered inside Lorenzo’s head, insidious.

Perhaps his father had suspicions his oldest son had discovered his creative bookkeeping and was now trying to confirm those suspicions by planting a mole in Lorenzo’s department.

It would be very much something his father would do.

Normally Cesare preferred the practical, straight-up guns blazing approach when it came to problems, but when that problem was his own son? Well, maybe he’d decided to be more subtle about it. Maybe he’d decided to get some information first.

And some vacuous, pretty little intern was the perfect way to go about it.

Lorenzo leaned back against the cold glass behind him, keeping his hands in his pockets, outwardly relaxed. “It’s not a big deal. I just didn’t know Dad was so keen on pushing interns at me.”

Ivan leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands between them. “Look, I understand your concerns. Kira was once . . . a little wild.”

“An unmanageable, headstrong little bitch, you mean?” Lorenzo met the other man’s frown with a cool stare. “Don’t look like that, Ivan. You know that’s exactly what she is.”

“What she used to be,” Ivan corrected. “She’s not like that anymore. The accident changed her. She’s ready to step up to her responsibilities now, and I think it would be good for her to have an example.”

“An example of what?”

“An example of drive and determination to succeed. Of self-control and restraint. A mentor to guide her and show her how to behave in a business environment.” Ivan gave him a small smile. “You, in other words.”

Maybe Ivan was trying to appeal to his vanity. If so, it wasn’t going to work. Lorenzo didn’t have any vanity. He didn’t believe he was all those things. He simply was.

Lorenzo examined the other man’s expression intently, analyzing it. If this was all to do with his father’s machinations, Ivan would be aware of it, no question.

“What makes you think I have time to be anyone’s mentor?” He made the question sound like an idle one, because if this was indeed something to do with his father, then he couldn’t afford to alert the old bastard by making an issue out of this.

Ivan’s expression twitched again. “I’m not asking for her to lead the company, Lorenzo. It’s just an internship. She only needs somewhere to sit and a few mindless tasks, that’s it. Give her to Stacey to manage if you can’t do it.”

Stacey was one of Lorenzo’s secretaries—he had two since he was very, very busy indeed—and she didn’t really have time to manage an intern either. Then again, if his father was planting an informant in Lorenzo’s department, she might have to.

Not that that was essentially a bad thing, since any information an informant passed on could also flow in the other direction.

Anyway, probably giving her to Stacey initially to manage would be for the best. Stacey wouldn’t like it, but then he didn’t pay her exorbitant amounts of money to like it. He paid her exorbitant amounts of money to be at his beck and call whenever he needed her to be. She could give Kira some mundane tasks that would ensure the girl stayed busy and out of his sight, and totally uninformed about Lorenzo’s plans regarding his father. At least until Lorenzo had decided what to do with her.

“So? What do you say?” Ivan prompted. “Both Jenny and I would be very grateful.”

Lorenzo stayed silent a moment longer, drawing it out, measuring the other man’s response.

“I suppose I could arrange something.” Lorenzo kept his voice expressionless. “On the understanding that if she causes any trouble, I’m getting rid of her.”

Ivan’s smile was white. “Excellent. She won’t let you down, I promise.”

Oh, but she would. One way or another, she would.

But it wouldn’t be him she’d let down, not if he had anything to do with it.

* * *

Kira hated waiting. Though over the past six months, she’d gotten used to it. Waiting for people to wake up in the hospital. Waiting for the insurance assessors. Waiting for the police to press charges. Waiting for forgiveness . . .

Waiting for Lorenzo de Santis for over an hour—and she knew it was an hour because that’s what the clock on the wall said—barely registered.

She took a quick scan around the waiting area yet again, trying not to fidget. The long, low, luxurious couches upholstered in white leather were empty. Magazines were stacked neatly on a glass and chrome coffee table in front of her, the thick pile of the charcoal carpet that covered the area outside Lorenzo’s office visible through the tabletop. She supposed she could pick one of those up to read if she got desperate, which might actually happen since she couldn’t even check her phone. She’d forgotten to charge it before she’d left the house, and it was now dead as a doornail in her purse.

Not far away was the imposing buttress of a massive black desk, behind which sat one of Lorenzo’s secretaries like a soldier guarding the ramparts of a castle. A stern-looking woman in her early forties, she’d given Kira a very disapproving once-over when Kira had presented herself for her forthcoming meeting.

The Kira of six months ago would have either laughed and flipped her the bird, or taken her to task for her arrogant attitude, depending on whichever emotion was ruling her at the time.

The Kira she was now, her control over herself ironclad, had murmured a calm thank you and walked sedately over to the waiting area the woman had indicated, sitting herself down with her hands folded in her lap. Projecting nothing but cool professionalism.

A professionalism that she was hopefully still projecting an hour later.

The secretary was not looking at her now. Instead she was typing importantly on her computer and doing a good job of pretending Kira wasn’t there.

Considering the length of time Kira had been there and that various people who’d also been in the waiting area had come and gone during that time, Kira was starting to wonder whether she was really there or not herself.

She looked down at her hands resting on top of the black leather folder that sat in her lap. There was a song playing in her head, and her fingers wanted to tap out the rhythm, and she had a sudden urge to hum along with it.

But no. She wasn’t giving into those impulses, not anymore. She’d spent six months with a therapist learning how to contain and manage them, and she’d done well.

She’d continue to do well.

To drown out the music, she began going over all the things she was supposed to say in this interview. How she was very excited to be given this opportunity and that she was a hard worker. That she had a great attitude and a can-do approach. That she worked well in a group but also on her own with minimal supervision. Her strengths were her determination to do a good job, her ability to take on any task with a smile, no matter how small, and her dependability. Her weaknesses were . . .

No. Better that she concentrate on her strengths. Her weaknesses were too many to mention.

Something slipped in front of her eyes, distracting her. She squinted at the lock of pale hair hanging down over one eye and cursed silently. Was there time to go visit the bathroom and pin the stupid thing back up again? She’d spent hours trying to make sure her hair was sleek looking, not to mention more hours spent fussing around with her makeup. She’d never had a job before, so she hadn’t known what to expect.

What to wear had been an issue, too, though luckily she’d had a few pencil skirts in her wardrobe and at least one decent, plain blouse, plus the kitten heels she’d bought a couple of years back to go with an Audrey Hepburn costume.

She may not feel like a complete professional, but at least she looked the part. Or she hoped.

The lock of hair tickled her nose and she blew it back.

Okay, she probably had time to go to the bathroom and get that mofo pinned back. Certainly if Lorenzo was going to keep her waiting here for the next millennium.

Something churned in her stomach at the thought of him, the same old churning feeling she always got when she thought of Lorenzo. The one that was excitement and nervousness and delicious fear all knotting and unknotting inside her. Tangling and pulling tight, then loosening, only to tangle and pull tight again.

He’d been a regular visitor to her parents’ house, though as a child she hadn’t paid him much attention since she hadn’t been interested in what the adults were doing.

It hadn’t been until she’d been ten years old and supposedly on her best behavior for her parents’ annual garden party, that he’d suddenly become a person of interest to her.

There had been speeches at the party, long ones for a kid like her with no attention span, and her mother had told her she wasn’t allowed to eat anything until the food had been served. Bored and restless and hungry, she knew her parents would hate it if she ruined their party, especially after her latest terrible report card, so she’d tried her best to sit still and keep quiet. But she just . . . forgot.

Her brain had wandered, and she’d gotten up out of her chair, playing a game of chase with herself through the crowds of guests who’d gathered to listen to her father’s speech. Unfortunately, one of the wait staff had tripped over her, sending a tray of champagne glasses crashing down and spilling wine everywhere. One of the wine glasses had hit her, cutting her, making her burst into tears, not so much in pain as with the shock at what she’d done. Tears she couldn’t stop, because once she was in the grip of an emotional storm she could never stop.

So she’d stood there in the middle of a crowd of important guests, wailing loudly, her parents trying to soothe the guests and make things right. Her they simply ignored since they believed very firmly that starving a tantrum of attention was the only way to end it, an approach that had never worked, no matter how often they employed it.

Then a man had approached her. He’d been so tall, impossibly broad, his face all planes and wicked angles, his eyes the dark gray of thunderclouds. And she’d been afraid, thinking he was going to go cold and tight lipped and silent, the way her father always did whenever she did something naughty.

But he didn’t. He’d smiled at her then took her by the hand and led her off the terrace, taking her into the bathroom to put a Band-Aid on her cut. He’d talked to her all the while, asking very matter-of-fact questions like what her favorite TV shows were and what books she’d read. What her friends were like and what her favorite subjects were in school.

His questions had calmed her, soothed the scary press of her emotions. Distracted, she’d stopped crying and asked him what his name was. Lorenzo, he’d said, and she’d laughed because it sounded funny.

He’d laughed, too, then he’d asked her to find him a piece of paper—any piece would do—and when she’d scrambled into the kitchen and found a stack of notepaper, he’d showed her how to fold the perfect paper crane.

It had been an amazing moment for Kira. She’d always been restless and fidgety, unable to sit still, her brain like a piece of thistledown in the wind, blown here and there by her thoughts. But sitting at the kitchen table with Lorenzo, trying hard to fold a piece of paper right, her hands busy, she’d found she was able to concentrate.

Lorenzo de Santis had given her something that day, something that no one else had, not simply kindness to a girl who hadn’t had much of it in her life, but a way to manage herself. A way to distract herself when she couldn’t keep still.

Afterward, whenever he visited her parents’ house, and as a friend of her father’s he did so frequently, Kira always made sure she was in the vicinity, a paper crane in her hand, wanting to show him so he could check she’d done it right.

He always told her she’d folded it perfectly. Always told her she’d done a great job. And she lapped up his praise like a thirsty plant water. There wasn’t much she did well, and his praise was the only praise she ever got.

As she’d gotten older, she’d stopped folding cranes, but her fascination with him didn’t stop with it. No, if anything it became more intense, gradually blossoming into a full-on teenage obsession.

Then one day she’d been on her way to the public library for a school thing with her class, and she’d caught a glimpse of him in Bryant Park. He’d been standing there, clearly waiting for someone, his expression distant. Then quite suddenly, a look of pure joy had unfurled over his face, and she’d been transfixed. By the happiness and warmth and love that had burned so nakedly in his eyes, and by the incandescent smile that had turned his mouth.

She’d wondered what he was looking at, and then a woman had approached him. And he’d taken the woman’s face between his hands, so tenderly, so carefully. Handling her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. Then he’d kissed her with such passion and focused intensity that teenaged Kira had gone red to the roots of her hair simply watching them.

That look on Lorenzo’s face, that kiss, had ignited something in her that day. Had made her understand with sudden, bitter clarity, what it was that she wanted from him.

She wanted that smile. She wanted that passion.

She wanted him to look at her not as a child, but as a woman.

Her obsession had become a crush and for years afterward, whenever Lorenzo came around to the Constantin’s for dinner, she’d try to get his attention. Try to turn herself into the woman he’d looked at with such utter joy.

But she’d only been fourteen. And he was twenty-seven. And eventually her father had packed her off to boarding school.

She hadn’t seen Lorenzo since.

Kira stared at her hands, all those old feelings churning around and making her feel sick. It was stupid to feel this way about him now, especially since it had been years since she’d seen him. Besides, she would have thought that since the accident, she wouldn’t feel such things anymore, or at least not let herself feel them, not when she knew what the consequences of giving into her emotions were.

She was going to have to pretend she didn’t feel any of the things she always associated with Lorenzo de Santis and concentrate hard on making a good impression.

Concentrate, period.

A lot depended on this. If she did a good job here, her father had promised her the money for the little business she wanted to get off the ground. It wasn’t anything major—arts-and-crafts therapy classes to help kids with ADHD and learning difficulties—but it was important to her.

Mainly because she’d been one of those kids.

“Miss Constantin?”

She jerked her head up to find the secretary was looking in her direction. “Yes?”

“Mr. de Santis will see you now.”

Damn. No time to fix her hair, which was a nuisance. Oh well, it couldn’t be helped.

Kira rose to her feet, sliding the offending lock of hair behind her ear as she held tight to the folder in her hand. “Thank you,” she said faintly and turned toward the big double doors of Lorenzo’s office.

Here went nothing.

She approached the doors then paused, angsting about whether she should knock or go right in. Another ridiculous thing to worry about when six months ago she wouldn’t have bothered thinking about it at all. She’d simply have pushed those bastard doors open and barged on through.

But she wasn’t that person anymore, right? She was different now.

Deciding that knocking would be stupid when she’d already been told to go on in, she pushed open one of the doors and stepped into the office.

It was a massive space, the sun from the hot summer day outside shining in through the plate-glass of the huge windows. The office was sleekly minimalist in steel and black: a long desk with nothing on it but a large, exceedingly thin computer screen and an equally thin keyboard and mouse. A black leather executive chair was behind it, a couple of black leather armchairs in front of it. Steel bookshelves laden with books and files stood against one wall, while near the desk was a low, black slab of a table with a simple long leather chair that looked a bit like a sofa with no back.

There was nothing else in the room, no bits of paper anywhere, no bits of clutter. No knickknacks or photographs. In fact, the only object that could be termed art was a vintage looking shotgun mounted on the wall behind his desk and subtly lit like a painting.

But that was it. The room was as stripped back and cold-seeming as the man who stood in front of the windows with his arms folded, facing her.

Her heartbeat thumped in her head, so loud it felt as if she’d gone deaf.

Lorenzo de Santis hadn’t changed a bit. He was still as tall and as wide-shouldered as she remembered. Still wore his perfectly tailored dark suit as if he was a king wearing robes of state, as if he were emperor of the entire universe waiting for the world to bow in homage before him.

His features were still that fierce, compelling arrangement of planes and angles for which handsome was too bland a word; the blade of his nose, his hard, strong jaw with its inky shadow of beard, sharp cheekbones, his eyes a dark, deep charcoal gray. Like thunderclouds. And his mouth, finely carved and somehow both sensual and cruel at the same time.

When she’d been a child, she’d had a book of Greek myths, and even though Zeus in her book had been white haired, with a long white beard, she could imagine Lorenzo as the god of thunder now. He radiated power and a kind of dark charisma, and as she stared at him, listening to that thunder in her own head, she was seized by the weirdest impulse to both get closer and run away in terror at the same time.

“Hello Kira,” Lorenzo said, his voice deep and cold as a lake full of snowmelt.

His gaze met hers and it struck her, with a sudden jolt, that she was wrong. He had changed.

He’d changed utterly.

That gray stare had once had heat to it, like a beam of sunlight she’d wanted to bask in, yet there was nothing warm in it now. His features, too, hadn’t used to be that hard or his mouth so cruel, as if smiling had become a completely foreign concept.

He had become utterly cold, his gaze like a spear of ice. Freezing hearts and icing the blood . . .

What had happened to him? What had gone wrong? Because something had. Something terrible, she was sure.

He’s not your business anymore. Not that he ever was in the first place. You’re here for a job interview, that’s all.

Shivering, Kira sucked in a breath, and tried to pull herself together. Of course, he wasn’t her business anymore. And yes, this was nothing more than a job interview. She wasn’t going to get sucked into her old obsession with him; she couldn’t afford to. It messed with her emotions, made her feel too unstable, and that was not good for her.

That made her feel too much like the old Kira and she couldn’t be the old Kira, not ever again.

She had to stay in control of herself, that was the bottom line.

Steeling herself, she met that icy, thunderous gaze head-on.

Oh Jesus, what the hell did she call him? When she’d been ten, she’d laughed at his name, but calling him Lorenzo now felt . . . disrespectful. So . . . what was appropriate?

Better to be on her best behavior and go for the conservative choice.

She swallowed. “Hello, Mr. de Santis.”

Chapter 2

She was not what Lorenzo was expecting, though quite what he had been expecting, he couldn’t have said. He only knew that the young woman who’d stepped into his office, closing the doors carefully behind her, was not it.

He couldn’t remember exactly the last time he’d seen Kira Constantin. Certainly, he’d seen her as a young teenager, but that had been around the time when he’d first met Katie and he hadn’t paid much attention to anyone when that had been happening.

Kira had been a delicate, porcelain doll as a child, with the kind of white skin that looked as if a strong wind would bruise it and long, silky, platinum blonde hair that most adult women paid hundreds of dollars for in hair salons all over the world. She’d had eyes the deep, intense blue of delphiniums, her stare wide-eyed and innocent. Guileless.

She’d been a fidgety kid, prone to emotional outbursts and temper tantrums that her parents completely ignored, an approach that only seemed to make them worse. He’d had to step in to distract her on a number of occasions, much to his irritation, but since the Constantins didn’t appear to notice that ignoring her only exacerbated her behavior, he’d had to in order to get any peace.

Lorenzo had asked Ivan once, after one of her outbursts, if there was anything the matter with her, because her behavior reminded him of his brother Rafe. But Ivan had simply told him that Kira had been spoiled rotten by her mother, and that giving her attention only fed into it.

Something had never quite rung true about that explanation to Lorenzo, but back then, in love for the first time in his life, he’d decided it wasn’t his problem. He had other, more important things to worry about than the correct discipline for someone else’s child.

Pity it had taken the loss of Katie to show him what a selfish little prick he’d once been. A man who hadn’t thought that controlling his own needs and desires was necessary.

A man who’d been just as unmanageable and headstrong as Kira Constantin had been.

Christ, he had no patience for people like that. Not anymore.

He eyed Kira from his position by the windows.

She wasn’t at all like the pretty, volatile teenage girl that he vaguely remembered. Tall and slender—maybe too slender—and dressed in a navy pencil skirt and a very plain, white button blouse, her platinum hair had been raked back and coiled in a prim little bun on the back of her head. One lock had somehow escaped and was now hanging by her ear.

Her face was almost the same color as her hair, white and with a strained look to it. She looked washed out, the delphinium blue of her eyes like a piece of blue fabric put through the laundry too many times, becoming faded and near to a dirty gray. The lipstick she wore didn’t help, its orangey tint doing her no favors whatsoever.

Even her voice sounded colorless, all faint and uncertain. Hello, Mr. de Santis.

He couldn’t have imagined a more unlikely looking spy.

Yet . . . there was something about her that held his attention. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. As a kid, she’d been in constant movement, a livewire of energy, and it was like that energy was still there. He could almost sense it. An electricity that vibrated through her, that her stiff posture and washed-out appearance couldn’t quite hide.

Letting the silence in the room stretch, he studied her.

When he’d told Ivan the previous day that he wanted to meet with her before she took up her position as an intern, Ivan had readily agreed. Lorenzo had been careful to make it sound like he’d simply wanted an informal, getting-to-know-you chat, but in reality, he’d wanted the meeting to check her out, see if he could confirm his suspicions.

If his father was trying to find out what Lorenzo knew, he’d have better luck asking him straight up than sending in this girl. And if Cesare had been hoping for the honey trap angle, he was going to be sadly disappointed.

Kira Constantin was hardly Mata Hari.

Lorenzo wouldn’t have been interested in any case. He had a lover he called when he needed one—an artist friend called Sian—who was happy to provide a couple of hours of physical pleasure, no strings. He didn’t need this poor, washed-out dishrag.

The silence was getting uncomfortable now—for her.

He didn’t mind it. Silence was useful. It made people say things they ordinarily wouldn’t just to break the awkwardness.

A stain of color appeared on Kira’s high, pale cheekbones.

“S-So,” she said hesitantly. “Do you want me to sit down?”

“Do you want to sit down?”

She stared at him, obviously flustered. “I guess. I mean, yes. I would.”

Strange. Where had this hesitancy come from? Was she nervous? He certainly couldn’t recall her being either. She’d been full of opinions and thoughts, not hesitant in the least about sharing them with anyone who’d listen. Even if the listener hadn’t wanted to hear them.

Not that it mattered to him whether she was nervous or not. He wasn’t here to make her comfortable.

He gestured toward the desk and she moved carefully over to one of the leather armchairs opposite it, wobbling on the black kitten heels she wore. She kept her head down, a black leather folder clutched tightly in one long-fingered hand.

He couldn’t imagine what was in that folder. He already had her whole resume since Ivan had forwarded it to him in another pointless gesture toward the charade. There had been no reason to look at it, so he hadn’t.

Kira sat, smoothing her skirt down and laying the folder carefully in her lap. That loose, pale lock of hair grazed the side of her cheek, nearly touching the line of her delicate jaw

Something kicked inside him, a jolt of sensation he couldn’t quite identify.

Irritated, he ignored it.

“Tell me why you’re here.” He didn’t bother to make it sound anything less like the order it was.

She gave a little shiver, as if the sound of his voice had given her a tiny shock. “Didn’t Dad mention it?”

“Your own words, please.”

“Oh . . . sure.” Her delicate fingers had started tapping in a fast rhythm on her folder, an unconscious movement he thought, because as she looked down at her hands, the tapping stopped abruptly. “I’m here to take up an internship in your department that Dad organized for me.” Her voice was soft, measured. “But Dad said you wanted to interview me first, so here I am.” As she spoke, those delicate fingers quivered, as if they wanted to move again and she was holding them back.

He found that fascinating, though why he couldn’t have said.

What he should be doing was making her tell him her real reason for being here—if she was indeed the spy he suspected she was. It wouldn’t take much in the way of pressure to make her crack, certainly not given how nervous and hesitant she already was.

Then again, that could be an act.

He moved closer to her chair, watching her.

Her eyes widened as he approached, her gaze flicking down the length of his body before returning to his face. Not a sexual look, he didn’t think. More as if he were a dangerous animal she wasn’t sure of.

Good. Keep her thinking that.

“Yes, I did want to interview you first,” he murmured, stopping not far from her chair. “Tell me why I should take you on.”

She gave a tiny nod as if this was a question she’d expected. “Okay, so while I was at Brown, I majored in business and entrepreneurship. I’m very keen to have some practical experience to add to what I learned at college.” Her voice was firmer this time, as if this was a script she’d learned and repeated many times.

Coached by Ivan no doubt.

“I’m a hard worker,” she continued. “I’m also reliable, punctual. And I’m extremely willing to learn.”

He circled around behind her as she went on, not listening. Because it didn’t matter what her strengths were. He wanted to know her weaknesses. They could be used, could be exploited.

Kira continued talking, but he wasn’t paying attention, his gaze falling to her exposed nape. She had a long, elegant neck, pale and slender, and some blonde wisps of hair had escaped from the bun on top of her head, clustering there like down.

Fragile . . .

All of her seemed fragile. Like she was made out of fine bone china and one blow would shatter her completely.

Something coiled in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t immediately identify. Was it sympathy? He didn’t think so. He didn’t feel things like that anymore, not since Katie had died. And anyway, what would he feel sympathetic toward her about? Her uncertainty? Her nervousness? No, he didn’t give a shit about that. In fact, she’d better get used to feelings that were unpleasant since life was full of them. He wasn’t here to sugarcoat them or coddle her the way colleges did with their students these days.

He wanted to feed her misinformation, which she could then feed back to Cesare. Hell, perhaps that might be the way to get the proof he needed of his father’s guilt.

Apparently, his father was very good at covering his tracks. The prick.

Lorenzo’s gaze fell once again to the vulnerable back of Kira’s neck, to the wispy locks of hair there, curling slightly from the heat of her body.

Another strange sensation went through him. Another kick. Another jolt. The inexplicable need to touch one of those delicate wisps of hair, to curl it around his finger, maybe pull it gently. Would she make a sound if he did? Would she gasp?

What the fuck are you thinking that for?

He went very still, momentarily stunned as a very distinct wave of heat washed over him. An unmistakable heat. And he realized that she’d stopped speaking, and that given the quality of the silence, she’d been quiet for longer than a couple of moments.

While he’d been standing there staring at the back of her neck.

“Is . . . that okay?” Her shoulders hunched very slightly, as if she’d been able to feel the weight of his stare. “Do you want to hear any more?”

Lorenzo turned and paced back to the windows, keeping his back to her, detaching himself from the inappropriate rush of sexual attraction the way he did with all unwanted emotions.

He couldn’t figure out where it had come from or why he should feel it for this pale, colorless woman. She was Ivan’s daughter for Christ’s sake, and regardless of what she was like now, he despised people who did whatever they wanted without thought to the consequences. As well he knew, since he’d been one of those people.

Perhaps it was only because he hadn’t visited Sian for a while. Maybe he should give her a call tonight after work, see if she was available.

“No,” he said after a moment. “I don’t need to hear anymore.” He turned around, pinning her with his gaze. “It all sounds good, Kira, but that’s not what I’ve heard about you from different sources.”

Color deepened on her cheekbones, making her eyes look bluer all of a sudden, the intense delphinium he remembered. “What sources?”

The question held a sharp edge. He ignored it. “I heard that you . . . didn’t take your studies very seriously, let’s say.”

The flush on her cheeks became scarlet and she looked down at her lap, where her fingers were now pressing hard against the black leather of her folder, the tips white. “Oh, yes. That.”

He waited, watching her. Was she going to admit to it? If she’d been an intern he’d been serious about taking on, he would have been grilling her much harder about her behavior. Then again, no he wouldn’t. Because he wouldn’t be taking her on as a serious intern, period.

“I didn’t get the grades I should have, no.” Her voice was very quiet. “But, I learned a . . . hard lesson not long ago and afterwards, I realized I needed to change.” She lifted her head, meeting his gaze very deliberately. “Please know that I’m not that person anymore. All I’m looking for is a second chance.”

He knew the lesson she’d learned, and if he’d been a warmer, kinder man, he might have touched on it, told her he was sorry, maybe even shared the fact that he knew what loss was like. That everyone deserved a second chance.

But he was none of those things, and his losses were no one’s but his to know, and as for second chances . . . Well, he didn’t deserve one, so why should she?

So all he said was “You better not be. I have high standards for those who work with me and you’re no exception. I don’t play favorites, Kira. And if you think you’ll have an easier time of it just because you’re Ivan’s daughter, you can think again.”

Something flashed in her eyes, an electric spark of what could have been annoyance, but it was gone before he could tell for sure. “I understand,” she said flatly.

“Be sure that you do. I expect you to be on time, every day. I expect you to do whatever you are told, no argument. We work long hours here, and I expect you to do the same. There will no time for your friends or parties, or whatever the hell it is you do with yourself after hours.”

“I know what’s expected, Mr. de Santis. Believe me, I know.” There was a husky note in her voice this time, a slight rasp of something that caught at him, that pulled him. Was it defiance? Annoyance? Irritation?

Jesus, why did he even care? He didn’t like it when he encountered opposition, so why that small spark in her eyes make him feel . . . intrigued, was anyone’s guess.

“Do you?” he inquired coldly. “Then you’ll also know that I don’t tolerate insubordination. I don’t like my employees arguing with me, do you understand? I make the decisions, I make the rules. That’s how it works here.”

Her mouth had firmed and he found himself staring at the shape of it because it was quite exquisite, all full and soft and pouty, despite the unflattering shade of lipstick she’d painted over the top of it. Perhaps she was going to say something ill-advised?

He realized he was almost hoping for it.

But she didn’t. Instead she looked back down at the folder in her hand once more. “Of course.” The husky, defiant note had gone from her voice, the words sounding toneless.

He didn’t like that, though why, he didn’t quite know. Certainly, he’d preferred her to be biddable and quiet, rather than having his time taken up dealing with the dramatic outbursts he remembered from when she was a child.

That loose lock of hair by her ear had slid forward and was now hanging over one eyebrow, the sunlight coming through the windows behind it making it gleam like a stripe of fresh snow. Beautiful.

His gaze drifted down before he could help himself, following the lock of hair to her elegant neck, then down to the hollow of her throat. She’d left the top button of her blouse undone and the second button looked like it was coming out too, halfway out of the buttonhole. She breathed in, her breasts pressing against the cotton, the button straining . . .

She was so pale. A white statue carved out of marble. Sleeping Beauty waiting for a kiss. Yet he could sense that energy inside her, fierce and hot, like a fire burning behind on the other side of a closed door.

What would happen if he opened that door? If he touched her and let the fire out? Would she remain pale? Or would she blush like a rose? Would the color of her eyes deepen? Would she burn . . . ?

But no. He wasn’t going to do any of that. She might have absolutely no self-control, but he did and he kept his desires firmly in check these days. And besides, aside from the fact that she was potentially a spy for his father and his soon-to-be-intern, she was also pretty much the opposite of women he was usually sexually attracted to.

He liked his beauties very much awake, rather than sleeping. He liked them confident, assured, and impeccably turned out. Not fragile and uncertain, with loose locks of hair and gaping buttons.

Not as if all that was needed was one touch to make the fire burn high.

Lorenzo turned back to the view of Manhattan, ignoring the hot rush of blood in his veins, sliding his hands into his pockets and clenching them into fists.

Tonight. He would call Sian tonight.

“You can go now,” he ordered flatly.

* * *

It took Kira a second to process the fact that she’d been dismissed. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, the sound of it echoing so loudly through her head she could barely hear what he’d said.

She was still recovering from the way he’d stalked around her, standing right behind her, making her feel like nothing so much as a goat tethered to a stake as bait for a hungry tiger.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off her, not once, and she knew because she’d felt the weight of his stare like a pressure, as if someone was pressing steadily and firmly down on the back of her neck.

Once, she’d loved that attention. Loved his smile and the warm rush of happiness it had given her, as she’d handed him another folded paper crane and he’d told her she’d done well.

But it hadn’t been like that now. He hadn’t smiled, and she didn’t feel either warm or happy. His attention made her feel like she was freezing and suffocating at the same time. As if she was being judged and found wanting.

Remind you of anyone?

Yeah, her father and the terrible interviews he used to conduct, where he’d call her into his office to discuss her latest report card, her latest failure. His expression had always been cold, unsmiling, and stern with disapproval . . .

Kira, her gut churning with old memories, had barely paid any attention to what she’d been saying in Lorenzo’s office, the words just tumbling out of her mouth, afraid of what it was that she’d done to earn that terrible judgment.

No need to wonder, though. She knew. Deep down inside, she knew.

He must have heard about the car accident and her role in it.

The thought made her feel sick, because even now she couldn’t shake the need gathering inside her. The need for his smile and the patience he’d once shown her as a child. The need for some kindness and a bit of care.

But there was no chance of that, not now.

She’d disappointed him the way she’d disappointed everyone else in her goddamn life.

Then, as if to make things worse, she’d become very conscious of how close he’d been standing, and how she’d been able to smell his aftershave, a dark, sensual, sandalwood and musk combination. The scent had made her mouth go bone dry and heat turn over inside her.

The contrast between his cold stare and the warmth of his scent had confused her, and it had been a relief when he’d suddenly turned and stalked back to the windows. The way he moved, fluid and predatory, made him seem like that tiger she’d imagined, and she hadn’t been able to drag her gaze away from him.

She took a calming breath, staring at his tall, broad figure, starkly outlined against the brilliant blue of the sky beyond the glass.

So . . . that was it? Had she screwed this up the way she screwed everything up?

Her father had told her that she was to use this interview to make a good impression and that it was essential she do so. Because she was going to have to gain Lorenzo’s trust. Without his trust, he wouldn’t let down his guard and she wouldn’t be able to get the information her father wanted. The information that would prove Lorenzo was moving against his own father.

God, she had to get this right, otherwise she wouldn’t be getting any money and without money she wouldn’t be able to set up those classes that she’d been planning on.

It had been something she’d decided on after the accident, during those long hours spent waiting at the hospital while her friends had been in surgery.

She’d reflected on her life and all the mistakes she’d made. The selfish anger that had fueled her as a teenager and those last few years of college. Her frustration with her father’s insistence that she get a degree, even though she didn’t have the academic ability. But she’d gone to college anyway, because she just couldn’t bring herself to refuse and disappoint him, even though everything she’d done in her life had disappointed him.

It was as if she’d had this burning need to set herself up for failure, every goddamn time.

And fail she had. Every exam she’d taken, even though she’d tried, even though she’d worked so hard to sit still and concentrate, to study and get good grades the way her friends all seemed to do. But trying hadn’t made any difference. It never did.

It was easier to be the disappointment they’d always thought her and blame everything on her ADHD.

At least until the accident had happened and she’d been given one hell of a wake-up call.

She’d understood then that being a disappointment didn’t absolve her from responsibility, neither did her condition. It had been her decision to get into her car and drive when she’d been so damn angry she hadn’t been able to concentrate, no one else’s. And if she wanted to make up for the lives that were lost, then it was also her responsibility to do so.

She did want to make up for those lives, she did want to atone. She wanted to take responsibility for what she’d done, and part of that was her plan to help the kids who’d had the same difficulties she had.

It had been Lorenzo, oddly enough, who’d given her the idea, way back when she’d been ten and he’d showed her how to make that paper crane. Keeping her hands occupied had calmed her mind, given her a way to manage herself, and so she’d expanded her original origami idea to include arts and crafts in general.

If it had helped her, then maybe it would help other kids, too.

Kira swallowed, her mouth dry, wanting to say something, retrieve the situation somehow, because she knew she’d screwed up, she knew it.

But what could she say? He’d dismissed her, and pushing would have been what the old Kira would have done.

She wasn’t that woman now. She’d never be that woman ever again.

So she stayed silent, moving over to the desk and placing her folder carefully on the top of it.

Then she turned and did exactly what he’d told her to do.

She went.

Chapter 3

Lorenzo grabbed the expensive bottle of his favorite single malt, fifty-year-old Macallan, and splashed some of the amber liquid into a cut-crystal tumbler. Then he picked up the tumbler and walked restlessly over to the edge of the terrace on the top floor of his newly renovated Fifth Avenue townhouse. The view was directly over Central Park, and even though he loathed the heat and the waves of tourists that tended to flood the place over summer, he did like looking out over trees and green spaces.

It reminded him of the summers he’d spent at the family ranch out in Wyoming, back when he’d been a kid. He and his youngest brother Xavier had been the ones who’d enjoyed the rough physicality and wide-open spaces of the ranch, his sister and his other brother, Rafe, not so much.

Once, he’d wanted to take over his mother’s family’s ranch himself, use it as a vacation bolthole when big city life got too much. But Xavier had beaten him to it. His little brother now owned the ranch and had retreated there permanently, along with his fiancé Mia, a pretty little thing Xavier had rescued from Manhattan’s mean streets.

It had bothered Lorenzo at first, or more aptly, irritated the hell out of him. He didn’t get along with his youngest brother, didn’t approve of his careless, reckless life or his whole give-no-shits attitude. But this thing with his father had since consumed most of that petty annoyance.

Christ, if he’d wanted a bolthole for himself, he could buy one. Not that he had any time in his life for vacations. Most certainly not now.

Lorenzo leaned against the stone parapet that bounded the terrace, looking out over the deep green of the park. Dusk was settling in, the lights coming on, and the heat of the day lingered in the stone he leaned on. Ordinarily, he would have found it peaceful, but not tonight.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Kira Constantin. About how pale and colorless she’d been in his office. How quiet and uncertain she’d seemed. And how obediently she’d left, right when he’d told her to.

About the restless energy hidden beneath all that quietness and uncertainty.

He remembered that energy. She’d had it as a kid and as the pretty, wide-eyed teenager she’d once been. All big blue eyes and sulky mouth, filling every room she was in with her special brand of vibrant electricity. It had made her difficult to be around, like sharing the space with a furiously excited puppy who kept jumping up on everything and wouldn’t stop barking.

There had been dinners he’d had at the Constantin’s where Kira had dominated the conversation, purely by dint of talking nonstop and then interrupting other people who tried to get a word in edgewise. Her mother would always talk over the top of her to drown her out, while Ivan would get tight-lipped and silently furious, the end result always being a meltdown with Kira rushing from the room in floods of tears.

“Teenagers,” Ivan would say, rolling his eyes in exasperation and trying to hide his anger at Kira’s behavior, explaining that she was just a spoiled brat who liked to get her way.

Lorenzo had only shrugged. He hadn’t been interested in Kira Constantin’s behavior. He hadn’t been interested in much beyond himself, period.

Being in love had been the only thing he’d cared about

You should have known where that would lead.

Lorenzo took a sip of his scotch to drown out that particular thought, the smooth liquid running down his throat and settling warmly in his gut. It should have eased the unsettled feeling inside him, but it didn’t. For some reason his brain kept returning to the soft curls clustering at Kira’s nape, and the way the blouse she wore had pulled across the soft curve of her breasts. To the restless energy that burned beneath her skin, and the question of what would happen if he touched her. Whether she’d remain as pale and quiet as she’d been when she’d walked in or whether she’d wake to life . . .

You could be the one to wake her.

He gritted his teeth. No, he wasn’t waking anyone and he knew better than to indulge that particular desire. Or rather, he had other ways of satisfying it.

Reaching into the pocket of his pants for his phone, he pulled it out and glanced down at the screen, scrolling through his contact list until he found Sian’s number. Then he pressed the call button, lifting the phone to his ear.

She answered within a couple of rings, her familiar cool voice easing the heat inside him. “Hi, Lorenzo. Been a while.”

“Yes, I’ve been busy.” He stared out over the park. “You got some time free tonight?”

Sian never protested about how busy he was and never made a fuss about how often he saw her. She had her own life and it was nearly as busy as his. “Not sure. I’ve got a gallery opening and then a party afterwards.”

“What about after the party?”

“I guess so. Hey, why not come to the party with me? It’s not a big deal, a kind of after-show thing. You could come to the gallery, too, if you like.”

For a second he contemplated the idea. He’d been to one of Sian’s openings before and it was a pleasant way to spend an evening, drinking wine and talking and looking at art. The after-party probably would be a trial, since he didn’t much like parties, but maybe it would be worth it if he got to spend the night in her bed.

Not that Sian required him to do all that in return for sex.

She knew exactly what their arrangement was and got as much out of it as he did.

“I don’t think so.” He took another sip of the scotch. “I’ve got too much on my mind for any pointless socializing.”

Sian gave a soft laugh. “Pointless, huh? Well, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I might not be in till late and it’s possible I won’t be in the mood for anything else.”

Sian is not what you want anyway.

He drained the scotch in his glass and shoved the thought from his head. “Fine. Another time.” He pressed the disconnect button without saying good-bye, which was rude of him, but too bad. Sian could deal.

Well, if he couldn’t use some sex to get rid of this unsettled feeling, then he’d probably be better served thinking about work, his father and his creative bookkeeping in particular.

Lorenzo turned and leaned back against the parapet. The only other person he’d told about his suspicions was his half-brother, Nero. Nero had once been a recluse, but since he’d met a red-headed English woman, apparently everything had changed. Though he still handled all things digital at DS Corp., and still despised Cesare almost as much as Lorenzo did. Nero had been pleased when Lorenzo had come to him with his suspicions, volunteering to hunt for any digital evidence Lorenzo might need, a search that had so far proved fruitless.

Scrolling through his contact list for Nero’s number, Lorenzo flicked him a quick text, asking him if he’d had any luck. His brother’s reply was pretty much instantaneous. Not yet.

Dammit.

Taking his empty tumbler back to the low table on the terrace not far from him, Lorenzo poured himself another drink.

That settled it in many ways, not that he was vacillating about his decision. It only confirmed that having Kira around to potentially be a backup when it came to finding evidence against Cesare was a good idea.

And he had to find that evidence. His mother’s death demanded it.

Taking his second drink back to the parapet once more, Lorenzo was staring out over the park again, when his phone buzzed. He looked down at the screen. Rafe, his middle brother.

For a long moment, he stared at the buzzing phone, not bothering to answer.

Rafe was deeply loyal to their father for no good reason that Lorenzo could see, and that was why he hadn’t told him of his suspicions. In fact, that had been the reason he’d been ignoring him totally for the past few weeks now.

Maybe that’s why Rafe was calling him, to ask him what the fuck was going on?

Lorenzo lifted his gaze from the phone and took another sip of scotch.

And he let it ring.

* * *

Kira opened her closet and stared at the clothes hanging on the rails in front of her. It was 6 A.M. and she felt like death, but she was determined not to be late.

She’d spent the whole of the previous day waiting for the ax to fall, for Lorenzo de Santis or one of his secretaries to call her to tell her she would no longer be needed as an intern. For her father to call her into his study when she’d gotten home that evening to tell her how disappointed he was that she’d screwed up the interview. Not that being told how disappointing she was, was anything new. She’d just tried to never let it matter before.

But her cell remained uncalled and the only question her father asked her was “how did the interview with Lorenzo go?” Fine, she’d told him. “I think I made a good impression.” “About time,” he’d replied and went on with doing his crossword.

It should have been a relief and yet she didn’t feel relieved. She felt almost . . . scared. Meeting Lorenzo again had been shocking, especially considering how different he was from the man she’d once been obsessed with, but what had bothered her most was how badly the weight of his judgment had affected her.

He doesn’t matter. Only getting the information Dad wants does.

Yes, that was true, that’s what she had to focus on. Besides, she wasn’t ten-years-old anymore and she’d spent the last six months after the accident learning how to manage herself. She was doing pretty well. Certainly, well enough not to let cold-eyed Lorenzo de Santis get to her, and she couldn’t allow that. Not if she wanted to get her kids’ classes off the ground.

Pushing aside a swath of brightly colored minidresses, Kira searched for the meager store of muted professional clothing she had at the back of the closet somewhere. She tugged aside a white bandage dress and finally found what she’d been looking for—the plain black Audrey Hepburn dress she’d bought to go with the kitten heels.

She wanted to make an effort today, and more than she had the day before, especially since she had definite ground to cover. Looking professional and pulled together was a must. It would be her armor against temptation. Remind her of what she was supposed to be doing and the changes she’d made in her life.

He might even like it.

A shiver went down her spine no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.

No, she was not going to think about him again, and certainly not in that way. Sex was something else that played havoc with her emotions, and if she wanted to stay in control, she was going to have to steer clear of that as well.

Not that she was attracted to him. Not in any way.

Kira gritted her teeth and reached for the dress, pulling it off its hanger.

Focus, that’s what she had to do, keep her brain on track. And if she really needed something to focus on then she should be thinking of Melissa and Sharon. And of Aisha still in the hospital, entering month seven of her coma.

Now that was some motivation.

Kira laid the dress out on the bed, then stepped into the shower, setting it to cold in the hope of feeling slightly more awake. Six A.M. was not her happy place.

Ten minutes later, wrapped in a towel, she went over to her dresser and pulled open the top drawer, where she kept her special lingerie, because today she needed something more than an Audrey Hepburn dress to keep her on the straight and narrow.

Sorting through the piles of carefully folded silk and satin and lace, she found what she was looking for. It was a simple black bra that was saved from complete plainness by the web of delicate jet beads sewn into the black lace, making the fabric cupping her breasts look like it was shimmering. There was a black thong that went with it, also beaded to match the bra.

Making lingerie was a secret and private pleasure she’d begun as a teenager, and she’d made both pieces herself in the aftermath of the accident, desperate for something to occupy her mind that wasn’t the crushing weight of guilt. Beading and sewing such delicate fabric kept her hands busy and gave her something for her brain to focus on.

She was also good at it, which had been somewhat of a revelation since there weren’t many things she was actually good at.

Of course, being good at making lingerie wouldn’t ever erase her sorry academic record or make her parents magically proud of her, but that didn’t stop her from doing it.

These days she’d probably made enough pieces to stock an entire department store.

Dropping her towel, she stepped carefully into the thong then fastened the bra. The beading pressed against her skin, not enough to be uncomfortable, but enough that she knew it was there. A subtle reminder of the importance of focus.

She took an hour to pull on the rest of her clothes and deal with her hair, this time making sure it was all coiled on top of her head, pinned there and sprayed with enough hairspray to set concrete. Then she spent a painstaking twenty minutes on the “natural makeup” look, which honestly took her longer than the old Kira’s party-girl look of glitter shadow and bright red raspberry lipstick.

Seven o’clock and she was nearly ready, standing in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, giving herself a critical once-over. The black Audrey dress was much better and with her hair pinned severely back and a plain white cashmere cardigan thrown over the top, it encapsulated nicely the professional look she was going for.

Yes, professional and most important of all, in control.

She could do this and she would. She would get the information for her father, fulfill the mission he’d given her. This would be one time she wouldn’t let him down. And then she’d get the money she needed for her classes, her way of atoning for the deaths of her friends.

She would not screw it up, not this time.

Frowning, she stared at herself a moment longer. Then, following an impulse she didn’t quite understand since she was supposed to be putting on armor not taking it off, she scrubbed off the nude coral lipstick she’d been wearing and put on her favorite bright raspberry shade. It was too bright, probably, but it made her less washed out.

Grabbing her purse, Kira left the bedroom, going quietly downstairs.

After the accident, she’d come back home to live with her parents in their Greenwich Village townhouse, and she planned to stay at least until she found herself a job and was able to pay for her own accommodation. It wasn’t comfortable living with their silent judgment of her 24/7, but there wasn’t much she could do about it until this little mission for her father was over.

Deciding not to bother with breakfast since she was already feeling sick with nerves at what would be waiting for her at DS Corp. Tower, Kira let herself out of the house and walked to the subway station.

Her father had a car and a driver, and she could have used those, but she didn’t like being in cars these days. They made her nervous and anyway, she could use the time to calm herself the hell down.

As the subway rattled along through the stuffy heat of the tunnels, she checked her phone just to make sure she hadn’t missed anything from Lorenzo, but there was nothing. Her inbox remained empty.

She got off the subway in Lower Manhattan and stopped at a Starbucks for an espresso, which she downed in seconds flat, desperate for a caffeine hit. Then she made her way to the entrance of DS Corp. Tower, bracing herself for security at the doors to turn her back for not being authorized.

Much to her surprise however, the guards on the desk waved her through to the elevator that lead to Lorenzo’s floor when she gave her name, which obviously meant they were expecting her.

The churning, nervous feeling in her stomach grew.

So she was going to do this thing. She was going to be Lorenzo de Santis’s intern, gain his trust, and then pass on any information that “might be of interest” to her father. Not that her father had been clear exactly about what “of interest” meant, only that she’d know it when she heard it. “Especially anything to do with Mr. de Santis senior,” her father had added, again not being very clear about what “anything” was.

A problem when she didn’t do well with vagueness. She tended to work better when she had well-defined tasks and easy-to-follow instructions, with time limits to keep her on track. Basically the opposite of the orders her father had given her.

Oh well, Ivan had never managed to figure that out about her, and hated it when she bugged him to clarify things, so it looked like she was stuck with vagueness.

Great.

She leaned against the elevator wall, taking a few deep breaths to steady herself.

Then the elevator pinged, the doors sweeping open and she stepped out into the waiting area on Lorenzo’s floor, her heartbeat suddenly going triple-time, because there was no mistaking the tall figure standing next to his secretary’s desk.

He was in another of those impeccable suits, dark blue with a very thin pinstripe and another crisp, white business shirt. His tie today was deep crimson, a shocking splash of vibrant color against the white and for some reason, she couldn’t stop looking at it. Red seemed wrong for the icy man who’d conducted her interview.

But not for the man you saw in Bryant Park, remember?

She hadn’t thought about that in years, but the memory of the smile that had curved his beautiful mouth and the warmth that had made his thundercloud eyes go from dark gray to brilliant silver hit her again. Hard.

Oh yes, and not forgetting the woman who’d flung herself into his arms.

She’d never felt jealousy until that moment.

Lorenzo straightened at the sound of the elevator doors and glanced in her direction, his intense stare pinning her to the spot.

She sucked in a breath, the look he gave her going through her like a sword blade. At the same time, an instinctive restlessness kicked inside her, wondering what he’d do if she lifted her chin and gave him attitude.

Settle the hell down. Control, remember?

Kira forced her mouth into a smile. “Good morning,” she said, and excellent, she didn’t sound as breathy and uncertain as she had yesterday. Luckily, he couldn’t know that the coffee was sitting acidly in her stomach and her palms felt sweaty.

Lorenzo’s gaze swept over her like cold rain, the expression on his face unreadable. “Leave your purse with Stacey.” His voice was dark, icy. “Then go down and get us both coffees. Mine’s an espresso, two sugars, and Stacey prefers a double trim latte with no sugar. Be back in ten minutes.”

Kira blinked rapidly, her brain still trying to catch up. “But the line in Starbucks—”

“Tell them who it’s for and they’ll have it ready in five. Go now.” He was already turning toward his office,

Stacey raised an eyebrow and held out her hand. “Your purse?”

Go now . . .

Kira swallowed, handed Stacey her purse, and went.

The line was insane by the time she got back to the Starbucks, but she gritted her teeth, straightened her back, and walked to the front of it, ignoring the annoyed looks as she told the staff she needed coffees stat for Mr. de Santis.

Exactly as Lorenzo had said, the staff made them in five minutes and then she was back in the elevator and on her way up to the 100th floor. The restless part of her wanted to dawdle a little, to be slightly longer than ten minutes just to see what he’d do, but she shoved the impulse away.

God, she wasn’t going to mess things up on her first day, she absolutely refused.

Stacey was sitting behind her desk when Kira got back, not even looking up as Kira put the coffee down on it.

“Uh, shall I take his through?” Kira waved the espresso in the direction of Lorenzo’s office.

“Yes, he’s expecting you,” Stacey said, keeping her gaze on her computer screen.

Kira nodded and turned toward his office.

Okay. She could do this. She could.

As she’d done the day before, she didn’t knock, pushing open the door to his office and stepping inside.

Lorenzo was again over by the windows, this time talking on his phone. He gave her one searing glance before he gestured for her to put the coffee down on his desk, then he turned his attention back out the window again, still talking.

Kira moved over to the desk and put the espresso down where he’d indicated then turned to leave.

Lorenzo’s arm came out in a “stop” gesture and when she glanced at him, it was to find his intense charcoal gaze on her.

She froze, the breath catching in her throat.

He pointed imperiously to the chair opposite his desk, his meaning clear.

Okay, so he wanted her to stay.

Her heart thumping, Kira nodded and perched on the edge of the seat she’d sat down on the day before. Her shoulders felt tight so she tried to relax them, because if she was this tense the whole day, she’d be exhausted by the end of it.

Lorenzo had turned back to the windows again, still talking. He had one hand in the pocket of his perfectly tailored suit pants, the other holding the phone, the deep sound of his voice like the cold wash of the ocean.

Kira shivered and tried to concentrate on something else, but his office was so extremely minimalist, there was nothing else to look at. Only that sleek black desk with nothing on it but his computer screen, keyboard, and mouse. The bookcase that stood against one wall was bare of anything personal, containing only what looked like legal texts and file boxes. The walls were bare, too, except for that gun on the wall behind the desk.

She knew the de Santis origins—gunmakers from Italy who’d emigrated to Wyoming—and clearly that gun had significance. What was it?

Her mind began to wander, filling her with the urge to go behind the desk and take that gun from the wall, see if it was loaded. See how heavy it was and what the metal felt like if she touched it.

Yeah, and she knew exactly what Lorenzo would think of her if she did that.

Jaw tight, she forced her busy brain to be still, trying to find something else for it to focus on. But there was nothing else of any interest in the room.

Nothing but him.

She turned toward him again, unable to help herself. He was tall, wide-shouldered, rangy, his body broadcasting lean, hard strength. A dangerous edge.

He was like that gun on the wall. Beautifully made yet deadly.

Her gaze roamed over him in sudden fascination. Had he always had that dangerous edge or was this something new? He’d certainly never been this cold, she knew that for certain. Had something happened to him that had changed him? And if so, what was it?

Don’t. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about him, remember?

Kira tore her gaze away for the second time, looking down at her hands, studying them fiercely instead of studying him. Refusing to give in to the pull of her old obsession.

Restlessness was filling her though, making her want to get up and move, her brain beginning its inevitable spin around and around. Yes, she’d gotten used to waiting, but she still hated it. And now a thousand and one thoughts were crowding in her head, pulling her away from the very important things she should be focusing on.

God, she wished there was something she could do with her hands. If she was at home, she’d get out a needle and some silk, and a bit of lace. Start stitching. But of course she wasn’t at home. She was sitting in his office waiting. Again.

You can do this. You have to.

And she would. She’d start by not thinking obsessively about Lorenzo de Santis.

She blinked, suddenly realizing that the office had fallen silent. And when she looked up, she found Lorenzo’s hard gaze on her.

Chapter 4

Kira looked very contained, sitting there on the black leather chair with her feet together and her hands clasped in her lap. Today she was in a black dress with a little white cardigan over the top, no jewelry. Austere looking, especially with all that platinum hair scraped back and coiled neatly on the back of her head—no rogue locks dangling anywhere this time.

But that bright pop of lipstick—nothing like the terrible shade she’d been wearing the day before—was definitely not austere. Not in any way. It drew attention to her alabaster skin, to the soft, pouty shape of her mouth, and made the blue of her eyes seem even more intense.

Yes, Kira looked contained, but he knew she wasn’t. He could sense that fierce energy inside her, in stark contrast to her stillness, vibrating and humming though her slender body. Making him think of a wild creature straining at a leash, desperate to get free.

It made him want to go over to her, put his hands on either side of that chair and lean over her, look down into the deep blue of her eyes, take a taste of that bright red mouth, release her from her containment . . .

Christ. Why was he thinking that? Quite apart from the dangers of self-indulgence and the fact that Kira was the daughter of a friend, she was also his intern. And he didn’t involve himself with his staff, not ever.

Dammit, why hadn’t he made the effort and gone to Sian’s party with her? They would have gone back to her place and he would have gotten himself laid and then this pale, strangely fascinating little creature wouldn’t be so much of a goddamn problem.

But he hadn’t. Instead he’d spent the night in his study working, because that had been more productive than lying in bed with his mind returning again and again to those soft curls at Kira Constantin’s nape, and her half-undone blouse, the need he had to touch her, wake her up . . .

Resisting the urge to pace restlessly in front of the window, Lorenzo pocketed his phone and strode over to his desk, pulling out his chair and sitting down.

Kira gave him a tentative smile. “You wanted to see me?”

He reached for the coffee she’d brought him, took a sip to make sure she’d got his order right, then leaned back in his chair.

He’d already decided how he was going to handle her. First, he needed to find out whether she was, in fact, passing on information to his father, but he had to do so in such a way so as not to draw attention. Such as not feeding her sensitive information the day she started. No, he had to treat her the way he would any other intern for the first week or so, make her think she was slowly gaining his trust, that she was doing well. Then maybe he’d give her small crumbs of something useful, warn her that it was sensitive and had to remain confidential, and then see what she did with it. He had ways and means of finding out whether it got back to his father or not, so he’d know soon enough whether his suspicions turned out to be true.

And if they were . . . Well, he’d had other plans for that.

He didn’t smile back. “Today you’ll be with Stacey. She’s got a list of tasks that should keep you busy for the remainder of the day. In fact, they’ll probably keep you busy for the rest of the week. You’ll also be getting passwords and swipe cards—”

“But, I thought I’d be working with you?”

It took Lorenzo at least a full five seconds to realize that the reason he’d stopped was because she’d interrupted him. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

He stared at her, not saying a word.

She flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” The faint husky edge he’d heard in her voice the day before was back. And it was just as distracting. “I . . . expected to be working personally with you.”

Something shivered along his nerve-endings, a kind of satisfaction at the faint note of disappointment in the words.

He ignored it. “No. You will not be working with me this week. And if you continue to interrupt, you might not be working with me at all.”

A spark of blue fire leapt briefly in her eyes, and it looked like she was going to say something hot and angry and extremely ill-advised. And he found himself tensing in his chair, his heartbeat accelerating, anticipation gripping him. Almost as if he was hoping she would.

But she didn’t. Instead that lovely mouth of hers compressed, and she looked down at her hands again. “I said I was sorry. There’s no need to be rude.”

So, not hot and angry, but a rebuke all the same.

The disapproval in her tone slid under his skin and stuck there, and for a long moment, he could only stare at her yet again. Part of him was incensed at her gall while another part was admiring of it.

There weren’t many people in New York who would have the balls to tell Lorenzo de Santis not to be so rude.

He did not have a reputation for friendliness. When he’d taken over as CFO not long after his mother and Katie had died, the media had dubbed him The Shark, because of his cold-blooded and completely ruthless approach to business. To everything really.

They didn’t know the real story, of course. That grief had stolen the softer, more merciful parts of himself, the self-indulgent, selfish parts. He’d cut them out, fashioned himself into a colder, harder version of the man he’d once been. A targeted missile aimed directly at his enemy.

His father.

Revenge on behalf of his mother was the only passion he allowed himself these days, his guilt for the way Katie had died only adding fuel to the fire.

He didn’t much care about anything else, or give two fucks about whether he was rude or not. Especially not when Kira Constantin was already back to her old tricks, interrupting him and then rebuking him as if he had been the rude one.

You’re not exactly going easy on her.

No, but his job wasn’t to go easy on people, and giving in to softer emotions didn’t help anyone, not in the long run.

His father used to tell him that John Donne was wrong, that every man should be an island. It was the only way to cut out weaknesses, to be strong. Yes, he hated his father and when he’d been a kid, he’d hated that advice, too.

It was only as an adult he’d realized that despite what an asshole his father had been, that little nugget of wisdom had been true after all.

Certainly, if he’d taken it, Katie would have been alive today.

Lorenzo took a long, slow sip of his coffee, letting the liquid burn down his throat, the caffeine buzzing in his veins. “Tell me, Kira. What do you think about rules?”

Her head came up, her gaze meeting his and widening slightly. “Rules?”

“Yes. Laws. Orders. Edicts. Things you have to obey or else face the consequences.”

She blinked. Her lashes were long, the black mascara she wore making the color of her eyes seem even more intense.

Katie’s eyes were blue, too.

The thought hit him like a lightning bolt, but he shoved it away as soon as it hit.

“What do you mean what do I think of them?”

“Are they needed? Are they necessary?” He put his coffee cup back down on the desk and leaned his elbows on the desktop. “Or maybe you think they only apply to other people, not to you?”

Her lovely mouth tightened, that blue spark of what he thought was probably anger glittering in her eyes.

Ah, so he’d hit a nerve. Good.

“That was a question, Kira.” He kept his tone ice cold. “I expect you to answer it.”

“Of course, I think rules apply to me as well.” Her posture was stiff, as if he’d offended her.

“Do you?” He held her gaze, studying the dizzying blue of her eyes. “I told you what I expected yesterday. That I didn’t want arguments. That I wanted you to do as you’re told. And yet you walk into my office on your first day and you’re already interrupting me then telling me not to be so rude.”

Another flush washed over her cheekbones. “Okay, okay. I get it. But if this is a subtle dig at my past—”

“This is not subtle. This is about as blatant as I can be.”

She said nothing, and he expected her to look away, but she didn’t. That defiant glitter was in her eyes, and her hands had curled into fists in her lap.

She was not cowed, not in any way.

Something shifted inside him then, something dark. Something that liked her defiance. Something that wanted her to keep pushing, keep testing. That wanted the excitement, that was hungry for the challenge of her, the thrill.

It flashed like lightning in his blood, coiled like a dragon in his gut, a deeply, intensely sexual pulse of flat-out desire.

His anger, already simmering, flared in response. Jesus, where was this inexplicable sexual attraction coming from? He hadn’t asked for it, and he didn’t want it. He didn’t want any woman to reach inside him and touch the part of himself he kept locked away, still less this woman.

Why not? Because you can’t have her?

Kira opened her mouth, but he held up a hand, silencing her before she could make the hole she was digging any deeper.

“I know who you are, Kira Constantin,” he said, because he was angry and apparently it didn’t matter how hard he was trying not to let her get to him, she was getting under his skin all the same. “I remember. You never sat still and you never paid attention to anything anyone told you. Your behavior was terrible, your attitude worse, and by all accounts in college you were a nightmare. Quite frankly, if Ivan wasn’t your father and hadn’t pleaded with me to give you this position, you wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near DS Tower let alone been my intern.”

Her cheeks flamed, the glitter of her anger now a blaze in her eyes.

Too bad. It seemed the lesson she’d already had in the form of that car accident hadn’t stuck. Which meant he was going to have to give her another.

“I know you’ve told me you’ve changed,” he went on, softly, harshly. “That you’re a different person now, but I’ve seen absolutely no evidence of it. You’re still interrupting the way you used to do when you were a kid. So I’m going to say this only once. You’re not a kid anymore. And you’re starting from zero. Absolute zero. You have no margin for error, none at all. I have no time to deal with that attitude of yours, and if you can’t manage your own behavior, you’re out. No second chances.” He paused to let the words sink in. “Do you understand?”

Her knuckles were white in her lap, her face deeply flushed. A quiver went through her, a tremble that he thought was probably rage.

He’d dealt out truths like this before, and while some people said nothing and accepted it, others burst into tears.

Kira did neither.

“Do you know how many people I’ve killed?” she asked, her voice slightly thick. “Two. One has been in a coma for seven months. Her prognosis isn’t good and she might end up being number three. And yes, you’re right. There’s no excuse for my behavior and because of it some people died. People who were my friends.” She took a hard, ragged breath, her blue eyes never leaving his. “So yes, I understand. I understand exactly.”

Lorenzo recognized the pain in her voice, saw the guilt that she wasn’t able to hide, and if the past thirteen years hadn’t happened, he might have actually felt some sympathy for her.

But he didn’t. Because those thirteen years had happened, and he had his own deaths to bear. He didn’t have any room for hers.

He met her burning gaze and held it. “Then you know what you have to do, don’t you?”

* * *

Kira had never wanted to hit anyone as badly as she wanted to hit Lorenzo de Santis. She wanted to pull back her hand and launch her fist straight into his perfect face.

With a few well-chosen words, spoken in that cold, deep voice, he’d sliced her straight down the middle with all the precision of a surgeon cutting open a patient. Then he’d calmly reached into her chest and pulled out all her insides.

She struggled for breath, fury choking her.

She didn’t need him to tell her that her behavior was a problem. She knew exactly, just like she’d told him. Two dead friends and a third in a coma to be precise.

Yes, the accident had been her fault and largely due to her refusal to take responsibility for her own problems. She’d been too busy showing her parents what a fuck-up she was, too determined to live down to their already low expectations of her to understand the consequences that could have on the people around her.

But she’d learned her lesson. She was getting help and she was trying.

As to the rest of it, sure, she couldn’t sit still, and paying attention had been hard as a kid. Her behavior had been terrible, especially as a teenager good at nothing but failing all her classes and disappointing her parents, unable to figure out what was wrong with her. Because something was, yet her parents had refused to help her, because they didn’t want to admit that there was even something wrong.

He didn’t understand that. He had no fucking idea.

Her anger twisted. Where did he get off being such an asshole just because she’d interrupted him once and then called him rude? He had no right to tear her apart like that, and especially not when she was trying so very hard to do better.

Kira dug her nails into her palms, looking for some pain to distract herself from the caustic anger that was bubbling up inside her.

She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she only gave him a stiff nod. Nothing would have given her greater pleasure than to stand up, flip him the bird, turn on her heel and walk out, but that would only prove him even more right about her.

So she sat there, stubbornly refusing to look away, waiting for him to either dismiss her or give her some more instructions.

Something gleamed in the deep charcoal of his eyes, but she didn’t know what it was, the hard set of his strongly-featured face giving nothing away.

A silence fell and it was not a comfortable one, the air between them seething with tension and animosity.

No, she was not going to be the one to break it. Not this time.

Slowly, Lorenzo leaned back in his chair. “You want to hit me, don’t you?”

“Yes.” There was no point in denying it, not when he could see her hands in fists in her lap.

“But you won’t.”

“No.” She wanted to add more, but that would be only more fuel to the fire so she bit her lip instead.

God, she was an idiot. She hadn’t meant to interrupt him, but the fact that he was palming her off onto his secretary hadn’t been at all in the plan. She was supposed to be working with him, that was the whole reason she was here, to get close to him. How was she supposed to do what her father wanted her to if she was working with his secretary?

She’d ignored the edge of disappointment inside her that told her it wasn’t just her father’s mission she was concerned for. That the part of herself she’d kept walled away was actually excited about being in Lorenzo’s presence every day.

Still, she could excuse herself one interruption. But then telling him he’d been rude? That had been the stupid part. That had been the old Kira, bubbling back to the surface and pushing at him, saying the first thing that had come into her head.

“Why not?” he asked.

The question sounded casual, but she didn’t make the mistake of thinking it was.

She looked right at him. “Perhaps I didn’t want another death on my hands.”

That gleam in his eyes glowed brighter, like lightning in a rainstorm, and it went through her just like lightning, too. “You should probably get out. You don’t want to blow all your chances on your first day by issuing death threats to your boss.”

She shouldn’t say anything. She should do what he said and get out of here. Yet even now, even after he’d hurt her, for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to move away from him. He was so hard, so cold. Different from the intense, vital man she remembered, the one with the warmth of the sun in his smile. Her curious brain was fixating on him again, wanting to know why he’d changed, wanting to know what his secrets were. Wanting to see that smile again . . .

“Can I just say one thing?” she heard herself ask. “While we’re clearing the air?”

“No.” That lightning in his eyes was pure silver. A warning.

Which she ignored, because clearly she had a death wish and couldn’t seem to shut herself up. “I think you’re an arrogant, entitled asshole, and just because you knew what I was like as a kid doesn’t mean you know one single thing about me as an adult.”

He didn’t move, and the expression on his face didn’t change. “Have you finished?” he asked casually, looking almost relaxed leaning back in his chair.

Yet something was gathering in the air around him that was anything but relaxed. A kind of electricity that raised all the hairs on the back of her neck and prickled over her skin, making her breath catch and the wildness inside her want to chase after it.

He was dangerous and there was a part of her that liked that. Liked it a lot.

Fear joined the anger inside her, a delicious, trembling sort of fear that held elements of excitement in it.

“Yes,” she said thickly, lifting her chin.

“Good.” The word was coated in ice, and yet that electricity around him . . . was anything but cold. “You may go.”

She didn’t want to. She wanted to stay here, cross swords with him some more. She wanted to get to him the way he was getting to her. Maybe even hurt him like he’d hurt her.

You can’t. You’re not here for that.

Shit. She couldn’t forget what she’d promised to do for her father. She was supposed to be earning Lorenzo’s trust, not making an enemy of him. Not letting old obsessions get in the way.

She forced herself to unclench her hands and stand up. To turn around and starting heading for the door.

“Oh, and Kira?”

She stopped as if she’d been turned to stone, her hand on the door handle.

“Stay out of my sight for the next five days. If I see you, you’re out of here.”

She gave a short, sharp nod to show she understood, which was about all she could manage. Then opened the door and went out, resisting the urge to slam it behind her.

Stacey looked up from behind her desk, giving Kira a cool, assessing look that made her feel as if the other woman knew exactly what had gone on in Lorenzo’s office. But if she did, Stacey didn’t say anything. All she said was “Are you ready to get started then? I’ll show you to Clara’s office.”

Five minutes later, she found herself in a small room down the hallway from Lorenzo’s office. Unlike his space, there were pictures on the wall and knickknacks on the desk. Photos of people she didn’t know and a cheerful arrangement of little china cats.

And a list of mundane tasks a mile long.

Kira stared down at the list Stacey had given her, feeling a little sick and a lot miserable. Then, letting out a breath, she sat down on Clara’s chair.

Okay, so once again, because she’d nearly let her emotions get the better of her, she’d come close to screwing up and getting herself fired. Only close, though. The line hadn’t been crossed yet.

You’re going to have to try harder.

Kira clenched her teeth together, her jaw tight, and pulled over the list of tasks she had to do.

Five days. He didn’t want to see her for five days.

Her stomach lurched at the memory of the cold expression on his face and the ice in his eyes, at the way he’d looked at her, as if he despised her. It made the sick feeling in her gut get worse, and she hated herself that apparently she still cared about his opinion.

Still felt the fascination with him that lurked inside her, a hot coal, banked and glowing, only needing one small bit of fuel to ignite it.

The fuel being him.

She sucked in a ragged breath. Staying out of his way was going to make her mission take longer, but maybe that was a good thing. Clearly, she needed the time to get herself the fuck together.

After about ten minutes of looking at the list and figuring out what she had to do—it was a good list, with lots of clear instructions—Kira took a quick break to grab her phone from her purse. Then she sent her father a text: He’s handed me over to his secretary. What do I do?

A minute later, her father responded. Nothing. If I encourage him to get you to work personally with him, it’ll seem suspicious. Just do what we discussed. Earn your place there.

It wasn’t anything she hadn’t expected. That might take some time, she texted back. I don’t think he likes me.

After a beat, her father replied. Then make him like you.

Kira sighed and leaned back in the chair.

Easier said than done. Then again, if she wanted to make this work, she had no other choice.

She was going to have to make Lorenzo like her. The only question was how.

Chapter 5

Lorenzo paused in front of Stacey’s desk the next morning, and took a quick look around the waiting area. There was no flash of brilliant blonde hair or deep blue eyes in sight.

Thank fuck for that.

“She’s in Clara’s office,” Stacey said without looking up.

“Good.” Lorenzo turned in the direction of his own office. “Make sure she stays there.”

He did not want to see her. He did not want her anywhere near him. Not after yesterday.

Not after she’d sat in the chair opposite his desk, her long-fingered hands curled into little fists, and told him he was arrogant and an entitled asshole. And that, yes, she’d wanted to hit him.

He’d told himself that he was furious because no one talked to him like that, still less some blonde airhead he’d been forced to employ, and that he wasn’t going to put up with it.

But he knew that was a lie. It hadn’t been because he was furious that he’d told her to leave and to stay out of his sight for five days.

It had been because the dark, hungry part of him had wanted to reach across his desk, grab those slender shoulders, and haul her into his lap. Then maybe crush that smart, pouty red mouth of hers under his own.

An unacceptable urge to feed an unacceptable hunger, and he simply wasn’t going to give in to it. He couldn’t afford to. He knew where releasing that part of himself led and it wasn’t anywhere good.

Besides, he still couldn’t figure out what exactly it was about her that appealed to that hungry monster inside him. There had been something about her flushed face and the defiant glow in her blue eyes. About the tension in her slender body, how she’d been almost trembling with suppressed violence.

He’d felt it hit him, fast and hard. The need to pull away that prim black dress and white cardigan, let her hair down so the pale silky locks could spill all over his hands. Release all that violence, that repressed passion, watch her light up as he got her beneath him . . .

Jesus Christ. He should not be thinking about this.

Lorenzo nearly slammed his office door in an uncharacteristic show of temper, only just stopping himself. Then he threw his briefcase down on the coffee table near the sofa and headed straight to his desk, booting up his computer.

Then he plunged himself into work.

It had the desired effect, thoughts of Kira fading as the day’s usual parade of problems and issues and meetings began their onslaught.

He didn’t see her all day and by the time the end of it came around, he was pleased with himself that he hadn’t thought of her once, not since the morning.

The next day was the same, except he found himself distracted in a meeting with his legal team by a new staff member with platinum hair. As soon as the woman entered the room, Lorenzo felt every muscle in his body instinctively tense up. And not with fury. With anticipation. Then there was the strange lurch that he told himself wasn’t in any way disappointment when he discovered that of course it wasn’t Kira.

The experience shouldn’t have affected him, and yet he found himself in a foul mood for the rest of the day.

On the third day, Ivan came to see him and asked him how Kira was getting on. Lorenzo bared his teeth at his friend and told him everything was fine. He’d decided to wait before he put his plan to discover whether or not Kira was passing on information into action. He didn’t want to deal with her personally yet, not until he could be sure he wasn’t going to forget himself the way he nearly had a few days back in his office.

Ivan’s visit put him in yet another foul mood, making Stacey frown at him from her desk whenever he stalked past. She’d been trying to have a meeting with him to talk about Kira’s progress so far, but he’d told her in no uncertain terms that Kira was not a priority for him and that Stacey would have to deal with her herself.

Stacey was unimpressed and when Stacey was unimpressed, everybody knew about it.

That afternoon he went into his private kitchenette near Stacey’s office so he could get himself a coffee—Stacey was dealing with an IT issue—and came to a sudden stop as a faint whiff of an unfamiliar scent wrapped around him.

It wasn’t Stacey’s usual perfume, and since Clara wasn’t here there was only one other person’s it could be.

Kira. She must have missed him by mere moments.

The scent was warm and deeply sensual and with a heady sweetness to it, like magnolia or jasmine. Definitely not an innocent scent.

He tried to push it away as he went about the process of making coffee, but somehow the perfume got inside him. Reminding him of those pale downy curls at the nape of her neck and the stretch of cotton across her breasts. That rogue lock of hair that had grazed the delicate line of her jaw and her long slim fingers.

The burn of blue wildfire in her eyes as she’d stared at him. “Do you know how many people I’ve killed?”

He cursed under his breath as he reached for his freshly made coffee.

No, he was not interested in her. Not in any way.

That night, when he got home, he found himself reaching for his phone again to call Sian, and then, when he realized what he was doing, he put it away.

Calling Sian would be a failure, would be an acknowledgment that Kira had somehow gotten to him, and she hadn’t. He wasn’t going to let her. He would call Sian when he wanted to and because he wanted to spend some time with her, not to work out this inexplicable attraction to his new young intern. It wouldn’t do him or Sian any favors if he did.

Unfortunately, it ended up meaning another night working in his office at home, because he couldn’t get himself to sleep. A quick five minutes in the shower getting himself off would have helped, but again, in his head, that had now become a defeat, an admission that he couldn’t control his own needs and desires, and if there was one thing he wouldn’t allow, it was a loss of control.

Lack of sleep and the simmering hunger he couldn’t seem to ignore meant he went into work the next day in even more of a foul temper, not helped by the prospect of a board meeting that included his father and brother scheduled for that afternoon.

Christ, the last thing he wanted to deal with was his father talking confidently about the latest projections—which he’d no doubt doctored to hide the money he’d been funneling away for himself—and how pleased he was with DS Corp.’s current trajectory. Anything to allay the concerns of the board and make it look like everything was fine.

It wasn’t fine. Cesare thought he could manipulate anyone and anything. Use it for his own ends, the way he’d manipulated Lorenzo’s mother, the way he’d manipulated Lorenzo, too. It was why Lorenzo had never told his father about Katie, because she’d become another pawn in Cesare de Santis’s grand chess game.

A game that Lorenzo was going to make sure his father lost.

The meeting with the board was not, as Lorenzo had predicted, a comfortable one. At least for Lorenzo it wasn’t.

His father, chairing the meeting, was his usual autocratic self, rolling over the figures Lorenzo presented with a wave of his hand, turning the conversation around to the government contract Xavier had landed before he’d disappeared back to Wyoming. He placated the board the way he normally did, with charisma, down-home Western practicality, and the ability to intimidate when the need arose.

Sitting beside the old man was Lorenzo’s middle brother Rafael. Who said nothing the entire meeting, his silver-blue eyes studying Lorenzo as if Lorenzo was a difficult equation he was trying to work out.

Perhaps Rafe suspected Lorenzo had discovered their father’s illegal activities and was even now thinking of ways to cover it up, the way he always did when it came to protecting the old man.

If so, he was going to be shit out of luck. Lorenzo was going to make sure of that personally.

He stared back at his brother, giving him nothing.

Halfway through the meeting, the door opened for coffee to be bought in.

At first Lorenzo, expecting Stacey, didn’t take much notice, only belatedly realizing as the person began arranging the cups and fiddling with the coffee pots that it wasn’t Stacey in her impeccably tailored Chanel suit after all.

The woman had her back to the room, bending over the table where the afternoon tea was being arranged, and was doing a very good job of being unobtrusive. She wore a loose black blouse tucked into a light gray pencil skirt, the shape of the skirt highlighting her trim waist, beautifully rounded ass, and a pair of long, slender legs.

He didn’t normally allow himself to get distracted by women, no matter how shapely their asses were, and maybe that lingering sexual fascination with Kira had something to do with it, because he couldn’t seem to stop himself from looking right now.

The woman straightened and all thought vanished from Lorenzo’s head as he caught a glimpse of the woman’s rigidly pulled-back hair.

It was platinum blonde.

A bolt of something white hot and intense hit him, the hunger that had been simmering in his gut for the past three days, the hunger he’d been trying to tell himself he didn’t feel, suddenly flaring into life.

He froze in his chair, watching her, unable to tear his gaze from her as she added a dash of cream and two sugars to the coffee she’d poured, then moved quietly over to where his father sat and left it at his elbow.

Anger began to lick up inside him, threading through the hunger, his sleepless night, and his already toxic mood, making him even angrier than he was already.

What the hell was she doing here? He’d warned her to stay out of his sight for at least five days and yet here she was, day four, serving coffee to a board meeting she must have known he’d be at. Where the hell was Stacey? She was usually the one who did the coffee for the board meetings, because she was a control freak who didn’t like handing over tasks to others who might screw it up. And if she wasn’t here, it was probably because something important had come up.

Lorenzo stared hard at Kira as she began to head back to the doors, the blood pounding loudly in his head. Her attention was on the doors ahead of her, and yet as he watched, he saw a brilliant stain of color creep slowly over her cheeks.

She knew he was there. She knew he was looking at her.

The dark, intense hunger gathered tighter inside him, along with a concentrated fury, both at himself for the way this seemingly inexplicable attraction to her had gotten under his skin and at her because for all that she looked so pale and fragile, there was that heat to her. That energy. That smoldering flame. It warmed her skin, made her eyes glow. Made her push at him, call him arrogant and an asshole, made her want to hit him.

And you want her to try. Don’t you?

His breathing had gotten uneven, and he couldn’t hear a single fucking thing under the roar of the blood in his veins.

Then just before Kira disappeared through the doors, her head turned, and she looked at him. And it was like lightning striking him, a burst of hot electricity crackling along every nerve-ending he had.

Her eyes widened as if she’d felt it, too, the blue of her iris flaring then turning dark. And as he watched, she stumbled, managing to check herself before she lost her balance completely.

Fuck, that was him. That was all him.

Something right down low inside him, something that he’d been starving in the hope that it would die, growled in intense satisfaction.

“Lorenzo,” someone barked. “What the hell are you doing?”

Kira disappeared out of the room, the doors closing quietly behind her, and as she did so Lorenzo became aware of the sudden silence. He turned his head and found the entire board staring back at him. And not only that, he was half out of his chair, as if he’d been preparing to leave the room.

Shock gripped him. Goddammit. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Slowly, he lowered himself down into the chair, trying to get himself the hell together.

His father, sitting at the other end of the meeting table, glowered at him. “Am I going to have to tell Ivan about this? That you were too busy staring at his daughter’s ass to pay attention?”

Fuck.

Someone down at his father’s end of the table snorted.

Lorenzo swept an icy gaze over the board members before letting it come to rest on his father. “When you have something to say worth paying attention to,” he said coldly. “I’ll stop looking at her ass.”

There were no snorts now, the atmosphere in the room tense.

His father scowled and opened his mouth, only for Rafael to interject mildly, “I don’t want to derail this obviously fascinating topic, but perhaps we can leave the subject of asses out of this?” Despite his casual tone, a warning glowed in Rafael’s eyes. “I believe all Dad was asking for are the latest figures from the testing facility in Nevada.”

Lorenzo knew he should get ahold of himself. He should start the presentation he and Stacey had put together for the meeting. And most important of all, he should calm the fuck down.

But fury was burning a hole in his gut and all he could think about was how she’d disobeyed him. How she’d appeared at the meeting like it was no big deal, bending over in that tight little skirt, showing her ass off as she arranged the cups and poured the coffee before strolling calmly out.

As if she hadn’t just set him on fire with one glance.

She had to know what she’d done. And she had to pay for it.

He was tired and foul-tempered and furious. His groin ached, and if he wasn’t careful, everyone in the entire room would know exactly what she’d done to him. How dare she do that him, and in a board meeting no less.

Fuck, he didn’t care what he’d promised Ivan. He was going to fire her so fast her head would spin.

Picking up the remote, Lorenzo threw it over the boardroom table to his surprised brother, who caught it in a reflexive movement.

“You tell him,” Lorenzo said curtly, pushing his chair back and standing up. “Excuse me gentlemen. I have an urgent staffing issue that can’t wait.”

There was an eruption of sound as he turned and left the room, his father’s deep voice calling after him, but he didn’t turn. Instead he headed straight for the elevator and was back on the hundredth floor in less than a minute.

As he stalked by Stacey’s desk toward his office, he ordered, “Tell Kira I want her in my office. Now.”

“But you have Mr. Delaney and Ms. Chadwick from—-”

“They can wait.” He didn’t even look at the two people sitting in the waiting area. He wasn’t interested.

Right now, nothing was more important than getting Kira Constantin out of his company, out of his head, and out of his life.

Going into his office, he started in the direction of his desk, intending to sit, then found himself pacing back and forth in front of it instead, the intensity of the emotion pumping through him too hot to allow for sitting still.

She seemed to take forever to arrive, and by the time his office door finally opened and she came in, he was about ready to explode.

Kira shut the door with a kind of deliberate care that only pushed his fury higher. Then she stood there with her hands clasped in front of her, not looking at all as terrified as she should be considering he was going to give her the dressing down of her life before firing that pretty ass of hers.

In fact, her chin was lifted, and those big, deep blue eyes of hers held nothing but a stubborn defiance. “Before you say anything,” she began.

But he was already heading straight for her, coming fast and not stopping. Making her give a gasp and stumble back on the high black pumps she wore. And even then, he didn’t stop, not until he’d backed her up against the door of his office.

Then he put one hand on either side of her head, caging her against the wood at her back.

“You’re fired,” he meant to say. But he didn’t.

Because now he was close to her, that warm, sensual perfume of hers was wrapping around him again and yes, it was the one he’d smelled in the kitchenette the day before. He’d been right about that. And it wound through his brain, making his heart race even faster, carrying with it a rich flower scent and something else, something delicate and musky and hot. Something inherently female.

Her.

All the words vanished from his head.

She’d been getting under his skin, pushing him, infuriating him, teasing him all week and all without even being in the same room as him. And then, when she had been in the same room, all she had to do was look at him, and he was on fire, his control in pieces. In front of the board. In front of his fucking father.

It was unacceptable. She had to be taught a lesson.

So he didn’t tell her she was fired.

He bent his head and crushed her mouth under his instead.

* * *

Kira barely had time to take a breath before Lorenzo’s mouth came down on hers, and then she found herself pushed right up against the closed door, the hard heat of his body plastered against every inch of her.

For a moment she froze, too shocked to do anything more.

Then everything seemed to explode, an instant and intense hunger licking up inside her, igniting like a huge, dark bonfire.

The new Kira, the woman she was trying desperately to be, shouted a warning to push him away, not let him touch her. Not let him put her precious self-control at risk, because if she did, all her hard work over the past six months would have been for nothing.

But it was difficult to hear that Kira over the roar of her own desire.

Since she’d been a kid and he’d shown her kindness, shown her how to make that paper crane the day of the garden party, she’d been fascinated with Lorenzo de Santis. And as a teenager, that fascination had only gotten more complex, become tangled up in the passion she’d seen his eyes as he’d looked at the woman in Bryant Park, as he’d kissed her.

She’d seen his passion flame that day, a passion she’d wanted for herself.

Because it felt like she’d been born cold and only he could warm her.

Well, she had that passion now, and the low hum of desire that had hit her the moment she’d locked gazes with him upstairs had risen to become a scream that was drowning everything out.

She should really stop and think about why he was always so angry with her. Why he was pushing her up against the door and kissing her so suddenly when just days before he hadn’t even wanted to set eyes on her.

But her brain wouldn’t work, the self-control she’d practiced so diligently since the accident breaking apart under the ferocity of the need that filled her.

She felt like a starving woman stumbling over a feast set out just for her.

Her hands lifted to his face as if they had a will of their own, her fingers pushing into the thick black silk of his hair, glorying in the softness of it against her skin. Then she held on as she opened her mouth, his tongue pushing between her lips in a hard, hot demand that wanted nothing less than her total surrender.

Somewhere in the back of her head, the Kira who was trying to do better screamed louder then fell silent, flattened under the sheer weight of desire.

All week she’d been trying hard to stay out of sight, to prove to him that she could obey orders and do a good job. Then, today, Stacey had told her that she had to serve the coffee in the boardroom, because Stacey had an important conference call. Kira had almost refused, because of course she’d known Lorenzo had been in there, but she’d promised him she’d do what she was told, and so she’d sucked it up, hoping that he wouldn’t notice her.

Yet he had. And she’d felt it the very second his attention locked onto her, the intensity of his gaze making her whole body hum like she’d been plugged into a power socket. It had been all she could do not to spill coffee all over the expensive carpet of the boardroom.

She’d turned to look at him just before she’d gone out of the room, an impulse that soon proved to be a mistake. Because his eyes were silver and the expression in them was so full of heat and fury it had felt like she’d been struck by lightning. She’d stumbled and had barely managed to make it out of the meeting room with her dignity intact.

She’d been furious with herself after that, for letting herself be so susceptible to him, and when the order had come from Stacey that he’d wanted to see Kira in his office, she hadn’t wanted to go. But she’d forced herself, justifications for her presence at the meeting tangling in her head. Then she’d seen him pacing restlessly in front of his desk. And when his head had come up, she’d seen that silver in his eyes flash, jagged and hot, and she’d forgotten everything she’d been going to say.

Then he’d begun to come toward her, fluid and fast, and she’d forgotten the entire previous week.

He was the gun going off right in front of her.

He was the bullet slamming her against the wall.

Kira gripped him tighter, her head tilting back, gasping as he pushed his tongue deeper into her mouth. He tasted so good, rich and alcoholic. Like a hit of brandy in a perfect hot chocolate. So damn delicious.

He kissed her harder, his teeth grazing her lower lip in a short, sharp bite that sent a shudder of reaction straight through her. She arched helplessly against him, loving the feeling of being crushed between the door and his hard, hot body, kissing him back with as much hunger and desperation as he was kissing her.

She could smell him all around her, sandalwood and musk, and the spicy, masculine scent of his skin. And she felt half out of her mind with the need to touch him, taste him, run her fingers all over him and discover whether he was as hard and muscled as he felt under those impeccable tailored suits.

You should stop this. You know you shouldn’t be doing this.

Dimly, she knew that. This was a mistake, and the last thing she should be doing was making more mistakes, especially when she’d made so many already. But the hunger had taken hold. This need had been dogging her for years, and finally he was here. Finally, that cruel, beautiful mouth of his was on hers and she couldn’t let him go, she just couldn’t. And, Jesus, maybe she had to do this. To have him so she could finally exorcise this terrible fascination she had with him.

Maybe if she did this, she could be free of it.

Maybe then she could finally focus on the things she was supposed to.

She let go of his head, reaching for his tie, clawing at it to unknot the fabric and pull it away, get the buttons of his shirt undone so she could at last touch his bare skin. Put her mouth to his throat and taste him.

Suddenly he shifted, knocking her hands away and pressing her harder against the door, pinning her there with the weight of his body so she couldn’t move. His hand came up and his fingers closed around her throat, forcing her head back against the door.

She sucked in a shocked breath, the heat of his palm burning against her neck like a hot coal. His grip wasn’t painful, and she could breathe. But it was firm enough that she couldn’t get out of it.

A tremble shook the entire length of her body, the sensation of being pinned somehow intensifying everything, drawing her nipples into tight, hard peaks beneath her blouse, and making the ache between her thighs begin to throb insistently.

He leaned in close, the lines of his beautiful face drawn taut with fury and hunger. It glittered in his eyes, too, and she couldn’t look away.

She’d never been this close to him before, never been so near that she could see that his irises weren’t simply dark charcoal gray, but were fractured and crystalline with a much lighter silver. The effect was amazing, and with his long, thick black lashes and the straight dark lines of his brows, startlingly beautiful.

“You broke the rules,” he said softly, the cold edge in his voice feathering over her heated skin, making her shiver yet again. “You didn’t do as you were told.”

Kira fought for breath, trying to hold his gaze. He may have sounded cold, but there was nothing but furious heat in his eyes. It made her whole body tighten. “I . . . didn’t mean to.” Her voice sounded raw and shaky, but she couldn’t get it to sound any firmer. “S-Stacey told me—”

“I don’t give a shit what Stacey told you,” he snarled, leaning even closer, raw anger and white lightning swamping her. “You broke the rules. You made me fucking hard in front every single board member in that room. In front of my fucking father.” His thumb at the side of her neck moved slowly up and down, stroking her. The gentleness of the touch was so at odds with the rage in his voice she didn’t know quite how to process it.

Lorenzo leaned farther in, putting his mouth near her ear, his breath whispering over the sensitized skin of her neck, raising goose-bumps. “You know that that means, don’t you, Kira?”

The stroking of his thumb was insanely distracting, adding yet another sensation to the mix already flooding her. She wanted to do so many things to him, but he was holding her completely still. Containing her.

She loved the feeling.

“N-No,” she whispered, even though part of her did.

“It means,” he murmured, a note of heat in his cold, dark voice, “that now you have to pay.”

Her breathing hitched, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She was shaking, and she couldn’t seem to make herself stop.

Yes, God, yes. She’d been angry before, because it hadn’t been her fault, but now her anger had changed, become something else. Now all she was conscious of was a terrible, insatiable need to prove herself to him. To show him that she was capable of being good, that she could follow the rules, that she wouldn’t disappoint him or let him down. And not only that she wanted to, she was desperate for the chance to do so.

This isn’t folding paper cranes, and you’re not ten years old anymore.

No, but she didn’t care. She’d take responsibility for her mistake. She would pay. She would pay whatever price he wanted her to.

She could feel his mouth so close to the delicate skin under her ear, his breath like the touch of a flame. His scent was everywhere, and the astonishing heat of his body was making her crazy. “How?” she forced out. “Are you g-going to fire me?”

He turned his head a little more, his thumb resuming its stroking movement up the side of her neck to the base of her jaw, then down again. “No.” His mouth was so close to her ear she almost felt the touch of it. “I’m not going to fire you.” Another minute shift of his body, his hard, muscular thigh pressing suddenly between hers. “I’m going to fuck you. Right now. Right here. Up against this door.”

Kira inhaled raggedly, a jolt of shock going through her. And then, right behind it, a blinding surge of desire, so intense she could hardly breathe.

His grip on her jaw firmed and with easy strength, he turned her head away from him, exposing her neck. “Can you deal with that, Kira?” His mouth pressed to the skin below her ear, and she gasped at the sensation, fire streaking through her. “Because that’s my price.”

She closed her eyes, her breathing getting shorter, faster. “Y-yes.”

“There will be rules, of course.” His teeth against the side of her neck, biting her, a sharp nip that made her groan. “There are people out there waiting for me so you’d better be quiet. You’d better not make a sound.”

She opened her mouth to agree, then at the last minute, gave a shaky nod instead.

“You will not touch me.” Lorenzo’s voice was icy with authority and it should have cooled her, calmed her, but it didn’t. “And you will not come until I tell you to.” Again his teeth against the sensitive side of her neck and another sharp bite that had her jerking in his hold in reaction. “Do you understand?”

She nodded, trembling all over.

“Prove yourself to me. And maybe . . .” Another sharp nip to her earlobe. “Just maybe I’ll keep you on.”

He didn’t let go of her jaw, keeping her head turned away, but she felt his other hand move, his fingers trailing down the exposed line of her neck and then farther down, to the curve of her breast. She inhaled sharply as he followed that curve, finding the hard outline of her nipple beneath the fabric of her blouse and circling it gently.

She squeezed her eyes shut, shuddering at the electric intensity of the sensation, trying to stifle the moan that gathered in her throat. His fingers lingered for another taunting second before they moved down, and she had to bite her lip to stop from protesting as they slid over her waist and hip, and down over her thigh.

He was watching her, she could feel it, and part of her wanted to hide from him and not let him see what he was doing to her, not show how desperate she was. Yet there was another part of her that just didn’t care. That gloried in her own need.

That wanted him to know.

“So far, so good,” he murmured, and she felt his fingers curl under the hem of her skirt. “But now I’m going to make it harder.”

And with one smooth movement, he jerked up her skirt.

Chapter 6

Lorenzo barely knew what he was doing. The icy control he exerted over all aspects of his life had disappeared entirely, overwhelmed by the insistent desire that had him by the throat and refused to let go.

He knew this was a bad idea.

He knew that getting close to her and forcing her up against the door was a mistake, kissing her an even worse one.

If she’d shoved him away, yelled at him, and looked at him with outrage, he would have ended it instantly. But she hadn’t. She’d gone all soft and hot, and he’d tasted hunger in the sweet heat of her mouth. Then she’d grabbed at his tie, clawed at his shirt, arched against him and gasped, just as hungry for him as he was for her.

Which meant her fate was sealed and his along with it.

He would allow himself this one indulgence and with any luck it would get rid of this insane, distracting need once and for all.

He didn’t care about the people waiting for him in the room outside. He didn’t care that his secretary was merely a yard from the door.

He didn’t care that he was at work and that he’d never done anything like this in his office before.

The only thing that mattered was the fury inside him. The desire to make her pay for what she’d done to him. To show her the consequences of not obeying the rules he’d set. And to watch her prove herself to him, prove herself worthy.

He didn’t know why he wanted that, he just did. And he was going to have it.

His own breathing was nearly as fast as hers as he pulled the tight fabric of her skirt right up to her waist. Her legs were bare underneath it, the heat of her body seeping through the wool of his suit pants as he pressed harder against her, keeping a grip on her jaw.

Her smooth skin was so warm against his fingers, the soft heat of her throat against his palm. He could feel the tension in her neck, could see it, too, in the rigid way her tendons stood out as he held her head turned against the door at her back.

But he didn’t let go. The exposed vulnerability of her bare neck and throat made him want to bite her, nip her, lick up the salty/sweet taste of her. He indulged himself, leaning in and inhaling that taunting, teasing scent. Flowers and the light musk of feminine arousal. It went straight to his head, made his cock rock hard.

He could hear her breathing, fast and fractured, and he wanted to push her even harder, pressing his mouth to the base of her throat. At the same time, he reached down between her thighs, pulling the front of her silky panties to one side.

She stiffened, her breath catching, and he allowed himself one touch, sliding his fingers through the folds of her pussy. She was wet and slick and hot, her whole body going rigid as he found the hard bud of her clit, brushing it with his thumb.

He watched her profile, watched her pale skin flush deep red and her eyes go wide. So she did blush when he touched her and what a pretty color it was, too.

It made her look so beautiful. Like a statute slowly coming to life.

Her teeth sank into her full bottom lip and he couldn’t resist the urge to linger, stroke her clit a little harder, wanting her to make a sound. See how else he could affect her.

“You like that?” he murmured leaning in against her, inhaling so her scent filled his head. “You like my finger on your clit?

She gave a frantic nod, her breathing raw and harsh, hips pressing against his hand, trying to chase the friction.

He wanted to stand here all day touching her like this, having her at his mercy. But the pressure was building inside him and if he didn’t get inside her right now, he was going to fucking explode.

Taking his hand from between her thighs, he flicked open the button on his pants and pulled down his zipper, grabbing his cock. Then he pushed between her thighs, guiding himself into all that softness and thrusting hard.

Her mouth opened in a soundless gasp, her body arching against the door, her eyes closing tightly as heat engulfed him. Jesus, so much fucking heat. She was tight and slick, her pussy gripping him like a fist, and a growl escaped him, the pleasure almost blinding.

He could feel the soft press of her breasts against his chest, smell that erotic scent of hers, and she was trembling hard, which made the satisfaction unwinding inside him all the more intense.

He ran his hand down her thigh and slid it behind her knee, lifting her leg up high around his waist, angling her hips against the door so he could push deeper.

Again her breathing caught, a sharp sound in the silence of the room.

Lorenzo bent his head, licking the hollow of her throat, tasting the salt that lingered there and it only made him hungrier. Visions started to unroll behind his eyes, of her spread-eagled on his desk, utterly naked, and him sitting in his chair with his face buried between her legs, tasting her, pushing his tongue deep inside her. Making her have to bite her own lip bloody in her desire to obey him by not making a sound.

He didn’t pause to examine why he wanted that, or question himself as to why it was so important; he just wanted it.

Licking his way up her neck, he finally turned her head back so she was facing him again. “Open your eyes, Kira,” he ordered, not caring how rough his own voice was. “I want you to look at me while I’m fucking you.”

Her lashes trembled and slowly they lifted. Her eyes were the color of the deep ocean, the currents in them as dark and complex as the sea itself. Desire glowed there, a hunger he recognized because he felt it, too. And other things: pain and grief and desperation.

You recognize those. They’re familiar.

Yes, he knew. And maybe he should have denied it, but he didn’t. He just kept staring into her eyes as he drew his hips back and thrust hard, shoving her back against the door. Again. And again.

Her gaze didn’t waver, didn’t flicker. She stared back at him like she was drowning and only he could save her. Every thrust made her breathing hitch until she started giving sharp, hard pants, her hips lifting, trying to match the movement of his.

The heat between them was incredible.

Pleasure drew tighter, like a massive fist slowly closing, and he moved harder, faster. Slamming her into the door over and over, not caring who heard them, not caring about anything but the slick heat of her pussy and the darkening blue of her eyes.

She began to shake, her teeth sinking so hard into her bottom lip, he saw blood.

Satisfaction was its own dark kind of pleasure. “Good girl,” he whispered. “You can have a reward.” And he put his hand over her mouth. “Scream into my hand if you need to.”

Then he moved even harder, even faster, changing the angle of his thrusts so he was hitting her clit, driving into her over and over again, until her head went back against the door, her eyes almost black, the heat of her frantic breathing against his palm. She said nothing, but she didn’t need to. He could read the look in her eyes.

“Yes,” he growled. “Yes, you can fucking come.”

Instantly her body convulsed, her pussy squeezing his cock like a vise, her head back against the door, her neck arching. He kept his hand over her mouth, muffling the hoarse scream that escaped her, not even flinching as her teeth closed hard on his palm. The pain was an electric shock that went straight to his cock and he was thrusting hard and wild, out of control and desperate. And at the last moment, he took his hand away from her mouth and covered it with his own, growling as the climax roared up from the base of his spine and exploded in his head.

He was mindless for long moments afterward, his mouth motionless on hers, listening to the sounds of their frantic breathing start to even out. He could feel the wet heat of her pussy gripping him tight and the pressure of her thigh wrapped around his waist. His other hand was resting at the base of her throat, her pulse beating fast against his palm.

He didn’t think of anything at all for another good minute.

Then it all came flooding back. Who she was. Who he was. What they were doing. Where they were doing it . . .

You fucked your intern up against your office door. You asshole.

Lorenzo pulled out of her, ignoring the delicate shiver she gave as he did so, shoving himself away from her and the door. Then he realized something else. He hadn’t bothered with a condom.

Fuck. Fuck.

Ice flooded through his veins, the heat that had been there before vanishing completely. Trying to suppress the shake in his hands, he turned his back on her, tucking himself away and jerking up his zipper. “We didn’t use a condom.” His voice was rough and far too ragged.

“It’s okay.” She didn’t sound any better, which was some consolation. “My last injection was only a month ago.”

It should have made him feel better, but it didn’t. He turned his head to the side. “Are you clean?”

There were soft rustles behind him, the sound of fabric being put back to rights. He should turn around. He should at least help her, make sure she was okay. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It felt like something in him that he’d thought was hard as stone had cracked. And he didn’t know how to fix it.

“Yes.” There was an edge in her voice. “Are you?”

Look at her, you fucking coward.

He steeled himself and swung around.

She was standing against the door, leaning back on it as if she couldn’t bring herself to move away quite yet. Her hair was starting to come down from that bun on the top of her head, pale tendrils curling around her forehead and neck. Her skin was a deep rose, her eyes glowing, her lower lip full and covered in bite marks.

He’d wanted to know what would she would look like if he touched her, if he got inside her, and now he knew.

She looked incandescent.

His cock twitched, wanting more.

Jesus Christ.

“Of course, I’m clean,” he snapped, furious with himself all over again and, irrationally, with her and her glowing beauty. “I’m not the one who by all accounts was screwing around in college.”

She blinked as if he’d slapped her. Her mouth opened and then closed again, and she turned her head, looking away from him, folding her arms across her chest.

That was uncalled for, asshole.

Christ, he didn’t know what had gotten into him. Yes, he was definitely an asshole, but he wasn’t needlessly cruel. He didn’t hurt women deliberately simply because he lost his temper.

Like you’re not the kind of man who backs a woman up against a door, orders her to follow your rules, then puts a hand over her mouth so she can scream into it as you fuck her. Right?

No. No. He wasn’t that kind of man, and sex didn’t usually entail any of that. He made sure his partner was happy and satisfied, but he didn’t lose himself to passion. He didn’t allow lust to cloud his judgment. He remained in control of himself at all times.

After Katie, anything else wasn’t an option.

But with Kira, he hadn’t thought; he’d simply followed his instincts and done exactly as he pleased. And what he pleased was apparently telling her what to do, talking dirty to her. Making her desperate and needy. Making her scream.

And you want to do it again.

Yes, and that’s why he was so fucking angry. Because he did want to do it again. But he’d promised himself once and once only in the hope that a quick fuck would satisfy his craving, deal to the need. Yet he could feel it inside him, the embers of desire burning slowly and steadily. All it would take was a single breath and they’d ignite again.

“Well,” she said stiffly, determinedly not looking at him. “I guess it’s clear where I stand then. Can I go now, please? Or are we going to continue on with the ‘you’re such a slut’ conversation?”

He stared at her, at the tense line of her jaw and the taut set of her shoulders. He’d hurt her. He’d offended her.

For the first time since he’d lost Katie, he felt regret turn over inside him.

She’d done exactly what he’d asked, stayed out of his sight. And not only had she done that, she hadn’t touched him or made a sound as he’d screwed her. Even when he’d been the one crossing the line, she’d been trying to do her best to do as she was told.

And he’d repaid her by screwing her then dishing out some needless, pointless cruelty.

He didn’t know what to do with that. An apology seemed ridiculous after what had happened between them and besides, he didn’t feel sorry about the sex, not at all. But he didn’t like that he’d hurt her, and the fact that her feelings were impinging on him didn’t make his temper any better.

Nor did the fact that his body was already readying itself for another round.

“I don’t care who you slept with in college,” he said roughly. “And no, you can’t go. I haven’t finished with you yet.”

* * *

Kira kept her gaze on the view out of the windows, her heart thumping hard behind her breastbone. She didn’t want to ask him what he meant by that, just like she didn’t want to feel the sudden leap of excitement that crowded in her throat at the rough words.

She was still recovering from the effects of one intense, bone-melting orgasm, and what she did not want to deal with right now was her stupid, wildly swinging emotions.

Jesus, he’d pushed her up against a door, screwing her senseless with people right outside. He’d told her not to come until he said, then he’d put her hand over her mouth and told her to scream into it. So she had. She’d come so hard she’d nearly blacked out.

She’d never experienced pleasure like that, not with anyone. It was like he’d known exactly what to say to get her off, exactly what to do to push her higher. Exactly how to touch her. It was like he knew her body and what to do with it better than she did.

None of the men she’d been with had ever bothered about her pleasure. All they’d cared about was themselves. They weren’t interested in her, not in any way, and she’d told herself that’s how she preferred it. That she didn’t want their attention anyway.

Yet Lorenzo had watched her the whole time, touching her with such intense focus she’d nearly come on the spot from that alone. And when he’d ordered her to look at him . . . God, she’d found that completely overwhelming. It had made her feel vulnerable and yet at the same time she hadn’t been able to look away.

But no matter how good it felt, that didn’t change the fact that what she’d done was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be giving in to her every emotion and doing what felt good, not anymore. It was something the old Kira would have done, and she wasn’t supposed to be that person anymore. She was supposed to be different.

“Oh yes, you have.” She turned her head to meet his intense gray stare. “You’ve certainly finished with me.”

Something shifted in his eyes and suddenly he was moving toward her like he had before, but she wasn’t going to let herself be pushed again, no matter who he was. She stood there with her arms folded across her chest, staring straight at him as he closed the distance between them. Not moving.

He stopped right in front of her and the scent of him swamped her once more, sandalwood and male musk and sex. And her mouth went dry, her nipples pressing hard against her folded arms. His gaze was so fierce. It made her want to shield herself from the intensity and yet bask in it like a cat in a beam of sunlight.

“Is that what you want?” he demanded. “Or are you just saying that because that’s what you think you should do?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. The right thing is—”

His hand flashed out before she could finish, gripping her chin with inexorable strength and tilting her head back. “The right thing, Kira, is what I want, understand?”

She shuddered, helpless against the sudden rise of desire that filled her. She didn’t know why all the manhandling he was doing was turning her on, but it did. “You’re my boss,” she said thickly, trying and failing to pull away from him. “You’re over ten years older than me, and you’re Dad’s friend. I can’t—”

He lifted his thumb and gently but firmly placed it against her mouth, stopping her words entirely. “I can do whatever the fuck I want,” he said with a kind of cold arrogance that she found bizarrely reassuring. “And if I want to fuck you again, then I will. The real question, Kira, is whether you want me to do it.”

Yes. God, yes.

She swallowed, trying to ignore the need that pulsed inside her. The terrible, insatiable need that was suddenly awake, that wanted the heat of his gaze on her, his hands on her. The fire of him warming up the cold parts of her soul.

“Screwing my boss is not what I came here to do,” she murmured against the press of his thumb, the desperation in her voice bleeding through no matter how hard she tried to stop it. “That’s what the old me would have done and that’s not who I am anymore. I’m trying to be . . .” But she couldn’t finish, because his thumb was pressing down again, closing her mouth, silencing her.

“You’re trying to be good,” he said. “Yes, I know.”

The flat statement sounded pathetic, and she tried to turn away from him, embarrassed all of a sudden. But he wouldn’t let her, gripping her firmly, staring down into her face as if he was looking for something.

“If you want to be a good girl,” he said after a moment, “then how about you be a good girl for me.”

There was no mistaking the slight emphasis on the words. And all she could think of was yes, that’s exactly what she wanted to be. A good girl for him. Hadn’t that been what she’d wanted the moment he’d showed her how a piece of paper could become a bird? And all the moments after whenever he visited, holding out a freshly folded crane for him to look at, see that she’d gotten it right? Though gradually it had become less about whether she’d done it right, than wanting him to smile at her and tell her she’d done well.

She’d never managed to be good enough for her parents, that ship had long since sailed, but she had a chance to be good for him.

He stared down at her, a slight crease between his straight, black brows. As if he was debating something. Then he said, “Saturday night. My place. I’ll send a car for you.” His thumb pressed lightly down on her lip, and she shivered again, trying to fight the urge to lick it, taste him. “You can spend the whole night showing me exactly how good you can be, hmm?”

She should shake her head, refuse. Give him her resignation. Tell him she couldn’t do it, that she’d changed, and part of that change was not giving into temptation again

Why not? Aren’t you supposed to be gaining his trust? And isn’t this the best way to do it?

The thought hit hard, jolting her.

It was true. Her father had told her she needed to get an insight into what Lorenzo was working on or perhaps planning, and then forward that information to him and Cesare de Santis. And what better way to do that than with sex? In fact, given what had just happened between them, it seemed like sleeping with him again was the next logical step.

Rationalization much?

She ignored the thought, giving another jerky nod, shivering as the pressure of his thumb eased and he stroked it back and forth along her lip.

“Tell me,” he said softly. “Give me the words, Kira.”

“Yes.” Her voice was husky and breathless, but she didn’t care. “Yes, okay. I’ll come to your place on Saturday.”

“And you’ll do whatever I want?”

“Yes,” she repeated. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

His gaze burned into hers, a furious icy storm. “You’ll be mine for the night. Mine completely.”

The words resonated inside her, echoing with an unfamiliar possessiveness her lonely soul drank up like a thirsty plant drinks up rain.

Kira stared back and gave him the only answer she could. “Yes, I’ll be yours. Yours completely.”

Then, because she still wasn’t in complete control of herself, she nipped the tip of his thumb, looking at him as the salty flavor of his skin burst on her tongue.

A soft hiss escaped him, the silver in his eyes flaring in response. “You beautiful little bitch. Did I say you could do that?”

Her breath caught at the soft menace in his tone, desire gathering tighter at the sound. Stupid to give in to the impulse, but a part of her wanted to keep pushing him and maybe punish him for that sleeping around comment he’d made. And maybe so she could see that amazing silver ignite in his eyes.

She wanted the lightning. God, she wanted it.

Kira didn’t reply, opening her mouth to nip him again, but before she could move, his grip tightened abruptly and he was kissing her, hard and hot and demanding. She groaned, leaning into him, opening her mouth under his. But then his teeth closed on her already battered lower lip, delivering a nip of his own that sizzled along her nerve-endings, all the way down to her sex.

Then he lifted his head, his eyes gleaming. “If you don’t want to end up naked and screaming on my desk, you’d better get out.”

Instinctively she looked at the desk, her stupid brain already racing ahead and thinking that’s exactly where she wanted to end up.

Lorenzo gave a soft laugh that was somehow both icy cold and yet blazingly hot at the same time and released her chin. “Perhaps I should amend that. If you don’t want me to change my mind about Saturday night, then you’d better get out. And I mean now, Kira.”

This time she didn’t even think about arguing.

She got out.

Chapter 7

Lorenzo paced back and forth on the terrace of his townhouse, his phone glued to his ear. “Nothing?” he demanded, not caring how he sounded. “Nothing at all? Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure.” The deep, gravelly voice of his half-brother, Nero, was barbed. “You think I’d miss anything? When it comes to taking Dad down, I’m on your side, remember?”

Lorenzo stopped pacing, staring sightlessly over his Central Park view, at the lights coming on in the park and in the skyscrapers around it, the clear, deepening blue of the sky tinged with hints of orange and pink as the sun went down.

“There has to be a digital trail of some sort,” he insisted, frustration coiling tight inside him. “You can’t move money these days without leaving some kind of footprint behind you.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t leave one.” Nero’s tone was flat. “Because if he did, I would have found it.”

“Are you sure?”

Nero was silent.

Lorenzo’s jaw tightened. It was a stupid question. Of course, Nero was sure. The guy was a technical genius, and if he couldn’t find a digital footprint it was because there wasn’t one.

“He must have gotten someone to cover his tracks then.” Lorenzo tried to lock down the frustration that burned in his gut. “Someone very good if you can’t find it.”

“There are people out there who could,” Nero allowed. “Fuck knows he wouldn’t have been able to do it himself, not when he’s such a fucking Luddite.”

Lorenzo let out a breath, turning from the view of the park and scanning over the terrace reflexively, making sure everything was ready for Kira’s arrival.

He’d gotten Stacey to organize a special outdoor setting for dinner tonight, and whoever she’d gotten to do the decor had excelled themselves; the table was set with a white cloth, and there were crystal glasses and silver flatware. Rustic wooden dining chairs had been softened with silk cushions, and a number of tea lights glimmered in colored-glass holders.

A lattice pergola framed the dinner table, fairy lights threaded through it, and not far away was a big wooden daybed piled high with more silk cushions. Near the daybed was an ice bucket full of ice and a bottle of vintage Krug, and a table with some champagne flutes at the ready.

Lorenzo’s gaze settled on the daybed and his cock hardened, a fantasy of having Kira spread out naked on it already playing through his head.

But this isn’t about your fantasies, remember?

No, of course it wasn’t.

It had come to him in his office yesterday, that if he didn’t want to make his loss of control with her into a giant mistake, he was going to have to think of some way to turn it into an advantage instead. And because he was good at turning mistakes into advantages, it had only taken him a couple of seconds to settle on the perfect way.

He hadn’t considered using sex to build her trust and loyalty to him, but since sex was now on the table so to speak, he didn’t see why he couldn’t.

After an initial debate with himself about how to organize the evening, whether to have dinner first, maybe book a fancy restaurant, or whether to head straight to the bedroom, he’d decided in the end to go with dinner first.

It would be good to know a bit more about her, discover what was going on inside that beautiful head of hers. Find out what made her tick. Not for himself of course, but so he could build a bond between them. Women liked that conversation with their sex after all.

The main thing he had to keep in mind, though, was that Kira was a means to an end, and that end was all about taking his father down for his mother’s sake.

It had nothing whatsoever to do with what he wanted for himself.

Or what you need?

There was nothing he needed. Not a single thing. Not anymore.

“Maybe we’re focusing on the wrong person,” Lorenzo said, turning over a few thoughts in his head. “Maybe it’s not Dad we should be looking at. Clearly he’s got some help from someone. Perhaps we should be looking around for who that might be.”

“Shit,” Nero muttered. “That’s a good point. I think I have an idea about where to start.”

Lorenzo did, too. “If you’re thinking Ivan then we’re on the same page.”

“That bastard.” Nero sounded pissed. “Looks like I’ve got some digging to do in that case.”

“You could try that angle.” Lorenzo leaned back against the parapet, his brain ticking over, another idea slowly taking shape. “But I have a better plan.”

“Oh?”

“One that won’t risk any suspicion coming down on us.”

“Hey, if you’re worried about me getting caught—”

“I’m not worried about that.” Because he wasn’t; Nero was very, very good at what he did. “It’s more a case of why risk any more suspicion when we don’t need to?”

There was a silence.

“What are you talking about, Lorenzo?”

Lorenzo allowed himself a grim smile. “I’ve got someone close to Ivan who might be able to be of some use to us.”

“Who?”

But he didn’t want to name Kira, not yet. Not until he was sure he could get her on their side. “Let me see if I can make it work first.”

Nero muttered a curse. “This is no time for you to be fucking cagey.”

At that moment, the door to the terrace opened and his housekeeper put her head out. “Miss Constantin is here, Mr. de Santis.”

“I’ve got to go,” Lorenzo said to Nero. “I’ll let you know what’s happening.” Without waiting for his half-brother to reply, he hit the disconnect button. “Show her up, Janet.”

“Sure. How long do you want me to stay this evening?”

“We only need dinner served, so bring that up in half an hour. You can go after that.”

Janet, a laconic, older Scotswoman, gave a brisk nod and disappeared back downstairs again.

Lorenzo folded his arms and waited, staring at the door, a hot hungry feeling rising slowly inside him. A hunger that had nothing whatsoever to do with food.

It had only been a day since Kira had walked out of his office yet, for some reason, he’d felt every one of the hours, minutes, and seconds that had passed since. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so sexually obsessed with a woman.

You really can’t?

No, this had nothing to do with Katie. With her it had been about so much more than sex. He’d been obsessed with her and not simply her body, though that had been pretty obsession-worthy. She’d been warm and giving, always happy to see him, always happy to spend time with him. Always concerned about him and interested in what he’d been doing. That kind of emotional generosity had been so lacking in his childhood and in his family as a whole, he’d lapped up Katie’s adoration of him like cat with a bowl of fresh cream. It had been so good to feel needed by her. If only he hadn’t needed her in return. Because if he hadn’t—

He cut the thought off dead. No need to dwell on past mistakes. They were over and done with, and he couldn’t change them now. What was important was not repeating them, and that, at least, he had well in hand.

The door to the terrace opened and a figure appeared in the doorway.

A figure that turned into Kira, stepping out onto the terrace, shutting the door closed behind her.

Lust hit him like a sucker punch, driving the breath from his body. Because she wasn’t in one of the little pencil skirts, loose blouses, and pairs of low heels she wore to work. Tonight she wore a simple white silk slip dress that followed the slender line of her figure as if it had been poured on. The hem was perfectly modest, fluttering around her knees as she came closer, the neckline dipping between her breasts but not too deeply. A virginal dress almost, if it wasn’t for the way the silk pulled taut across her small round breasts and swirled like liquid around her hips. If it wasn’t for the fact that there was nothing but pale skin beneath those narrow straps, alerting him to the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Her hair was loose for a change, falling in platinum blonde waves around her shoulders, and on her feet were a pair of high heeled sandals that were nothing but one silver strap over her toes and another buckled securely around her narrow ankles.

She wore no jewelry, her makeup minimal, nothing but mascara and a slick of gloss on those beautiful, pouty pink lips of hers.

She looked like a virgin sacrifice, a princess, an angel.

The only color to her was in her eyes, the deep, clear azure of the darkening sky above the terrace.

“Is this your good girl look?” He let the rough edge in his voice bleed through since he couldn’t be bothered trying to hide it.

Kira stopped in front of him. She was holding a white satin clutch in one hand while the other lifted toward her mouth and then dropped away at the last moment in a nervous-looking gesture. “Kind of.” She made an awkward movement with the hand holding the clutch. “I hope it’s okay. I didn’t know if we were going out or . . . or what.”

He studied her fine-boned, delicate face, watching the ebb and flow of color on her cheekbones, the flicker in her blue eyes. She seemed uncertain, which was good since it gave him the advantage.

He tilted his head, watching her. “Are you nervous?”

She gave a small laugh, her gaze sliding past his and toward the park. “It’s that obvious huh?”

He hadn’t expected her to acknowledge it, and the fact that she had surprised him. It also turned him on. “Yes.” He gave her figure a slow, sweeping glance. “It’s obvious.”

A faint warm breeze had started up, bringing with it the scent of exhaust fumes and grass and hot earth and asphalt. It made her dress flutter, flattening the silk over her breasts and making the outlines of her nipples clear.

“Sorry.” She shivered and rubbed at her arm, looking resolutely out at the park and not at him. “I don’t know what’s happening here.”

“I think it’s pretty clear what’s happening here. You’re going to be my good girl, tonight. Aren’t you?”

Her gaze flicked to his fleetingly and then away again. “I . . . suppose.”

He watched her, gauging her reaction. That wasn’t genuine reluctance he’d heard in her voice, because she’d agreed to it yesterday. In fact, she’d been desperate to and he’d seen that desperation in her eyes. No, this was something else. A challenge maybe? A pretense so he’d chase her?

“What do you mean you suppose?” he asked. “You didn’t wear a white silk dress that I can see your nipples through just because you didn’t want this.”

She blinked, giving a little start. As if the words had shocked her.

Interesting.

Her gaze came to his once more, and he recognized the spark that was glowing in them. The same spark that had been there when he’d held her up against that door yesterday and told her exactly what he was doing to do to her.

Desire kicked hard inside him.

“I can’t wear a bra underneath this thing,” she said, a slightly thickened edge in her voice. “The straps are too thin.”

Okay, so she was admitting nothing. But the way she was looking at him . . . Yes, they both knew that she was lying. Did that mean she wanted him to push her harder?

He held her gaze this time, pinned her with it, showing her that he’d give that to her if she wanted it. “I like you being nervous, Kira. I like you being on edge. But what I don’t like is you pretending you didn’t wear that dress without a bra because you wanted to be sexy for me.”

Color flooded her face. “No, that’s not—”

“Are you wearing panties?”

Her eyes widened, her pale skin flushing an even deeper red, the blue glow of her eyes intense. “Of course I’m wearing panties.”

Aren’t you supposed to be having dinner first? Before you get into this?

It didn’t matter what came first. He wanted her desperate for him, eager to please him, and if this was the quickest route to that, then that’s the route he would take. It had nothing whatsoever to do with his rapidly escalating desire. Of course, it didn’t.

He looked into her eyes, caught by the intensity of the color. Fascinated by how different she was now to the pale creature who’d come into his office that first day. “Take them off.”

“What? Now? Here?”

“Don’t argue, just do it.”

She looked away again. Her free hand had dropped to her side, still clenched in a fist, while the knuckles of her other hand were white against the satin of her purse.

His heartbeat had accelerated, the blood rushing in his veins, his muscles tightening in anticipation. This felt important. He wanted her to obey him and he wanted it very much indeed.

No, you don’t. You want her to challenge you.

Bullshit. He wanted obedience. Needed it for his plan to work. He had to test her so he knew for certain that she’d do whatever he asked her to and without question. That was all.

A moment passed, the sounds of the traffic drifting up from the street loud in the air, along with the constant hum of the city, music, voices, and sirens. The familiar sounds of a New York evening.

The tension in the atmosphere pulled tight.

All his focus had narrowed to the woman standing in front of him with her gaze turned from his, so virginal in her white dress. So painfully beautiful.

Every muscle was taut, his fingers curling unconsciously into fists.

He wanted this. He needed it. And right now, whether it was her obedience or her challenge, he didn’t care.

“Kira.” He said her name softly, a seduction. “You wanted to be my good girl, didn’t you? So. Take off your panties.”

Slowly, her gaze came back to his, something hot and bright glittering in the depths. Then her expression relaxed, and her mouth curved very slightly. “No,” she murmured.

Adrenaline surged and he’d pushed himself away from the parapet, taking a couple of unconscious steps toward her before he could stop himself.

She didn’t move. Didn’t back away. She simply stood there, watching him from beneath her lashes as if fascinated, that faint smile taunting him.

He wasn’t in the mood for games, and he didn’t like being played. He liked being teased even less. Yet that didn’t stop his dick from getting harder or his heartbeat from getting even faster.

Jesus, what was she doing to him?

“If you don’t take them off right now, you’re fired,” he said coldly, attempting to regain some control of the situation.

Her chin lifted, the spark in her eyes glowing, the slight smile curving one side of her lovely mouth deepening. “Then enjoy the sexual harassment suit I’ll be bringing against DS Corp. I know I will.”

An uncontrollable pulse of excitement shot all the way down his spine, and he didn’t have the first clue as to why. There was just something about that wicked smile and the gleam of in her eyes . . .

You like her challenge.

Yes, but he shouldn’t. It should be the very last thing he should like. Yet desire gripped him by the throat, squeezing him tight, and he almost lost it. Almost went over there to rip her panties off himself.

But he managed to hold on. Just.

If she was going to push him, then he would push back. Hard.

“Take them off.” He looked into her eyes. “Unless you’re scared. Is that why you’re teasing me, little girl? To cover the fact that you’re afraid?” He kept his own voice quiet. “Because if you can’t handle this, all you need to do is turn around and leave. I’ll get a car to take you home. Nothing will happen if you refuse, I promise.”

Her smile faded, but not that hot, blue spark in her gaze. It was electric, making him realize, with a sudden jolt, that he actually didn’t want her to leave. Not at all.

Which means she’s got the power this time.

Christ. So she had. She’d stolen it from him, with her white dress and her glowing sapphire eyes. She’d made him want, and now he was trapped by his own need.

Another long moment passed, and he could barely breathe, the pressure of desire crushing all the air from his lungs.

Finally, Kira let out a breath, then moved over to the parapet, placing her purse on it. She reached up underneath her dress and eased down what turned out to be a thong in lace almost the same pale color as her skin. The material glittered as she stepped out of it, like it had been embroidered with diamonds.

She straightened, the thong dangling from her finger. “There. Happy now?”

Relief filled him, and he couldn’t speak, holding his hand out wordlessly instead.

But Kira shook her head. “Oh no, you want them?” The naughty smile was back. “You have to come get them.”

He shouldn’t give in. He shouldn’t. Yet he was, because he was already moving over to where she stood before he’d even made a conscious decision, reaching out to take the thong from her finger. The fabric was silky and warm from her body, and he had an intense urge to lift it to his nose and inhale her scent.

“Be careful with them.” Her gaze didn’t even flicker as it held his. “The beading is delicate and took me forever to do.”

He blinked and looked down at the pale silk in his hand, at the tiny glittering beads sewn in intricate patterns over the front of them. What? She’d embroidered these herself?

“I did what you wanted,” she went on, her voice turning soft and husky. “Now, it’s your turn. First, I’d like a drink, and then I’d very much like it if you fucked me.”

* * *

Oh God, why had she said that?

Kira gazed up at him, his eyes full of storms, a mirror to the chaos of emotion that was careening around inside of her.

What the hell had gotten into her? She wasn’t supposed to be challenging him or teasing him. She was supposed to be doing what he said.

You know what’s gotten into you.

Okay, so she did.

She’d spent the whole day battling the urge to call him up and cancel. Not because she didn’t want to spend the night, but because she did. And the last six months had been all about not doing what she wanted just because she wanted it.

Indulging herself in a night with him ran counter to everything she’d been trying to achieve and seemed like the very antithesis of controlling herself.

She’d already been nervous and uncertain when she’d arrived, doubting her decision to come, and then, when she’d been shown up to the terrace and she’d seen all the candles and the table prepared for dinner, her nervousness and uncertainty had deepened even more.

She’d expected this to be all about sex, not what looked to be a date. But clearly Lorenzo had other ideas. It had made her wonder what more he wanted from her, because whatever it was, it was more than likely she wouldn’t be able to give it to him. She’d never been able to give anyone what they wanted, not her parents, not her teachers, not her friends at college, no one.

That thought had only fed into her nervousness, because the last thing she wanted to do was to be put in a position where yet again she was going to disappoint someone.

Especially not him.

But then he’d reminded her that she was supposed to be his good girl, and just like that her uncertainty and nervousness had faded as a rush of intense excitement had filled her.

She hadn’t meant to tease him. She was supposed to be controlling her volatile emotions, and yet she hadn’t been able to stop herself from taunting him a little, too carried away by that excitement and by her own desire for him.

Had she screwed it up by teasing him? By defying him?

Remember what happens when you forget yourself.

The nervous tension in her gut was getting worse and she braced herself for what was to come. He’d change his mind, she was certain of it. He’d send her away, decide he didn’t want her after all. She was supposed to be good, she was supposed to behave herself, and not doing what she was told was definitely not behaving herself.

He was standing in front of her, her panties in the palm of one hand. He wore simple dark charcoal suit pants that sat low on his lean hips and a plain black business shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing tanned skin and sleekly muscled forearms.

It did not help that he was gorgeous, just . . . gorgeous.

She couldn’t stop staring into his stormy gray eyes, looking to see if she could see the lightning there. But there was nothing but rain for now, rain and thunderclouds.

His dark brows lowered, his expression stern, making everything inside her curl up tight with distress.

She had ruined it, hadn’t she? God, she should never have opened her big fat mouth.

Lorenzo’s sharp gaze searched her face, making her feel vulnerable and exposed, which did not help calm her one iota. Then unexpectedly he lifted his free hand and cupped her cheek, his touch warm and gentle.

For some reason, it turned her to stone.

“You are scared.” His voice still held that roughness she’d heard in it before, but now it was softer, blunter. “Why?”

The question shocked her, because she hadn’t thought he’d noticed. Hell, hadn’t she been telling herself just before, when he’d issued his own taunt, telling her to leave if she was scared, that he was wrong? That of course she wasn’t scared? She was teasing him because she couldn’t help herself, because she’d gotten excited and couldn’t resist provoking him.

But . . . he was right. It was fear. All that nervousness and uncertainty and not wanting to let him down.

It made her feel even more vulnerable.

She wanted to turn her head, pull away, but the warmth of his palm against her cheek stole her breath. There had only been one other time in her life when she’d experienced such gentleness and that had been at the garden party all those years ago, when he’d put a Band-Aid on her cut after the wine glasses had fallen on her.

He must have seen her reluctance, because the look on his face hardened, even though his hold remained gentle. “Tell me, Kira. That’s an order.”

Do you really want to tell him? Do you really want him to know how badly he affects you?

Something locked in her throat and this time she did pull away, wanting to put some distance between them, turning and moving over to where the beautiful daybed, piled high with pillows, stood. Her dress moved caressingly over her bare skin as she walked, and she concentrated on the feeling of the cool silk instead of the emotion blocking her throat.

He didn’t call her back, and she didn’t turn, sitting down on the daybed and tucking the white silk beneath her with hands that trembled.

She should have told him, should have obeyed him. Because that’s why she was here, wasn’t it? To obey his orders and please him at the same time as she pleased herself. Yet doing so would reveal the extent of her vulnerability to him, and she wasn’t ready for that. Not when she hadn’t quite grasped it herself

It didn’t help either that it was clear he didn’t think much of her.

She’d been with men who’d despised her before, back in college when she’d been manically trying to prove every single one of the accusations her parents threw at her, true. Drinking and partying and screwing around. She’d told herself that she was happy, that doing whatever the fuck she liked had made her feel free, but it hadn’t.

Those mornings when she’d woken up in some stranger’s bed with a hangover and no memory of the night before, she’d felt the opposite. Trapped by who she was, by her parents’ expectations, by all her failures. By her ADHD. By her entire life.

Pity it had taken the deaths of two people—her friends—to make her understand how destructive her behavior had been. God, if only she’d thought about that before she’d gotten into the car that day. But she hadn’t. She’d failed her semester and so she’d decided her parents, and her father in particular, could go screw themselves. She was dropping out of college, end of story. Of course, she hadn’t been able to wait to tell her father the happy news, picking up her phone to text him as she’d raced down the New Jersey Turnpike, not thinking that maybe texting and driving wasn’t a good thing . . .

The sound of a popping cork jolted her out of her thoughts, bringing her attention back to Lorenzo as he poured some champagne out of the bottle he’d just opened and into two glasses that sat on the low table nearby. Then he picked up the glasses, coming over and handing one to her without comment.

Kira didn’t look at him as she took the glass, sipping at it and letting the bubbles of the champagne fizz on her tongue, the dry yeasty taste of it delicious. Trying to ignore the rush of heat that went through her as he sat down beside her.

“You went to a lot of effort.” She gestured toward the table and candles. “Just for sex, I mean.”

He shifted, angling so he could face her and leaning back against the arm of the daybed. “Is there a reason why I shouldn’t make an effort?”

Kira took another sip of her champagne then looked down at the glass she held in her hands, watching the bubbles rise of the surface and condensation bead on the glass. “It’s not as if this is a date. You don’t even like me.”

There was a silence.

The air was warm, the sounds of the city around them filling the night air. The last few rays of sun were touching the buildings, sending glitters everywhere like disco balls in a nightclub, the sky gradually fading from blue into streaks of orange and pink and red.

Kira lifted her head and stared at the sky, because it was beautiful and it was easier to look at that than to face the man sitting next to her and see the truth in his eyes.

Attempting to ignore the part of her that wanted him to disagree. To hear him say, “Of course, I like you.”

But he didn’t.

“What makes you think I don’t?” he asked instead, sounding genuinely curious.

She kept her gaze on the sky. “Isn’t it obvious? You’ve been treating me like dirt since the day I started. Getting angry with me for absolutely no reason. Snapping at me. Judging me. Calling me out on my behavior when I’ve done nothing but do whatever task you set for me. I told you I was different, that I’d changed, but that didn’t seem to matter to you. So, yeah, I don’t think you like me one bit.”

He was silent a moment, as if contemplating that. Then he said, “Why does it matter? Do you want me to like you?”

You do. Of course, you do.

Her jaw hardened. Maybe once she had, but again, she wasn’t ten years old, a little girl holding out a paper crane for his inspection and desperate for a smile. She wasn’t that pathetic, not anymore.

“No,” she said firmly, to herself and to him. “I was only curious as to why you’d go to all this trouble for me.”

“It was no trouble. I got Stacey to organize it.” His voice was cool. “I thought you might appreciate something to eat before we did anything else.”

So he’d gotten his secretary to do all of this. He hadn’t actually had any hand in it himself.

She didn’t know why that disappointed her, since getting his secretary to organize flowers and lights was a nice gesture. It was almost as if she wanted it to mean more than that, which was impossible. He was her boss for a start, and then there was the mission she was supposed to fulfil for her father.

Nothing to do with being afraid that even if Lorenzo did want more from you, you wouldn’t be able to give it to him anyway.

No, nothing to do with that at all.

“Thank you,” she said. “Dinner is always good.”

Another silence.

Then he said, “Kira.”

She kept her gaze on her wineglass. “Yes?”

“Look at me.”

It was an order, no question, and she was here to obey him. So she turned her head and met his intent, gray stare. His face was set in hard, uncompromising lines, stern, harsh even. He looked like he never smiled, never laughed.

But she knew that he did, because there had been that smile at the woman who’d flung herself into his arms. And she remembered how those arms had closed around her and held her close as if he never wanted to let her go . . .

God, how she wanted someone to do that. Hold her tight. Keep her close. She wanted to be someone’s, because despite what the rest of the world thought, she hadn’t been anyone’s at all. Her parents had washed their hands of her when she’d failed school and apart from insisting she go to college, had basically left her to her down devices. She’d been given things instead of hugs, money instead of love and total freedom instead of boundaries. Which was most people’s idea of heaven, but it wasn’t hers. Because all that the things and money and freedom told her was that no one cared.

No one cared enough to put their arms around her and tell her it was okay. No one cared enough about her behavior to tell her what was acceptable and what wasn’t. No one cared enough to tell her they loved her despite how she’d failed at everything she did.

But who’d ever want to do that with a woman like you? This is the best you can hope for and you know it.

Her throat tightened, but she ignored it. She couldn’t let him see how pathetic she was. Not him, not this man who already didn’t like her very much. “What?”

“Something’s bothering you. What is it?”

His stare was as focused as a laser beam, the same way he’d stared at her when he’d asked her why she was afraid. She hadn’t answered him then, and she didn’t want to answer him now.

“It’s nothing.” She lifted her glass and took another sip of champagne.

He didn’t look away. “It’s something. Tell me.”

And all of a sudden, she was angry, at him and this ridiculous simulacrum of a date. It felt . . . dishonest. Like he was taunting her with something she couldn’t ever have. As if she was freezing and could see a fire through the window, but he wouldn’t let her come inside and warm herself.

“Why should I?” She didn’t bother hiding the sharp edge to her voice, not that she could have even if she’d wanted to. “I mean, seriously. You don’t like me and sure, you want to fuck me, but why bother with a drink and conversation if you don’t give a shit?”

Chapter 8

Lorenzo narrowed his gaze. She sounded angry, and certainly the gleam in her blue eyes wasn’t desire, not this time. Neither was the flush in her cheeks.

He studied her, something twisting inside him that he refused to call curiosity.

She sat there in her white silk dress, with her white curls around her shoulders, everything about her pale except for her eyes and those prettily flushed cheeks.

Yes, she was angry, just like she’d been scared before, when he hadn’t been able to stop himself from cupping her cheek, from asking her what it was she was so afraid of.

He’d let her pull away then, telling himself he wasn’t interested. But naturally enough, he’d been lying.

She’d been scared and now, in another quicksilver change of mood, she was angry, and he wanted to know why.

Had it been the mention of Stacey organizing the lights and candles? Because he’d thought he’d seen hurt cross her face when he’d mentioned it. Or was it simply the fact that she’d accused him of not liking her? And if it was that, why should it bother her what he thought of her?

He didn’t deny the accusation, because she wasn’t wrong. He didn’t like her.

It’s not her. It’s because she gets to you and that’s what you don’t like.

“You don’t like me either.” He met her gaze, ignoring the thought. “What are you so angry about?”

A flash of surprise crossed her face. “I . . . never said I didn’t like you.”

“But you don’t. I’m rude and insensitive. I’m an asshole. Apparently.”

The spark in her gaze intensified. “Yes, well. You are.”

He ignored that, too. “What was it, Kira? You don’t like the lights and candles? Or you don’t like the fact that Stacey organized it?”

Her jaw tightened. “This isn’t a date, Lorenzo. It’s a booty call. Don’t try to make it into something it’s not.”

It was the first time she’d said his name, and he felt desire gather inside him at the sound of it in her mouth. He liked it when she called him Mr. de Santis. He liked it even more when she called him Lorenzo.

“What if I want to make it into a date?” He wasn’t quite sure why he was arguing with her, since a booty call was exactly what this was. “I told you that you were here for me so what if that’s what I want?”

She looked down at her hands again, silent for a couple of moments. Then she said, “I guess I’d have to suck it up, wouldn’t I?”

It wasn’t what he expected her to say, and the passive note in her voice irked him. Then he realized why. He’d expected her to keep arguing with him, keep fighting with him. And she hadn’t.

He was quiet a second, the remains of that adrenaline rush when she’d refused to take her panties off still echoing through him. He couldn’t tell himself that he didn’t like her challenging him, couldn’t tell himself it didn’t turn him on. Why else would he have shoved her up against the door in his office three days ago?

“Is that what you always do, Kira?” he asked. “You always suck it up? Because I think that’s bullshit.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, well, sucking it up is what I do now.”

“Why?” he demanded. Then a thought hit him. “Because of your car accident?”

Her head came up sharply. “It wasn’t just an accident. People died. I killed people. My friends.”

He wasn’t supposed to be getting into this. A nice, easy light conversation over dinner was all it was supposed to be about, yet he couldn’t seem to kick the curiosity that had him in its grip. It was her fault, or so he’d heard, and yet he found himself saying, “You didn’t kill them, Kira.”

“Sure I did. I was driving. I was going too fast and I was distracted. It’s my fault, no one else’s.”

There was pain in her eyes, still bright, still sharp. And even though he’d told himself that her deaths weren’t ones he wanted to get involved in, the sight of her hurt made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

He opened his mouth to say something, what he didn’t know, when the door to the terrace opened and Janet came out with the dinner.

Kira looked away, raising her glass to her lips for another drink as Janet bustled around with plates and laying out dishes.

No, it was probably a good thing. He wanted to build trust between them, but he certainly didn’t want to get into hard, complicated, emotional topics. That wasn’t what this evening was supposed to be about. Pleasure, definitely. Reopening old wounds, no.

He got off the daybed, going over to help Janet with serving, and once that was done and Janet dismissed for the rest of the night, he pulled back a chair and gave Kira a glance. “Come and sit down.”

She put her glass down and came over, the fabric of her dress moving like liquid with the graceful sway of her body, and he wondered just what the hell was wrong with him that he was insisting on things like dinner, when he could be stripping her naked and burying himself inside her instead.

But there were reasons for the dinner. He had to keep in mind the big picture, not get distracted his own needs, by things like desire. By curiosity. By pain.

He’d already done that with one woman. He didn’t want to do it again with another.

Kira moved in front of him, sitting down in the chair and allowing him to push it in. He lingered over that, bending slightly so he could smell her hair and the delicate flower scent of her skin just beneath her ear. He paused, strangely caught by the tracery of veins he could see at her throat, blue beneath the surface of her pale skin.

She seemed so very fragile. So very breakable. Yet she hadn’t died in the accident that had claimed her friends. She hadn’t been injured at all, or at least that was what Ivan had told him. But then he knew that some wounds were invisible and that they went deep, and that just because you couldn’t see them, it didn’t mean they weren’t there.

Kira had wounds like that. He knew because he had his own.

“You made a mistake,” he said quietly, before he could think better of it. “Everyone makes mistakes, and sometimes they’re bad ones. But you can’t keep punishing yourself for it. That’s not the way to make your friends’ lives mean something.”

She stiffened but didn’t turn around. “Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do. Not when you know nothing about it.”

“I know.” He stared down at her slender figure sitting in the chair, her pale hair and skin painted in dying streaks of rose and gold by the sunset, not even realizing he was going to say the words until they came out. “I know what it’s like to lose someone. I know what it’s like when it’s your fault.”

He heard the breath go out of her, a soft exhalation rushing under the sounds of the city.

“Your mother?” she asked hesitantly.

Of course, she’d know about his mother. Everyone knew about the suicide of the wife of one New York’s richest businessmen. It had been a scandal that had rocked the headlines for weeks afterward.

But his mother’s death would always be linked to Katie’s. The death that no one knew about, no one but him. And he certainly wasn’t going to talk about that now, not here and not with Kira, so all he said was, “Yes, my mother.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was quiet. “That must have been terrible.”

The gentle sympathy in Kira’s words reached inside him. Touched something in him. It had been terrible, because his mother’s death was yet another to lay at his own door. A death he was trying to atone for by making an example of the man who’d made his mother’s life such hell.

Not that he was going to talk about that either.

“It was a long time ago,” he said dismissively, closing the subject, straightening, and stepping away from her chair. “More champagne?”

Her head turned, and she glanced up at him, and for some reason he knew—he just fucking knew—that she saw straight through him. That she saw exactly what he was doing.

He tensed, ready to tell her that he wasn’t going to be talking about his mother or Katie with her, with anyone, but all she said was, “Yes, please.”

The champagne. She was talking about the champagne.

Air rushed into his lungs, air he hadn’t realized had escaped and he forced himself to turn around and go and get the bottle, act like nothing was wrong and that he didn’t feel as though those blue eyes of hers had just read the contents of his soul.

He didn’t know what was happening. Christ, he needed to take control of this and now.

Grabbing the champagne bottle, he poured them both another glass then sat down, trying to think of another topic of discussion that was reasonably innocuous. He could push her about the fear he’d seen in her eyes earlier, but again, that had caused an uncomfortable response in him, one he didn’t want to revisit.

Then he remembered something.

“This isn’t really dining-table conversation,” he said. “But since I’ve got your panties in my pocket, why don’t you tell me what you meant when you said the beading took you forever to do?”

She blinked at him in surprise, another delicate flush of color staining her cheeks. “It . . . it’s nothing. I shouldn’t have said it.”

“There’s quite a lot of things you shouldn’t say and yet you do anyway, aren’t there?”

Her blush deepened, but she didn’t look away. Instead her chin lifted. “Yes.”

Defiance again, and yet she’d admitted it. Interesting,

He lifted his glass and took a sip. “Why?”

“You already know the answer to that.” She was sitting straight-backed and rigid in her chair, her knuckles white around her glass. “Because I never pay attention, and my behavior is terrible.”

So much for innocuous.

Lorenzo gave up the pretense that he wasn’t curious, studying her intently. Watching her lovely face. That electricity that always surrounded her was humming again, her eyes full of the most fascinating emotional currents. Yet she was sitting so rigidly. Almost as if she was afraid to relax, afraid to let go.

Why? What did she think would happen? She’d let go with him in his office, up against the door, screaming her pleasure against his palm. It had been good, so good that she’d agreed to another night, yet now she was uptight again.

His curiosity deepened, widened. A hunger he couldn’t deny.

You shouldn’t be asking her questions. You shouldn’t be getting interested.

Sure, but this wasn’t for him, was it? It was all in aid of taking his father down.

“But you agreed, when I told you those things,” he murmured. “Are you saying I’m wrong?”

She glanced down at the glass in her hand. “The beading on that thong took me forever to do because I embroidered it myself. I make all my own lingerie. It’s something I’ve been doing for years.”

It didn’t answer his question, but he had a feeling she hadn’t finished, so he remained quiet, watching her.

“I like sewing, embroidery, that kind of thing.” She looked at him suddenly, her stillness so at odds with the vibrant emotion in her eyes. “It gives me something to do with my hands and keeps me focused.”

She was trying to tell him something, he could sense it. Yet there was something else that was holding her back. The wildness in her eyes made it difficult to untangle all the emotional threads, but he thought he saw fear.

“Why do you need to be focused?” he asked carefully.

Emotion crossed her face like a flash of sunlight across still water. Then it was gone and she shut down again. “It doesn’t matter.”

Did she want him to push? Because he would, he had no problem with pushing.

“It matters.” He studied her, not caring now that he wasn’t supposed to be curious, that he wasn’t supposed to give in to the part of himself that always craved more. “Tell me.”

She said nothing, her attention on her glass, her shoulders even more rigid.

“This is an order, Kira.” He let the edge of command bleed into his tone, wanting to see her response to it. “Remember. You have to obey.”

Strangely, the stiffness in her posture eased, her shoulders loosening, as if his order had released some kind of tension inside her.

A feeling swept through him then, one he didn’t recognize, but it deepened his own need, intensified it. Turned his grip on his wine glass, white-knuckled.

She lifted her gaze, looking at him. “I need to have something to focus me because I . . . find it difficult. My brain can’t settle on any one thing for very long, and I have poor impulse control. It’s also hard for me to pay attention to people, and I hate having to sit still. But when I have something to do, something I can do with my hands, then I find I can focus better. The more delicate the fabric, the greater care I have to take and that helps.” She paused. “I don’t know if you remember, but when I was a little girl, you showed me how to make paper cranes. I guess the lingerie is basically the equivalent.”

Lorenzo was conscious of a certain amount of shock. There were many things he’d expected her to say, but that was not one of them. “I remember,” he murmured, thinking of the bouncy little girl who was never still and who was never quiet. Who didn’t listen and who didn’t pay attention. “You reminded me of my brother . . .”

“If your brother had ADHD then I can see why.”

He couldn’t take his gaze from her face. He’d always suspected there was something not quite right with her behavior. “Did your parents—”

“Ever do anything to help me?” she interrupted flatly. “No. They just thought I was . . .” She stopped.

“They thought you were what?” he prompted, his chest clenching suddenly tight. Because he’d made a number of judgments about Kira Constantin and her history, and it looked as if every single one of them was wrong.

She let out a soft breath and when her blue eyes came to his, the storm of emotion in them made him feel like someone had punched him in the gut. “They thought that if they ignored my behavior, it would get better. But it didn’t. They didn’t understand when I tried to tell them why I found things difficult, because they didn’t want to understand. They wanted a perfect girl, and I was as far from perfect as it was possible to get.”

* * *

It was fully dark now, the candlelight flickering over Lorenzo’s stark, uncompromising features. Those sharp-edged cheekbones and hard jaw. That cruelly beautiful mouth. That laser-focused attention that swept like a searchlight into the darkest corners of her soul.

She hadn’t wanted to tell him about her condition. It was a weakness she’d hoped to keep hidden, yet that simple order had dragged it out of her with pathetic ease. Almost as if she’d been waiting all this time to tell him, which made no sense at all.

Sure, he’d once been kind to her when she’d been a child, but he wasn’t kind now, that was for sure. Telling him felt like ripping a layer of skin off, leaving all her nerve endings exposed. And he was standing by, with a whip.

There was a silence now, and the urge to fill it was overwhelming.

“My grades in school were terrible,” she went on, because she couldn’t stop herself, the words pouring out of her whether she wanted them to or not. “And I told Dad I didn’t want to go to college, but he made me. Told me I wasn’t trying hard enough and that I had to try harder. But no matter how hard I tried, I just kept fucking failing.” Without thinking, she picked up her fork and began fiddling with it, a dim part of her brain warning her that she was supposed to sit still, that she was supposed to control herself. But she couldn’t focus on that voice though, the urge to speak too strong. “So I thought, fuck it, you know? Why bother trying? Never worked at school, so what the hell was the point in trying at college? So I didn’t try. I did whatever the hell I wanted to.” She thumped the end of the fork rhythmically against the table, then tried it against the stem of her wineglass to hear the difference in sound.

“Kira.”

Lorenzo’s voice was low and cold, cutting through her mental and physical restlessness like a sword through silk.

Her head jerked up, and she met his gaze, the ice in it an odd kind of relief, like cool water on a painful burn. “What?”

“Be still.”

She didn’t know why that cold order made everything inside her begin to slow down and calm. Perhaps it was just that the command was simple and clear. Enough that even a girl like her, who found following instructions difficult, could manage it.

Her hand stilled, the fork sliding from her fingers and onto the table. She didn’t look away from him. Couldn’t. It was as if his gaze calmed the chaos inside her, made it all make sense somehow, and that if she looked away, everything would get tangled up again.

“Good girl,” he said quietly.

The oddest feeling swept through her, a warmth. Relief and gratitude. “Am I?”

He didn’t even blink. “Do you want to be?”

“Yes.” She said it unhesitatingly, the word vibrating with passion, with desire, and she trembled, because she hadn’t meant to say it, still less make it sound so needy. God, she was slipping. She wasn’t controlling herself like she should be. The therapist had given her exercises, but she couldn’t remember any of them. “I want to be g-good. I really do. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be . . .” She trailed off as his cool gaze swept over her, calming the fever inside her.

“You are good.” The calm authority in his voice made her feel even quieter. “You’ve been good ever since you got here.”

“No, I haven’t. I didn’t take my panties off when you asked.”

“I liked that you didn’t.” He didn’t hesitate, didn’t look away. “I like it when you challenge me.”

“But I didn’t follow orders.”

“You pushed the boundaries, yes. But you like doing that, don’t you? It excites you.”

She blinked in surprise that he’d seen that. “Yes. I suppose it does.”

“Why?”

Good question. She’d never thought too deeply about the reasons her brain urged her to do the things it did. It was enough of a struggle just resisting those urges. “I . . . don’t know.”

He tilted his head. “Perhaps you like testing those boundaries so you know where they are.”

“Why would I do that though?”

“To feel safe maybe?”

Kira blinked again, the thought a striking one. She did like explicit instructions and precise rules, because they made expectations absolutely clear. It was much easier to control her roving brain and focus when she knew what was expected of her.

That’s why you teased him when you first arrived. Because you didn’t know what he wanted from you and that made you anxious. And when you get anxious, it’s harder to control yourself.

She swallowed, part of her disturbed that he’d been able to understand her better than she did herself, while another part of her was strangely relieved. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. What gave you the idea?”

“Because boundaries make it clear what’s expected. And that’s reassuring.”

Had he read her mind? He must have. There wasn’t any other explanation for how he’d lifted her own thought clean out of her head.

She found she’d curled her fingers around her fork and was leaning forward, curiosity overwhelming her. “Did you have lots of things expected of you, too?”

The candlelight made his eyes glitter, and for some reason the usual restlessness she constantly had to battle was gone. She almost felt as relaxed as she did when she had a piece of silk in one hand and a needle and thread in the other. But her focus wasn’t narrowed on sewing beads, it was narrowed on him.

“My father expected . . . certain things.” Lorenzo’s expression turned distant. “And he was very clear about what those things were. Pity I didn’t listen to him.”

Kira clutched her fork tightly, staring at him in helpless fascination. “Why? What did he tell you?”

Lorenzo didn’t move, but she had the feeling that she’d suddenly come up against one of those boundaries, and she was pushing at it. “We’re not here to share secrets,” he said coldly.

“But I told you all about—”

“No.”

A quiver ran through her. She wanted to know his secrets. She suddenly wanted to know them desperately. But how to get him to give them to her? Perhaps if she gave him one of her own, he might reciprocate?

“It was my fault, the car accident,” she said, before she could stop herself. “We were going clubbing and I’d just failed the semester. So I decided I was going to drop out of college. Of course, I couldn’t wait until after I’d finished driving. I had to text Dad right then. So I did and . . .” She stopped, her throat closing.

She couldn’t remember much before the accident, only the words of her text to her father, a big middle finger emoji glowing on the white screen. Then a loud noise and the world turning upside down and blackness.

Lorenzo said nothing, watching her.

“I shouldn’t have been texting. I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off the road. I shouldn’t have been driving while I was so angry.” She was babbling, and she knew it. “But I didn’t even think, because I never did. I was careless. I wasn’t paying attention. If I’d only controlled myself. If I hadn’t let my anger get to me. If I’d only thought and paid attention, my friends might be alive, and I wouldn’t—”

“Stop.”

The rush of words halted like he’d closed a hand around her throat, and she blinked, breathing fast, horrified to find there were tears in her eyes.

Slowly, he pushed his chair back from the table. “Come here.”

She blinked fiercely. Dammit, she didn’t want to cry, not in front of him. She was supposed to be better at controlling her emotions than this. Hadn’t she learned anything? “Why?”

“Don’t ask questions.” The intensity of his gaze was inescapable. “Do as you’re told.”

She didn’t want to. She felt too unstable, the emotions gripping her too raw, and she was afraid of what he might see. Telling herself she didn’t care what he thought of her didn’t seem to work, and she didn’t want to lay herself bare in front of him. Not when she was healing from wounds that went deep enough already.

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak this time.

His dark brows drew down and he tilted his head, searching her face. “You’re afraid. Why? And this time, Kira, you will tell me.”

A spark of anger caught, becoming a flame, licking up inside her, wild and hot, and again, she found herself opening her mouth and letting the words spill out. “Why should I? You said we’re not sharing secrets, yet you said it only after you’d gotten all of mine. I don’t see you spilling your guts, so why should I tell you a damn thing?”

“Because I don’t want you to be afraid.”

“Too bad.” It was an admission. She should have said that she wasn’t afraid, but Kira was too angry to notice, too overwhelmed by the toxic mix of disappointment and her own guilt and shame sitting heavy in her gut. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you made such a big deal of how much you despise me.”

A bright emotion flashed in his eyes, her own anger mirrored back. “I never despised you, Kira. Sure, I admit I had an opinion on you based on your past behavior, but I got that wrong. Completely and utterly wrong. Is that what you want to hear?”

She shook her head, hating herself for the tears that kept blurring her vision. “No, too late. You judged me from the minute I walked into your office, and you never even gave me a chance to set the record straight. But that’s okay, that’s pretty much what I’ve come to expect.” She shoved her chair back, barely conscious of what she was doing, knowing only that the storm of emotions inside her was going to break, and she didn’t want to be anywhere near him when it did. “No one else ever listened to a word I say, so why should you?” She stood up jerkily.

Instantly Lorenzo’s expression turned thunderous. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Where do you think? I’m going home.”

“Why?” He came to his feet in one fluid movement, his hands on the table, his eyes gone silver. “Because you’re afraid? Afraid of what? Of me?”

There was no point in trying to control herself now, not when she’d well and truly lost it, so Kira didn’t even bother. “Yes, of course I’m afraid of you, you asshole. You’ve been nothing but cold and mean and cruel. You hurt me, Lorenzo.” She was shaking now, and she couldn’t stop. She was always like this when her emotions overwhelmed her. “And I can’t have people who hurt me in my life right now. I can’t deal with people who mess with my feelings, period.”

His gaze turned fierce, lightning in his eyes, silver and jagged. “Yes, I judged you. Yes, I was wrong. And I’m sorry I hurt you. What more do you want?”

But she couldn’t bear it. She had to get away from him, had to put some distance between them, find her control again. Her emotions were hurricane winds, and she was going to be blown apart if she wasn’t careful.

She turned and started heading for the door to the stairs, her vision blinded by the tears she couldn’t control, hating herself for losing it like this, for making a complete fucking mess of the situation, the way she always did.

But before she’d taken more than a couple of steps, strong hands grabbed her by the hips, and she was jerked back against the hard wall of Lorenzo’s chest. “I didn’t say you could go,” he growled in her ear, his breath warm on her skin.

She tried to pull away, the heat of him making her strangely frantic. “I don’t care what you said. Let me go.”

His hands tightened, turning her to face him. Then one arm slid around her waist, heavy as an iron bar, while his other hand was in her hair, pulling her head back. And then his mouth was on hers, hot and fierce. His tongue pushed into her mouth, stealing any protests, stopping all her arguments, forcing her to focus on one thing and one thing only: him.

His kiss became harder, hotter. Forceful. Demanding. Taking her mouth with a concentrated mastery that gave no quarter, allowed no escape. His hand in her hair tightened while the arm around her waist dropped, his palm sliding over her butt, cupping her through the silk of her dress, pulling her even more firmly against him.

She could feel the hard press of his erection against her groin and the stunning of heat of his body, like a furnace warming her, setting her alight. He was all around her, his hand in her hair and his tongue claiming her mouth, holding her so tightly.

She could taste his passion and something else that she thought was desperation, and all the whirling, bewildering emotions began to stop and slow. Began to draw tight. A shudder went through her. He drew her head back even further, his kiss turning even deeper, ravaging her mouth like a marauder.

The shudder became a shake as the hard knot of emotion changed into something far more recognizable, something she knew she shouldn’t give into, not again. Yet she was powerless to stop it as all that feeling erupted into a blaze of need that incinerated what little control she had left, burning it to ashes.

Kira lifted her hands without a second’s thought, shoved them into Lorenzo’s short black hair and held on, returning the kiss with a ferocity and a demand equal to his own. He made a growling sound in his throat, ramping her desire higher, hotter.

She came up on her toes, clinging to him, pressing herself against him, kissing him wildly, the most intense heat sweeping over her skin. It felt as if she was burning alive and he was a cool mountain lake she wanted to dive into to put out the flames.

It wasn’t what she was supposed to be doing. None of it was. She was supposed to be in control of these emotional storms, to not let them affect her thinking or her decision-making processes. And yet there was no control to be had. It was gone.

He had taken it.

She became frantic, biting at his lower lip, her arms winding around his neck, her body arching against him, searching vainly for relief from the intensity of the feeling, for some way to escape it. But there was no escape. He was everywhere, and she was drowning in him.

He made another rough sound and then she was being lifted into his arms and they were moving, Lorenzo taking a few steps back until his chair was behind him. Then he sat down, carrying her with him so she was sitting in his lap, facing him.

Kira barely noticed. She reached for the buttons of his shirt, pulling at them as she kissed him over and over again, tasting the champagne he’d been drinking, tasting the heat that burned between them. God, she had to touch him, put her hands on his skin.

Something tore as she grabbed at the fabric of his shirt, but she didn’t stop. She wanted him, oh God, she needed his touch, his hands, his cock. Now. Now.

Strong fingers wrapped around her wrists, holding her still. “Kira.” His voice was thick and rough and dark, making her shiver and shake like a tree in a hurricane. “Slow down.”

“No. I need to touch you.” She was panting, breathless, straining against his hold. “Please, Lorenzo. Please, please, please . . .”

The lines of his face had drawn tight, and he made no effort to hide the hunger in his eyes. And yes, there was the lightning, burning silver.

She wanted it to strike her. She wanted to be lit up, electrified.

“And you will get that.” His grip on her wrists tightened. “But I need you to slow down.”

She was shivering so badly she couldn’t stop. He was so damn hot, the heat of him seeping through the fine wool of his suit pants, scorching the bare skin of her inner thighs. He was so hard too, she could feel the flex and release of his muscles as she shifted on top of him, unable to sit still. She wanted to do so many things, to touch, to explore his body, taste him everywhere.

“I can’t.” Her voice was scratchy. “Please, I can’t. I can’t control this. I need you. I have to touch—”

His grip on her altered, one hand taking both her wrists and holding them easily, while he lifted his free hand, his finger pressing down on her mouth, stopping her words.

She froze, looking into the hurricane in his eyes, trembling all over.

“Yes,” he said, his voice flat with command. “You can.”

She was shaking her head before he’d even finished speaking, denial in every part of her, totally at the mercy of the desire that beat inside her and unable to hold onto it.

Lorenzo pulled her crossed wrists close, so she was leaning against his chest, his eyes burning into hers only inches away. “Yes,” he repeated, insistent. “You can.”

She sucked in a breath, feeling like she was on fire. Like if she didn’t move, didn’t get her hands on him, she was going to go up in flames, burn to ashes right here in this chair. “I don’t know how,” she croaked against his finger. “I can’t—”

“It’s very simple.” He lowered his finger, his gaze inescapable. “You give the control to me and I will do it for you.”

The words caught at her, resonated inside her. Lorenzo de Santis was a man who was never at the mercy of his emotions, who was never bewildered or overwhelmed by them. He was never distracted, and he always paid attention. He wouldn’t get blown away by the storm surrounding them. He would remain in control.

You can trust him.

She didn’t question the thought, didn’t even blink at it. She simply nodded her head as if giving him all the control was the most natural thing in the world.

“Good,” he murmured, that faint rough edge in his voice caressing her. “That’s a very good girl. Now, I want you to sit very still for me.”

The trembling hadn’t abated, the fire between her thighs, the hunger gripping her making it difficult to speak. “I can’t,” she forced out, panting. “I have to move. I have to.”

But he was unrelenting. “If you move, you won’t get what you want. So focus for me, Kira. Keep still, and you’ll get your reward.”

Her breathing was coming in short hard gasps, the scratchy wool of his pants pressing against her inner thighs and the sensitive folds of her pussy, driving her insane. But she tried. She held his gaze as she stopped shifting and moving, the shakes becoming more intense the stiller she became.

He didn’t look away as he released her wrists, as if he knew she needed to maintain eye contact. And he didn’t look away as he grasped the neckline of her white silk dress then ripped the entire thing right down the middle.

She gasped as the warm air hit her feverish skin, the sudden violence of the movement and the sound of tearing fabric shocking her, exciting her further. “Lorenzo,” she whispered, her muscles tensing, wanting to move, forgetting what she’d promised him. But he remembered, because of course he did, and before she could do anything, he’d pushed the white silk from her shoulders and with a quick, deft movement, he guided her hands behind her back then wrapped the silk around her wrists, pulling it tight. Binding her.

A soft choked sound escaped her, but it wasn’t because she was scared. No, it was the opposite. The feeling of being constrained, of being contained, made her want to weep with relief. Now she wasn’t going to forget herself and touch him before she was supposed to, because every time she did the binding would pull tight in a subtle reminder. It was going to help her. It was going to make it easier. Boundaries always did.

He gripped her jaw in one hand, holding her still, his gaze pinning her in place. “Is that better?”

Kira couldn’t speak. All she could do was nod and blink back the tears of relief that stung her eyes.

He held her for a second longer, bending to deliver one hard, deep kiss, before letting go of her jaw and leaning back in the chair, watching her. His gaze was as hot as a blow torch as he scanned her body in one long, slow pass. Her skin tightened and prickled, her nipples gathering into hard little points, the throb of desire low and heavy between her thighs.

She could hardly sit still she was so desperate, but the binding around her wrists kept reminding her that she’d promised to, so she remained as still as she could while he took his time looking at her.

“Good girl.” He lifted one hand, his fingers brushing the hollow of her throat before trailing down. “Such a very good girl for me.”

Fire rippled out from his touch, racing over her skin, and she groaned at the sensation, made even more intense by the approval in his voice. It made her determined to do what he asked her. She could do this. She would.

His hand trailed lower, between her breasts and down over her stomach. “Keep very still now.” His gaze never left hers as his fingers moved lower and lower. “This is going to be difficult for you, but you can do this. I know you can.”

She couldn’t tear her gaze from his face, from the certainty in his eyes. Then those wandering fingers slid through the pale curls of her sex, finding the slick flesh that waited for him, and she shuddered, unable to stop from crying out as he stroked a leisurely finger down the center of her pussy and then back up again.

The pleasure was so intense, so overwhelming that her vision blurred, her throat closing up. “Lorenzo . . . Oh God . . .” Apparently, he hadn’t been kidding when he said it was going to be difficult for her. Because it was. Then it became even more difficult as he stroked her again, his finger moving over her, finding the hard nub of her clit and circling around and around.

A groan tore from her throat, every part of her aching to move, to grind herself down on his hand, to rip open his shirt, his pants, find his cock, find his bare skin. Lick him and kiss him and taste him. Gorge herself on him and the pleasure he was giving her.

But she’d promised him she wouldn’t move, and so she stayed as still as she could. “More . . .” The word was a hoarse scrape. “Please . . . I want . . . God, I want . . .”

“I know.” His voice was cool water running over her hot skin. “And I’ll give it to you. Just keep still a bit longer. Can you do that for me? Can you do that, beautiful girl?”

Her thighs were trembling. His touch was so slow, lazy almost. As if he had all the time in the world. And she had to clench her teeth against the vicious grip of pleasure, hold fast to her determination, to the core of stubborn strength that was somehow there inside her. She wasn’t going to move until he said she could. She just fucking wasn’t. She was going to succeed at this one thing even if it killed her.

Lorenzo shifted, moving his free hand into the small of her back, applying a touch of pressure that tilted her hips forward. Then he eased one finger inside her, pushing in deep.

A wail broke from her, her back arching, the silk pulling tight around her wrists as her arms jerked. Then he slid another finger inside her, stretching the delicate tissues of her sex, making her pant his name over and over again.

The pleasure was annihilating, the pressure of having to keep still making it more acute somehow. She felt afraid all of a sudden, of what might happen when this intensity broke, of being crushed beneath it or blown apart by it.

“L-Lorenzo,” she stuttered as his fingers slid in and out of her in a relentless driving movement. “Please . . . I can’t . . . hold on . . .”

And he must have seen her fear, because he sat forward, so his body was right up against hers, the tips of her hard nipples pressing against the cotton of his shirt, his gaze inches from her own. His palm at the small of her back pressed down, his fingers spreading out, holding her, supporting her as the fingers of his other hand thrust up inside her. “It’s okay.” That dark voice, cooling her, calming her. “You can let go now. You can lose control with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

Another moan tore from her throat as she obeyed him without thought, giving in to the devastating pleasure, to the need to move, shifting her hips in time with his hand, riding his fingers. Then his thumb found her clit, and she began to lose touch with reality entirely.

Words spilled out of her, desperate, begging words, and she let them, too far gone to care. “Please . . . Lorenzo. Please. I can’t . . . I need . . . I have to . . .”

His thumb slicked over her clit, again and again. “You need to come? Is that what you need?”

“Yes. Oh God, yes.”

His hand moved faster, his fingers pushing deeper, harder. The sheer ecstasy of it blinded her, crushed her, tore her apart.

She cried out as the unrelenting pressure became too much, feeling herself start to disintegrate, suddenly terrified. But his arm was iron around her waist, his hand in the small of her back an anchor, holding her down, grounding her.

Keeping her safe as the world exploded behind her eyes and the night around them echoed with the sound of her screams.

Chapter 9

Kira flung her head back and her spine arched, a scream of ecstasy escaping from her, heedless of the buildings around them and the fact that anyone might be watching. Lorenzo could feel the tight heat of her pussy grip his fingers, convulsing around him as she came. It was all he could do to hold himself still, to not claw at the zipper on his pants and get his cock out, plunge into all that slick heat.

He couldn’t tear his gaze from her face. Her expression was incandescent, igniting with abandoned pleasure. She was a pale flame between his hands, all that electric energy he’d sensed in her set free, blazing into the night.

She’d given herself over to him, let him take the control, surrendered to the pleasure he’d given her, and he’d never seen anything so erotic, so mesmerizing in all his life.

He felt stunned. Like he’d been hit over the back of the head with a brick.

He hadn’t meant for it to end like this. He hadn’t meant for her to shove her chair back and walk out on him. And he certainly hadn’t meant to go after her, pull her into his arms and kiss her so savagely.

He’d been angry and for once the anger was directed where it should be—at himself. Because her confession had reminded him that he’d known something was up with her way back when she’d been a kid. But he’d never done anything about it. He’d never talked to Ivan, never made sure she’d gotten help. And even now, years later, when she’d walked into his office, all he’d remembered were her behavioral issues. All he’d seen was a college dropout who still hadn’t handled herself, who’d caused a terrible accident that had killed people.

He hadn’t bothered to question himself as to whether those assumptions he’d made about her, those judgements, were right. No, he’d been arrogant and had simply assumed that they were.

Then he’d done what he’d sworn never to do to another woman ever again, not after he’d failed his mother, after he’d failed Katie. He’d hurt her.

He’d felt the shame of it eat away at him as Kira had flung it in his face, and when she’d gotten up to leave, all he’d been able to think about was stopping her, because he couldn’t bear the thought of her going without him being able to make it right.

It had been instinct that had made him grab her, because clearly she wasn’t going to stay to listen to him make a proper apology. But then she’d trembled in his arms and need had gathered tight inside him, a burning desire to soothe the hurt he’d given her, to make her feel better.

So he’d turned her in his arms and met the furious glow in her blue eyes, and he’d known in that moment there was only one thing she’d listen to. And it wasn’t his voice. So he’d kissed her. Hard.

She’d shuddered then blazed to life like a tree struck by lightning.

Control had been vital in that moment because all he’d wanted to do was throw her down onto the daybed and get inside her as quickly as he could. But this whole week he’d fallen back into old patterns, taking what he wanted without one fucking thought of her, and he didn’t want to do that now. He was supposed to not be so selfish anymore, which meant that if he wanted to soothe the hurt he’d caused, he had to make it about her.

So that’s what he’d done and now he sat there, his breath sawing in and out, the air around him saturated with the scent of her perfume and the delicate musk of her arousal. Her back was still bowed, her white-blonde hair in a riot down her back, the perfect curves of her bare breasts rising and falling in time to her own breathing.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her and he was so hard it almost physically hurt. But he made himself take it slowly, leaning forward and tightening his arm around her waist, holding her close as he pressed his mouth to the damp skin of her neck, allowing himself a single taste to calm his own desperation.

Yet the salty/sweet flavor of her skin did nothing to calm anything. It flooded his mouth, reminding him of how starved he was. How much he wanted to bury himself inside her and cover himself with her heat.

Fuck. He always wanted more, that was his problem. He was always hungry, never satisfied. When he was a kid, his father had been distant and detached, regarding his oldest son’s neediness as a weakness. Be an island, he’d told Lorenzo. Be hard. Be strong.

But Lorenzo had always found that difficult. He could never manage the detachment his father wanted from him, and that had made him angry. Made him headstrong and rebellious.

His mother at least, had given him the attention and love he hadn’t gotten from his father. Until he’d demanded too much from her and then she’d pulled away from him, too.

No one survives the demands you make on them.

He gritted his teeth as he pulled away the white silk binding her wrists and she relaxed with her head on his shoulder, trying to ignore the thought as the warm weight of her settled down into his lap. Then he made himself sit slowly back against the chair, cradling her.

He’d managed to control himself for her. He could keep doing it for himself, too.

She made a husky contented sound and every muscle in his body drew tight as she shifted slightly, nuzzling against his neck.

“I think you must be magic,” she murmured, her breath against his skin. “No one’s ever made me feel like that before.”

He knew he shouldn’t look at her, that one glance into her glowing blue eyes might compromise his control utterly, yet he couldn’t help himself. Because of course he wasn’t magic. He was an asshole who’d lost his temper and treated her like crap. Who’d judged her and hurt her.

Her cheeks were a deep rose, her mouth full and red from where he’d kissed her. But the look in those amazing eyes of hers . . . heat and wildness and electricity, all unguarded and laid bare.

She doesn’t know what you really are.

As if to illustrate the point, her forehead creased. “Are you okay?” She lifted a hand to his face, her fingers brushing his cheek bone in a gentle caress. “You look sad.”

That touch, along with the question, jolted him all the way to his soul.

No one had asked him that in a very long time, and certainly no one had touched him so gently, not for years. Something inside him shifted in response, one of the ropes that kept his hunger leashed fraying, the threads breaking.

Katie was the last person who asked you that question.

A pale curl slipped over one shoulder as she trailed her fingertips along his jawline, slowing as they brushed along the curve of his lower lip, sending an arc of electricity straight to his aching cock. There was concern in her eyes, a concern he fucking didn’t deserve. “Lorenzo? What’s wrong?”

A terrible urge gripped him then. He wanted to tell her things he’d never told another soul, about Katie, about what he’d lost and how it was his fault. Tell her he understood her burdens because he carried the same ones. Then he wanted to lose himself in her body, in her heat, forget the grief and weight of those burdens, forget his control, for a little while at least.

But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. Those urges were selfish. He’d be using her to make himself feel better, exactly the way he’d used Katie to make himself feel better. About his mother’s descent into drink to block her pain and his father’s emotional unavailability.

Katie’s love had been a comforting fire, warming him up.

But Kira . . .

She’s a fucking bonfire and she’ll burn you to ash if you let her.

That was the problem though, wasn’t it? Because there was a part of him that wanted to burn. The emotionally stunted part of him who’d been hungry for a single kind word from the man who’d given him life. And who’d never gotten it.

“John Donne was mistaken,” his father had told him when he was ten years old and crying, because the old prick had missed his birthday for the third year in a row. “A man should be an island. A strong man shouldn’t need anything from anyone. Are you going to be that kind of man, Lorenzo? Or are you going to be a needy little bitch? Because I have no time for needy bitches, son. I’m already married to one.”

Lorenzo slid his fingers around Kira’s wrist and held on, looking down into the deep, intense blue of her eyes. “Nothing’s wrong.” His voice was harsh, grating, but he made no attempt to soften it. “You haven’t eaten. You must be hungry.”

A blue spark leapt in her gaze in another of her quicksilver mood changes, from concern to annoyance. “I’m not hungry, and you’re still being an asshole.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.” She shifted on him, sitting up so she was facing him once more, her thighs spread on either side of his, the movement of her bare body in his lap pressing against his aching cock, making him hiss through clenched teeth.

At the sound, the flickering spark in her eyes intensified, became something hotter. “I’m naked. I’m naked in every way. But you’re not.” Her hands lifted to the collar of his shirt, fingertips grazing his skin as she slipped open the top couple of buttons. “You could be naked with me.” Her voice had dropped to a soft murmur, the tips of her delicate fingers brushing his throat. “Just for tonight.” Another button undone, then another. “I won’t tell anyone your secrets and I know you have them, Lorenzo.” Those exploring hands had parted the fabric of his shirt, and they were on his chest, touching, stroking. But she wasn’t looking at what she was doing. She was looking right at him. “You didn’t used to be so cold. You didn’t used to be so cruel. I remember all those paper cranes I used to show you. You were patient with me. You were kind. So what happened?” She undid the last button, her hands sliding over his chest, over his abs, making all his muscles tighten in response, her blue eyes inescapable. “What happened to you?”

A kind of shock pulsed through him. He hadn’t expected her to remember those moments he’d sat with her and anyway—patient? Kind? He hadn’t been like that at all. He’d been angry. Arrogant. Selfish and entitled.

She must have seen his expression, because her mouth curved in the kind of smile that felt like a sweet burst of summer heat. “You think I didn’t remember? Come on, you must have known how into you I was.”

Kira, always at the door whenever he arrived at the Constantin household. Kira, pulling at his sleeve, wanting to show him the latest paper crane she’d folded. He’d never understood her obsession with them back then. Never understood her obsession with wanting to show him either.

“Kira—”

“You liked my paper cranes, Lorenzo. You told me I was good at folding them. No one ever told me I was good at something before, but you did. And you never got impatient with me, never told me to shut up. You always listened.”

Her fingers stroked over his skin, and he was so hard he could barely think.

You don’t have to say a word. Fuck her. That’ll distract her.

Yet he made no move, his gaze caught by her blue eyes, by the intensity in her lovely face.

You could be naked with me . . .

There was a pressure inside him, building and building. A pressure that had to be released somehow and even though every part of him wanted to open his pants and shove himself inside her, he still didn’t move.

“I lost someone,” he heard himself say, even though he hadn’t meant to speak. “Years ago. I lost someone, and it was my fault.”

Shock flickered over her face, to be replaced by an expression so full of sympathy, it felt like his soul was slowly being torn in two. “You’re not talking about your mother this time, are you?”

Everyone had put his grief down to his mother’s death, and he’d let them, because he’d been grieving her, too. “No. Though . . . Mom’s death was part of it.”

Kira lifted both hands and cupped his jaw. “Who did you lose, Lorenzo?”

He wanted desperately to pull away, because her touch only added to the agony. But he couldn’t make himself do it. It was as if he needed her fingers on his skin in order to go on. “Katie.” Grief and pain leaked into the name even though he tried hard not to let it. “Her name was Katie.”

Kira blinked, her expression turning distant. “Katie . . .” she echoed softly. “Was she the woman you met at Bryant Park?”

At first, he didn’t understand. “What?”

“I saw you.” Kira ‘s thumbs stroking along his jawline in an absent movement. “Years ago. I think I was . . . fourteen maybe? I saw you in the street, and I followed you because I . . . Well, I don’t know why, I just did. And you ended up in Bryant Park, and I watched you meet a woman.” She focused on him all of a sudden. “You looked at her like she was the most amazing thing on earth, and I . . .” She stopped.

Jesus Christ. He remembered that day. He’d met Katie for lunch after their first night together, and he hadn’t been sure she would come. But she had . . .

And Kira had been there. She’d seen them.

“No one knew about her,” he said. “No one knew I was seeing her, and I didn’t want anyone to know, not until I was ready.”

“Why?”

“Because Dad manipulated people, used them to get what he wanted. And I didn’t want him using Katie. She worked at a cafe near the DS Corp. Tower. I used to go there every morning and she’d make my coffee and talk to me. She wasn’t intimidated at all by me and I liked that.” He could hear his own voice getting quiet, the warmth of those happy memories coloring the words. “I asked her out eventually, and she said yes. We saw each other a lot. She . . . was so generous, so open. Warm. Being with her was like sitting outside in the sunshine.”

The look in Kira’s eyes flooded with concern, with sympathy, with a shared pain. “Oh . . . Lorenzo. I’m so sorry.”

He should have stopped then, but for some reason, he couldn’t. “I wanted to marry her. I’d gotten the ring, and I was all set to ask her. And then . . . my mother died.” He couldn’t bear to add that that had been his fault, too, so he didn’t. “I was upset. So I called Katie because I needed . . . someone. She was crossing the street right outside my apartment when a car hit her. It was dark, the driver just didn’t see her.” He could still remember the sounds of the sirens, getting closer and closer, the lights flashing through his windows. He’d thought the sirens would pass by, but they hadn’t. “She was killed instantly.”

Kira’s tracing fingers on his jawline became gentle, but this time she didn’t speak. She simply stared at him, sympathy in her electric blue gaze.

“It was my fault,” he said. “I shouldn’t have called her. I should have left it until the next day. But I didn’t. I didn’t mention Mom right away when I called because I didn’t want to say it over the phone. But then Katie said that she was tired and wasn’t feeling well, that she was going to get an early night and could we leave it till tomorrow. I said no. My mother had died, and I needed her. So of course she came.”

Again, Kira said nothing. She didn’t tell him that it wasn’t his fault. She knew that didn’t matter. What mattered was the feeling of responsibility, and words never eased that burden.

Yet there was understanding in her eyes, a shared acknowledgement of the pain they both carried.

A silence fell and he didn’t break it. He’d come to the end of what he had to say.

Her thumbs moved on his skin, stroking him. After a moment, she slid one hand around to the back of his head, her fingers curling into his hair. Then she lowered her head slowly, staring at him, and he knew what she was offering him. He read it in her eyes.

The time for talking was over. But there was something else that could distract from the hurt, at least for a little while.

She closed the distance between them, her mouth settling over his.

The kiss was like a tank of gas thrown over the bonfire of his smoldering desire, making it leap high and burn hot, making need wrap a hand around his throat, choking the life out of him.

Lorenzo gripped her, his fingers pressing so hard into the soft flesh of her hips he’d probably leave marks. And he kissed her back, his tongue sliding along hers, tasting and exploring her the way she was tasting and exploring him.

Her hand in his hair tightened, gripping him harder, her mouth opening wider, angling to kiss him deeper. And, ah, fuck, there it was. The rich, heady taste of her passion, her wildness, her electricity.

Fuck the grief. Fuck the pain. And most of all, fuck his control.

She was the fire, and he wanted to throw himself into the flames, burn so fiercely and so bright there would be nothing left.

Firming his hold on her, he surged up out of the chair, two strides taking him over to the table. Then he pushed everything on the tabletop off it with one powerful sweep of his hand. Plates smashed, glasses shattered, their meal scattered everywhere. Flowers were soaked in the champagne, the candles snuffed out from the water that splashed from the broken vases.

It was a mess and he didn’t give a shit. He just didn’t care.

He laid Kira down on the table, on her back, then he spread her legs as wide as he could and held them open. Keeping his hands planted firmly on the insides of her thighs, he bent his head and buried his face in her pussy.

She shuddered, her back arching, his name a strangled gasp. He could feel her desperate fingers reach into his hair again, but that was pretty much all he was conscious of.

Nothing else mattered but the heat of her, the taste of her. Salty and musky and so delicious he couldn’t think of anything else but wanting more.

He pushed his tongue deep inside her, relishing the heat and the sweetness, feeling her shudder, listening to her groan. Her fingers tightened as he licked straight up the center of her pussy with the flat of his tongue, pausing to tease her clit for a moment, before licking back down. Then pushing into her again, sliding his hands beneath her and tilting her hips so he could go even deeper.

She gave a sob, her hips lifting to meet the movements of his tongue, then panting out his name, over and over.

He lost himself. Eating her out like she was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

She came against his tongue, flooding his mouth, crying out into the night, but he didn’t stop because he didn’t want this to end. This time he used his fingers as well and nearly lifted her hips completely off the table as he wrung another climax out of her. He growled as she sobbed and shuddered, because it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

It never was.

His hands were shaking as he lowered her back down on the table and wrenched open the button on his pants. Shaking as he yanked down his zipper. But he was too far gone to care.

He hauled her to the edge of the table and he didn’t wait, spreading her open with his fingers before thrusting hard inside her.

“Lorenzo!” Her voice was hoarse and ragged, her whole body trembling. “Oh my God . . .”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t even speak, his mind blanking as the wet heat of her engulfed him, gripping him so firmly it was like she never wanted to let him go.

He shuddered as the sensation arrowed up his spine, and he was moving hard and fast because he couldn’t stop. He just couldn’t make himself stay still. Thrusting deeper, harder, gripping her hips to hold her down, to keep her in place as he drove himself inside her.

She called his name again, her hands reaching toward him, and it was so good, but he wanted her closer. He wanted her pressed against the entire length of his body, pinned underneath him. He wanted to cover her, feel her writhe against him, have her panting in his ear, her teeth against his flesh, biting him in desperation. Giving him all her ferocious, wild passion, burning him alive.

Lorenzo stopped deep inside her, sliding his hands up the backs of her thighs, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist. Then he put his arms around her, holding on to her as he lifted her up and off the table, turning toward the daybed and striding over to it. Sweeping away the silk pillows, he laid her across it, following her down onto it, pinning her there on her back with his cock deep inside her and the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress.

Instantly she lifted her arms to him, winding them around his neck, her thighs wrapped tight around his waist, holding him to her. And her mouth found him, opening beneath his and letting the taste of her flood into him, ramping his hunger even higher.

He began to move, sliding out of her then thrusting back in, hard, deep, and savage, as if he wanted to drive her right through the mattress of the daybed. As if he could escape the past by fucking them both into unconsciousness.

He’d never let himself go like this before, never hammered himself into a woman like this, not giving a shit about control or restraints or lines or boundaries. Only wanting to get as deep as he could inside her.

She didn’t stop him. At first, she tried to match him, lifting her hips and ripping open the remaining buttons of his shirt, sliding her hands down his back and digging her nails into his spine. But he moved too fast and too hard, and he didn’t want to slow for her to keep up, so he didn’t, crushing her beneath him, pinning her so that all she could do was keep her legs wound tight around him, her nails scraping his skin and her panting breaths in his ear as he pushed harder and deeper.

She was slick with sweat, her skin slipping against his and he knew the climax was going to kill him. He could feel it building inside him, the relentless drag of it like a tidal wave, and he let it come, wanting to be crushed under the weight of it, to have all thought extinguished by the power of it.

And as it began to roll over him, he was aware enough to grab one of her wrists and pull her hand down between their straining bodies, to guide her fingers down to her clit and hold it there, pressing down as he thrust.

She shuddered, sobbing into his neck, her pussy tightening like a fist around his cock, and the tidal wave began to break inside him. A roar escaped him as he felt it hit, the intense pleasure crushing him into pieces, shattering him, obliterating him, until there was nothing left of him, not even dust.

* * *

Kira lay beneath him, struggling for breath, stunned by the aftereffects of her fourth orgasm in a row. Lorenzo had collapsed on top of her, and perhaps it should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t.

Who needed air anyway? God knew, she didn’t. Not after that. And hell, she was still seeing stars.

His breath was harsh in the night air, the warmth of it against her neck, his body a hot, hard mountain lying on top of her. But she didn’t want to push him away. She wanted to hold him close, soothe his pain.

She’d had no idea of the grief that had he’d been guarding and even now, thinking about what he’d told her about Katie made her eyes prickle with tears. But it felt wrong to take his grief on to herself, to cry for a woman she didn’t even know, so she blinked them back and lifted a hand to his head, letting her fingers push gently through the thick, damp silk of his hair, while with the other hand, she stroked up and down the bare skin of his back. Beneath the cotton of his shirt, he was slick with sweat just as she was, and she liked the feeling of it against her palm.

His breathing began to slow and calm down, and she liked that she could give him this, too. He’d given her such pleasure already when he’d taken her on his lap and touched her, and she wanted to do the same for him. Help him in some small way.

Nothing could take away the grief or the feelings of blame; she’d learned that lesson well herself. But it was possible to forget the pain for a little while . . .

Lorenzo shifted and she felt the daybed mattress depress on either side of her head as he levered himself up, looking down at her. His straight black brows were lowered in a frown, and the rim of dark charcoal around his iris had darkened, but she could still see jagged streaks of silver threading through it, evidence that his desire was still simmering despite what they’d just done.

God, he was beautiful. Every part of him.

“Are you okay?” He sounded hoarse. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Hell, she didn’t sound much better. “I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” He leaned his weight onto one hand as he ran the other down the length of her body, his gaze following as if he was checking to make sure she was all there. “I was rough.”

“It’s fine, honestly.” But his touch awakened oversensitive nerve-endings, making her shudder and causing his frown to deepen.

He didn’t say anything, giving her one hard, searing look before he shifted again, pulling out of her then easing back and away, turning to deal with his clothes. “Come downstairs.” He tucked himself away and zipped up his pants. “You need a shower or maybe a bath.”

Well, she wouldn’t mind that. The muscles of her inner thighs were starting to ache, and she was conscious of a slight burn between her legs, where delicate tissues had been overstretched. The sensations weren’t bad though. In fact, she liked them.

She sat up, sliding an arm around his lean waist and leaning her head on his shoulder, relishing the opportunity to touch him. It wasn’t the right time to talk about the secret he’d shared with her so all she said was, “You’re amazing. I’ve never had a guy give me four orgasms in a row before.”

“You’ve been seeing the wrong guys, clearly.” He didn’t pull away from her, but there was a subtle tension in his posture.

A tightness gathered in her chest. Was it her? Did he not want her touching him? Had she overstepped the mark by demanding his secrets? Did he regret what he’d told her?

Kira let her arm fall away and as soon as she did, he got up off the daybed, pulling his shirt back around him and doing the buttons up.

She shouldn’t ask. She should let it go. She shouldn’t let it matter to her.

But of course, that was impossible for her.

“I overstepped the mark, didn’t I?” She stared at his uncompromising back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you to tell me anything you didn’t want to.”

His movements stilled. Then he turned to face her, his shirt half undone, revealing the most perfectly sculpted chest and abs she’d ever seen. But it was the look on his face that somehow reached inside her and held on. It was fierce, burning with an intensity that stole her breath. “No. You were right to ask.” He took a step toward the daybed and reached for her, pulling her off it and onto her feet, gathering her close so the bare skin of his chest pressed against hers. “It wasn’t fair of me to hold back.” His eyes as they looked down into hers were silver-bright. “Not when you gave me everything I asked for.”

The tight feeling eased and she leaned against him, her palms pressed to his hot skin. “Well, I know it can’t have been easy to tell me. But thank you.”

There was a second when he simply stared at her, searching her face as if he was looking for something. “I can’t give you anything more than what we have right now,” he said quietly. “You know that, don’t you?”

She blinked up at him, shock arrowing down her spine. “But I never said I wanted—”

“I know. I just need you to understand that up front.”

She was conscious of something sitting heavily in her gut, something that couldn’t be and definitely wasn’t disappointment. Because naturally he wouldn’t want anything more, not after he’d lost the woman he loved. “It’s okay.” She tried to make her voice sound steady and sure. “I don’t expect anything from you.”

His arms were iron bands around her. “I know you don’t, but you should. God knows, you deserve it.”

Do you though? After what you did?

Kira ignored the snide voice in her head. This wasn’t about what she deserved or even what she wanted. This night together was supposed to have been only about sex, and sure, it had turned into something more, something emotional. But that didn’t mean there was anything more than that to be had. Besides, getting involved with someone was the last thing she needed right now, especially someone who made her feel as out of control as Lorenzo did.

“I don’t need anything more,” she said and this time her voice was as steady and sure as she wanted it to be. “What we have now, tonight, is enough.”

His black brows had drawn down, his gaze laser-sharp, as if he didn’t quite believe her. Then the intensity in his expression eased. “Okay. But what I told you about Katie, it has to stay a secret, understand? I don’t want anyone knowing, most especially not my father.”

The words prompted an unwilling memory to flood through her, of what she was supposed to be doing and why she was Lorenzo’s intern in the first place. She was supposed to be reporting back to Cesare, relaying any “relevant” bits of information. What was “relevant” and what was not had never been explained to her, but she was pretty sure that Katie was going to be “relevant”

The thought of passing on Lorenzo’s secret grief to his cold father suddenly seemed untenable. In fact, her whole position as Cesare de Santis’s spy suddenly seemed untenable. She hadn’t thought about it in any great detail before, too concerned with doing a good job so she’d get that start-up money she needed for her kids’ classes. But things were different now.

Before, Lorenzo had been a distant figure from her childhood. An idol, fascinating but unknowable. Now, though, he’d become a man. A man with a past and a grief like her own. Carrying the same burden of blame that she did.

She didn’t want to lie to him. She didn’t want to hide the true purpose of her internship from him.

Kira looked up into his hard, beautiful face. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

Maybe he would hate her for this, but then, she hadn’t found out anything of any interest yet and so hadn’t been able to report anything back to his father anyway.

She swallowed, her throat dry, her heartbeat accelerating. “There’s a reason Dad pushed you into taking me as your intern.”

His expression remained impenetrable, one black brow arching. “Oh?”

Kira took a breath. “Your father wanted me to intern for you so I could report back on anything ‘relevant.’ I . . . don’t know what he meant by relevant, he just told me that I would know when I heard it. I don’t know why he wanted it, either. All I was told was to get closer to you and see what I could find out.” She searched his face. “I haven’t passed anything on to him so far and you have to know that I’m not going to say a word about Katie, I swear it.”

He was silent, his fierce gaze meeting hers for long unaccountable moments. Then he said, “I know.”

Shock arced through her. “You know? You know I was placed with you on purpose you mean?”

“Yes. Oh, not for certain, but I guessed.”

She blinked. “How? Did I give myself away or something?”

“No. I just know my father. Plus, I don’t take interns and Ivan was very insistent. I’ve actually been waiting for a chance to get you to incriminate yourself but certain . . . things kept getting in the way.”

Her cheeks heated. “Yes, well. That’s the reason I didn’t try harder to find something incriminating.”

“You wouldn’t have found anything. Or at least, nothing I didn’t intend you to find.” He stared at her a moment. “What did he promise you?”

“Your father? Nothing. But Dad told me that if I did a good job, he was going to give me some start-up money for a business I want to get off the ground.”

“What kind of business?”

She could feel herself flushing even more. “It’s nothing big. I want to start up some arts-and-crafts classes for kids with ADHD and learning difficulties. You know, give them something to do with their hands, something to focus on. Something to feel proud of once they’ve completed it. It’s something I would have loved as a kid, and if it helps even one child . . .” She trailed off, feeling self-conscious then annoyed with herself that she felt self-conscious. No, it wasn’t a silly idea. This was important. Important to her and the kids she would help.

Lorenzo lifted a hand and tucked a curl behind her ear in a casual, intimate gesture that somehow took her breath away. “Don’t worry about your start-up. I’ll help you with it. But you should know that he has reason.”

The offer of help surprised her, so much so that she didn’t pay quite enough attention to the other thing he said. “What do you mean? Who has reason?”

“My father.” Lorenzo’s fingertips grazed her ear, lingering there. “He has reason to be suspicious of me.”

She felt herself tensing, an odd foreboding winding through her. “Why?”

Silver glittered bright in Lorenzo’s gaze. “Because I’ve discovered the old bastard has been skimming company profits. Which means, of course, that he has to be taken down.”

Chapter 10

Kira’s eyes widened. “You’re certain?”

“Oh yes, I’m certain. I just don’t have the hard evidence I need yet.” He slid his hands down the elegant arch of her spine, settling them over the curve of her butt, her skin soft and warm against his palms.

Touching her was soothing and right now, he needed soothing. Anger burned inside him, along with the acid sting of an old and familiar grief that mention of Katie always brought up. Not that he mentioned Katie. Ever.

He’d broken his silence on her now though, and even though it had hurt, it had been good to say her name, good to acknowledge who she’d been to him, because it had been such a long time since he’d even said it out loud.

But it was only after that he remembered why he shouldn’t talk about such things and especially not to Kira. He should have known, not that it was information that his father could use in all probability, but it was a weakness Lorenzo didn’t want him to know about.

Except . . . maybe his father wouldn’t know.

Lorenzo stared down into Kira’s wide eyes, now almost as dark as the sky above their heads. He hadn’t been expecting her to confess, not at all, but he was glad she had.

It meant she trusted him.

You can use her.

It was what he’d been wanting to do all along, and at the beginning of the evening, he’d had no problems with that. Yet that had been before she’d told him the truth about herself, about the difficulties she’d been trying to overcome.

Before he’d told her about Katie.

They’d shared secrets, and like he’d feared, it had changed things between them.

Yet what else could he do? If he wanted to investigate Ivan’s role in his father’s activities, the best way to do that was to use his daughter. Hell, his father and Ivan were using her to get to him anyway, so if she was discovered, say, searching her father’s office, then she could spin some lie about how she needed information for her own mission. Or she could act like a pretty airhead who’d stumbled into the wrong office.

He couldn’t do it himself, not when they were already suspicious of him. Anyway, the worst that could happen to her was that she might get told off, no big deal. She wouldn’t lose out on the money she wanted for her little business, he’d make sure of it.

No, he couldn’t not use her. He needed that evidence. His father had killed his mother as surely as Lorenzo himself had, and the old prick needed to pay.

“I can’t believe it,” Kira murmured. “I mean, stealing from your own company? Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. All I care about is finding that evidence. He’ll probably find some way of getting out of a jail sentence, but I’m pretty sure he won’t be able to get away with remaining CEO.”

Her darkened gaze searched his face. “What? And you take over?”

“Yes.” He found himself stroking her unconsciously, his thumbs moving back and forth on her soft, silky skin. “He’s always been planning for me to do so anyway, so this will just be earlier than he thought. And of course, his retirement will not be voluntary.”

Her brow creased. “You sound . . . pleased.”

“Of course, I’m pleased. I’ll be fucking ecstatic.” His anger simmered, a constant smolder that had been burning for years. “I don’t want a needy bitch, Lorenzo. I’m already married to one . . .”

Kira frowned suddenly, her fair brows drawing down. “You hate him, don’t you? Why?”

Christ. Was his anger really that noticeable? He’d thought he kept it better hidden than that.

She gave a shiver, and he realized that he wasn’t stroking her anymore, but gripping her hard and probably far too tightly. He relaxed his hands, taking a deep, silent breath and trying to force the fury away.

She was still naked, and he’d torn her dress off her. Clearly, he was going to need to fix that. Shrugging out of his shirt, he held it up. “Put your arms out.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Come on, you can’t distract me that easily. What did he do to you, Lorenzo?”

“Arms.”

Sighing, she did as she was told and he drew the cotton up to her shoulders then concentrated on the buttons. There was no reason not to tell her, and part of him wanted to. He’d told her everything else, so what was one more thing?

“It wasn’t what he did to me,” Lorenzo said as he began to do the shirt up. “It was what he did to my mother.”

“Oh.” She remained still as he fastened the buttons on the shirt, but he could feel her gaze on him. “What did he do?”

And you. You’re to blame, too.

Lorenzo focused on slipping a button through the button hole. “She was from Wyoming and never adjusted to life in New York. It made her unhappy, but Dad wouldn’t let her go back.” Yes, and you know why. “He made her stay in a place she hated, with a husband who cheated on her and didn’t give her any fucking support. He knew she was emotionally fragile, but he treated her like dirt anyway. So she self-medicated with pills and vodka.”

Maybe if you hadn’t begged her not to leave, she might have been happier. Maybe if you hadn’t given your father ammunition to use against her, she wouldn’t have ended up dead.

He shoved the thoughts away, hard. That had happened so long ago, back when he’d been twelve years old, overhearing a conversation he shouldn’t have listened to. Full of fear that the parent who actually seemed to care about him was going to leave.

“Man should be an island, son . . .”

He should have learned that lesson back then. But he hadn’t.

The soft brush of Kira’s fingertips along his jaw made him blink, bringing him back to the present. “He was really that bad?”

“He was worse. I told you that’s why I wanted to keep Katie a secret. He would have used her against me at some point.”

The way he used you against Mom . . .

Kira’s hand dropped to his shoulder, the feel of her palm on his bare skin somehow delivering comfort as well as an electric shock that went straight to his cock. “So this is . . . revenge?”

He hadn’t thought of it in those terms, especially when revenge was an inherently selfish motivation and he wasn’t supposed to be that person anymore. “Not for me. For my mother.”

Her thumb moved on his skin, as if she couldn’t bear to stop touching him. “I can understand that.”

“Good. Because it’s going to happen. You can make sure of that. But . . .” He hesitated, looking into her deep blue eyes. “I am going to need help.”

One fair brow lifted. “What kind of help?”

“I told you I need evidence I can take to the board. But that’s been difficult to find. Mainly because it looks like Dad’s got someone hiding his digital tracks.” He paused, belatedly realizing that she might have something to say about his suspicions regarding her own father.

Her eyes narrowed. “What?”

“There’s only one person who deals with the money side of things and who’ll do whatever Dad tells him to do. And that person isn’t me.”

Kira’s mouth opened, then shut again. “My father,” she said and it wasn’t a question. She knew. “Of course, he’d do it.”

“Yes, that’s what I suspect. But I need to confirm it.”

“How?”

“Any evidence he’d been covering up for Dad will probably be on his computer somewhere. Either at work or at home.”

“And how can you find that out?”

“I can’t. Or at least not without rousing suspicion, and I know Dad’s already suspicious. That’s why he placed you as my intern. I’m sure he thinks I’ve either discovered his little secret or have gotten wind of it, but he’s not sure. He needs proof before he makes a move against me.”

Her frown deepened. “Why would he make a move against you? You’re his son.”

Jesus. She of all people should know how little ties like that meant to some people. Selfish people. The fact that his mother had clinical depression hadn’t altered his father’s behavior toward her. He’d viewed it as something she’d just have to get over, that she needed to harden up. It was a weakness, and if there was one thing his father hated, it was weakness in any form. Especially emotional weakness.

Lorenzo lifted his hands from her skin, cupping her face between his palms. “He doesn’t care about a little thing like that. He demands loyalty, definitely. But there’s only one person he truly cares about, and that’s himself. And he’ll protect himself however he can.”

“So you need to check out Dad’s computer? See if he’s been covering up for your father?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause, her gaze searching. “You’re asking me to do this for you, aren’t you?”

Of course, she’d understand that, she wasn’t stupid. So he didn’t treat her as such. “Yes,” he repeated. “You’re the only one who could get away with it without rousing suspicion if you’re caught.”

The look in her eyes flickered slightly, as if she was weighing something up. Then she said, “In that case, count me in.”

His heart kicked at the simple declaration. At how she didn’t question him for reasons or want explanations. She accepted what he wanted to do and offered to help. Even though it meant ratting on her own father.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” There was no hesitation. “If he’s helping Cesare then he’s breaking the law.”

Christ, she was all in? Just like that? Putting her own family ties at risk as well as the arts-and-crafts classes she was hoping to start up? And those classes were important to her, too, he’d seen it in her eyes.

He curved his fingers under the delicate line of her jaw, pressing them against her smooth skin. “Do you need time to think about it?”

Annoyance flashed across her face. “No. And don’t be so patronizing. I said I would do it and I—”

“I’m not being patronizing, I promise. I just don’t want you to make any impulse decisions that would end up making things worse for you.”

Her mouth opened then shut again, her lips compressing, as if she’d stopped herself from saying something. The annoyance in her gaze died away as quickly as it had come. “Okay,” she said on a long breath. “I understand and I appreciate what you’re doing.” Her gaze focused on him, all of a sudden intent. “But I don’t need to think about it. Dad wasn’t the greatest father anyway, and besides, I want to help. I want to help you.”

He didn’t miss the emphasis and it made something catch inside him, made his chest tighten. “I’ll make sure you won’t lose out, Kira. I’ll make sure you get those classes started. I promise.”

Her mouth curved. “Let’s just see if I can do it first. It’s the opportunity that’s going to be difficult. I could get on his computer at work without him knowing—if I’m careful—but it’s his home office that’s going to be tricky because he’s always in it.”

Lorenzo thought about it a moment. “Don’t worry about the computer at work. That’s too risky because of the surveillance cameras and I have someone who can handle that anyway.” Actually, he didn’t need Kira to search Ivan’s offices. Nero could deal with the issue himself by hacking into it via the DS Corp. intranet. But the home computer—which Lorenzo was pretty sure was going to be where any incriminating files might be—was an issue. Luckily, he had an idea. “Isn’t it your parents’ annual garden party next weekend?”

“Yes. But how is that going to help?”

“You’ll be expected to attend, won’t you?”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“You should. Because Ivan will be too busy with his guests to worry about anyone getting into his office.” Lorenzo stroked his thumbs along her jaw. “Also, I’ll come along too, so if you need a diversion, I’ll create one for you.”

Kira’s attention had dipped, focusing on his mouth, her gaze going smoky. “As long as you let me know what I need to do, I think I can handle that.”

Of that he had no doubt. There was determination in her, he already knew that, and a tenaciousness that equaled his own.

He touched her lips with his thumb. “I’ll give you all the details you need, don’t worry. But before any of that happens, there’s a couple of other things I want to do first.”

“What things?”

Her voice had gone husky and soft, her body pressing delicately against his, and he was getting hard again. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. Not about his father or Katie. Not about grief and pain and anger.

He was tired of the battle, the fight to keep his emotions in check. The war between the hunger inside him and the need not to give into it.

Just for one night, he wanted to not fight. He wanted warmth and pleasure, and the softness of white skin under his hands, silky white hair against his pillow

Just for one night he wanted to be selfish.

Just for one night he wanted Kira.

So he bent his head and used his mouth on hers to tell her exactly what things he meant.

* * *

Five days later, Kira sat on the low leather couch in Lorenzo’s office, watching silently as a massive, black-haired man paced up and down in front of Lorenzo’s desk.

She tilted her head, trying to spot some resemblance between him and Lorenzo, and there should have been some, considering Nero de Santis was Lorenzo’s half-brother. But apart from the black hair and their height, she couldn’t see much that was similar at all.

Nero’s features were harsh, angular, and without the pleasing symmetry of Lorenzo’s. But there was something infinitely compelling about him nonetheless, and maybe that was where the resemblance lay. Both of them held the same kind of dark de Santis charisma that demanded attention. It was there in Nero’s strong jawline, his blade of a nose, and his deeply set black eyes. It was also there in the mesmerizing way he paced up and down, strong and fluid and graceful as some great beast.

Apparently, he’d once been a recluse who never left his house, though whatever his issues had been, they clearly weren’t a problem now.

“Yeah, I can hack into Ivan’s office computer, but what makes you think we even need to bother with his computer at home?” Nero’s dark gaze glittered as he stopped pacing and stared at Lorenzo.

“I don’t think Ivan would keep any records at DS Corp.” Lorenzo leaned back in the large, black executive chair that sat behind his desk. “It’s too risky and besides, Dad’s far too paranoid.”

Kira took a silent breath, trying to drag her attention away from him and the casual way he was sitting, one elbow on the arm of the chair, the other resting on one powerful thigh.

An impossible task, as she’d discovered over the last few days.

Her night with Lorenzo had ended up turning into a full day, that had then led into another night. Which had involved a mad rush back home on Monday morning to get ready for work and grab some more clothes, neatly avoiding her parents and their questions as she went back out the door again. Lorenzo had waited out in his car in the street for her, but she’d made him drop her around the corner from the DS Corp. Tower so they wouldn’t be seen entering the building together.

Still on a sex high, Kira hadn’t really paid attention when Lorenzo had told her that it would be better for both of them if they considered their weekend a one-off and that now their chemistry had been dealt with, they should go back to being boss and intern.

Her head in the clouds, her body humming, she’d simply nodded in agreement. Even when she’d sat at her temporary desk, trying to force herself to concentrate on her list of tasks for the day, she hadn’t fully taken in the implications. In fact, it wasn’t until she’d been called into Lorenzo’s office that afternoon to be given yet another list of things to do that it had hit her.

He hadn’t responded to her smile or her casual greeting. He hadn’t looked at her at all. He’d delivered his orders then dismissed her in exactly the same way as he had when she’d first come to work for him.

All her warm feelings had drained away in that moment, a disappointment she had no right to feel sitting heavy in her gut. It was another instance of her not paying attention, which should have made going back to a purely professional relationship a relief.

Yet as she’d turned around after Lorenzo’s cold dismissal and walked out of his office, it wasn’t relief that she felt. Disappointment sat inside her and continued to sit there as the week had progressed, playing havoc with her concentration even more than her blissed-out state had.

Going into work felt like torture, the minutes she had to sit in that office by herself an agony. She found herself living for the rare moments when she had to meet with him, even though he gave her absolutely no sign that their hot, desperate weekend had ever happened. Treating her exactly as what she was: his intern.

She didn’t know why it hurt, when she’d known right from the start that there could be nothing between them. They’d discussed it and agreed. It had only been a weekend of sex, nothing more. Yet she hadn’t been able to shake the hunger that gripped her whenever he was near. The need for his touch. His arms around her, containing her, taking the control so she didn’t have to hold onto it all the goddamn time. So she could relax and be herself, even if it was for only a moment.

It killed her.

It was killing her now, sitting here while he and Nero discussed their plans to take down their father. Plans she should be listening to, but couldn’t because she kept getting distracted by Lorenzo. By the gloss of sunlight in his black hair. By the stretch of cotton across his broad chest. By the stillness of his posture and the way he tilted his head when he concentrated. By the flash of silver in his eyes.

Nero stopped, turning abruptly, and with a jolt, Kira realized he was staring at her, his gaze dark and hostile. “Lorenzo apparently trusts you, but I don’t,” he stated flatly. “If what you’re doing gets back to Dad—”

“It won’t get back to Dad,” Lorenzo interrupted, his tone cool. “I’ll be accompanying her to this party, so I’ll be able to keep an eye on everything anyway.”

“As long as he doesn’t get suspicious.” Nero didn’t look away from her. “And you don’t get cold feet about Ivan.”

Kira lifted her chin. Finding out her father might potentially be covering up for Cesare de Santis stealing from his own company hadn’t been a shock. It was pretty much something he would do considering he was loyal to Cesare completely. And she didn’t feel any doubts about searching his office for any incriminating evidence, either.

If he’d been breaking the law, then he needed to answer for it. After all, she was taking responsibility for her own mistakes, so why shouldn’t he?

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, staring back at Nero. “But I don’t know you from Adam. I mean, I’m sure you’re a great guy and all, but I’m doing this for Lorenzo.” Without thinking, she flashed Lorenzo a glance, sharing with him her certainty.

She’d forgotten that for the past few days he wouldn’t even look at her. Now though, his gaze met hers, and she felt the impact hit her like a freight train.

Helpless desire surged in her veins, and she almost forgot herself, almost gave in to the need to climb straight over his desk and crawl into his lap. It was only the past six months of iron control that stopped her, that made her look away, her heart hammering in her chest,

“Yeah, and that’s another question I have,” Nero said, his voice deep and gravelly and harsh. “Why the fuck are you suddenly helping Lorenzo? What did he do? Make you an offer you couldn’t refuse?”

Still reeling from that look, Kira couldn’t think of a single response.

Luckily Lorenzo forestalled her. “That is none of your concern, Nero,” he said in his usual flat, cold tone. “All that matters is that she’s going to do what we want.”

“If those files are there,” Nero amended, his attention shifting to Lorenzo. “We have no idea if they are or not. Or even if there are any files.”

“There will be.” There was nothing but absolute confidence in Lorenzo’s tone. “If there’s one thing I know about Dad it’s that he likes to keep records, no matter what they’re about.”

Nero gave him a dark look. “Fine, but I’m not betting on that entirely. I’m going to keep digging elsewhere. You can’t hide everything forever online and everyone, no matter how good they are at hiding themselves, eventually leaves a trace.”

Lorenzo shrugged. “You do that. But my money’s on Kira.”

Beneath the chaotic desire raging inside her, a helpless warmth glowed. When had anyone been confident of her abilities? She didn’t know if anyone had, still less said it out loud to someone else.

She didn’t trust herself to look at Lorenzo this time, keeping her attention on Nero, though her question was for both of them. “So what, exactly, do I have to do? Download spreadsheets? Transaction records? What?”

“I have a little piece of code I’ve written that I’ll put on a thumb drive,” Nero said. “All you have to do is switch the computer on, put the drive in it, and I’ll be able to hack in and download the contents of the hard drive. Once that’s done, all you need to do is take the drive out.”

Well, that sounded easy. “That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, turning over the plan in her head, concentrating. “Dad keeps his office locked at all times and he has the latest model DS Corp locks installed on all the doors.”

“Not a problem,” Nero said shortly. “I can probably get them open—”

“No need,” she interrupted before she could stop herself. “I know the codes already. Dad hasn’t changed them since I was small.” She couldn’t help grinning, first at Nero then, forgetting utterly that looking at Lorenzo was a bad idea, at Lorenzo, too.

Again, his gaze met hers with an almost physical impact, making her grin falter. Until she saw the minute curve of his beautiful mouth, a softening so slight she might have missed it if she hadn’t been looking straight at him.

It made the helpless glow inside her become a blaze and this time she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

“Fuck,” Nero muttered, his voice breaking the sudden silence, making Kira realize she’d been staring at Lorenzo far longer than was strictly necessary.

Luckily Nero’s attention wasn’t on them. He was staring at his phone and scowling. “Sorry,” he said after a second. “I have to go.”

Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he barely spared them a glance as he turned and strode to the door, not even bothering with a good-bye as he went out.

Kira sucked in a shaky breath, conscious that she and Lorenzo were now alone.

She focused on the wall behind him rather than meeting that mesmerizing stormy gaze directly. “Is he always that rude?” She tried to keep the atmosphere light. “Seems like a de Santis trait.”

“Nero doesn’t do well around people,” Lorenzo murmured.

“Apparently not.” She kept looking at the wall above his head. “Well, do you need me for anything else?”

A silence fell, heavy and thick, while an electric tension whispered over her skin.

She desperately wanted to meet his gaze, feel it hit her again, a reminder that what had happened between them over the weekend had been real and that he’d felt it like she had.

But she knew it would be better if she didn’t. There was danger in being with him, she could feel it in the instant rush of desire she felt around him, in the longing that tugged at her whenever he was near. She’d been good for the past six months, been strong and in control of her emotions, hadn’t let them get the better of her.

Yet he had the power to overturn all that control so easily, undo all the work she’d put into modifying her behavior. She couldn’t give in, she just couldn’t.

So she concentrated on the gun on the wall, the lighting gleaming along the barrel, waiting for him to dismiss her.

The silence drew out, drew thin, pulling tight.

Her skin prickled. He was looking at her, wasn’t he? She could feel the pressure of his gaze gather like a storm about to break.

“Kira.” Her name was little more than a growl, deep and rough. “Look at me.”

Don’t. You shouldn’t.

She took another breath, staring at that fucking gun, at the light gleaming on it. “I have work to do, Mr. de Santis. Are we done here?”

“Look. At. Me.” The command in his voice was absolute and she found herself obeying him helplessly.

His gaze was a sharp silver blade, cutting right through the heart of her, making her tremble, though she tried to repress it. Okay, so she’d obeyed, but she could be strong. She could resist the pull of him. She had control over her urges, of course she did.

“When you told Nero you were doing this for me, you looked at me,” he said carefully. “And you nearly moved, but stopped yourself at the last minute.” His attention was concentrated like the sun through a magnifying glass, igniting her desire, her need. “I want to know what were you going to do.”

Her mouth had gone dry, and she had to fold her hands in front of her to stop them from reaching out to him. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” He sounded rougher now. “What was it, Kira?”

Her heart shuddered in her chest. “Why do you want to know?”

Another silence followed, taut, vibrating.

He was sitting so still, but the way he was looking at her . . . there was a hurricane behind his eyes. “Why don’t you want to tell me?”

Her breath caught, the desperation she’d been trying to hide all week winding tighter and tighter. “You’re my boss. I’m your intern. Isn’t that the way we’re going to play it from now on? Wasn’t that what you said?”

His gaze didn’t even flicker. “Tell me, Kira.”

And the words came spilling out. “I wanted to climb right over your desk and into your lap.”

He said nothing for a long moment.

Then he shoved his chair back, his silver eyes never leaving hers.

She knew what it was. An invitation.

Her pulse began to skyrocket. It was all she could do to stand where she was and not immediately move toward him. But she had to remain in control. She had to.

“Lorenzo . . .” She couldn’t stop the way his name came out, husky and soft. “I’m trying to be good. I’m trying to do what you said and be your intern.” She took a shaky breath, half desperate. “I’m trying to stay in control of myself.”

The lines of his face had hardened, became fierce and set. “I don’t want you to be good. I’ve had three days of trying to be around you without getting hard and it’s not working.” His lips peeled back in a snarl. “It’s not fucking working, and I’m not doing it anymore. I don’t want you in control of yourself, Kira. I want you fucking wild. So get in my lap. Now.”

She didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. Her hold on herself shattered as easily as a wine glass hurled onto a concrete floor. She dropped the folder she’d been holding, papers flying everywhere, but she ignored them, already moving.

As if she’d been waiting all week just to hear those words.

Lorenzo hit the button on his intercom. “Hold my calls,” he ordered roughly. “And if anyone comes through my door, they’re fired.”

She was at the desk, pulling her skirt up, getting onto the desktop, crawling over it to him, pulled inexorably by the look in his eyes. By the need pulsing hard between her thighs.

I want you fucking wild . . .

She obeyed her instincts, sliding off the desk and going down onto her knees right in front of him, her heartbeat rocketing. His expression became even more fierce, taut with hunger. He spread his thighs and she was leaning forward, surrounded by his heat and the scent of him, musky with male arousal.

Her mouth watered. She wanted to taste him so badly.

She reached to undo his belt, her fingers shaking. It felt like an interminable amount of time to get it undone, but he helped her, and then the top button on his pants was being unfastened and she was drawing his zipper down.

She couldn’t stop the groan that escaped her as she reached inside his boxers and found his cock. He felt so good, hot and hard and velvety. God, she’d been dreaming about this ever since the weekend. Dreaming of tasting him, touching him.

He made a growling sound, his hand fisting in her hair. “Yes. Fucking suck me, Kira. Do it.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, opening her mouth and taking him in slowly, savoring the moment. Savoring the taste of musk and salt and the other, delicious flavor that was all Lorenzo.

He made another sound, half groan, half snarl. The hand in her hair tightened, his free hand slapping down on the desk in front of him. “Fuck, yes.”

Kira curled her fingers around him, delicately exploring the smooth, sensitive head of his cock with her tongue, relishing the tremor that went through the whole of his body as she did so, his fingers in her hair almost painful. Then she did it again, grazing her teeth over him this time, the guttural sound he made her reward.

She leaned against him, his powerful thighs spread on either side of her, taking him deeper. Sucking him harder.

She knew what to do. She’d done this to men before. But those encounters had always been mindless. It was not mindless now. Every sense she had was concentrated on him. On tasting him. On giving him as much pleasure as he could handle, because he wanted her wild and so that’s what she’d give him

She could focus. And she was going to focus on him.

He groaned her name as she began to suck him in earnest, her hand curled around the rigid length of his cock, pumping him. Increasing the suction.

Then all at once, her head was being jerked back and his hands were under her arms, lifting her up, pulling her into his lap.

She blinked at him, slightly dazed as her knees came down on either side of his narrow hips, her skirt tight around her thighs. Gasping, she put her hands on his shoulders for balance as he wrenched her skirt up.

The lightning was in his eyes, hunger stark in every line of his beautiful face. She shuddered at the intensity of his expression as he reached between her thighs and wrenched aside the drenched silk of her panties.

“I need to be inside you,” he said hoarsely. “I need us to be together.”

And his arm came around her, an iron band pulling her close, and she felt the head of his cock push against her, push inside her. Her mouth opened on another strangled gasp as he slid deep, and she couldn’t help rolling her hips to take him deeper, relishing the burn and stretch of her pussy around him.

His intense silver eyes were inches away and she was caught, pinned by the look in them. He began to move, his breathing harsh, holding her gaze with his as he thrust up hard into her.

The pleasure unfurling inside her was annihilating. Soul destroying.

Her fingers dug into the heavy muscles of his shoulders as she moved with him, coming down hard on him every time he thrust up. She was panting, and she knew she was going to lose herself. She knew it. But that gaze of his was her lifeline, and she didn’t look away.

And when his free hand came up behind her head and forced her mouth to his, she went with it. Hungry and desperate, but not mindless. Not mindless anymore.

Their movements got faster, the kiss becoming feverish.

She bit him, desperate for more, and he gave it to her, the angle of his thrusts changing so he hit her clit with each upward movement of his hips. Kira shuddered, reaching down between her thighs without a thought, stroking herself.

“Yes,” he murmured hoarsely against her mouth. “Fucking touch yourself, beautiful girl. Make yourself come. Let me watch you.”

So she kept stroking, the bliss of his thrusts and the intensity of her own finger on her clit sending the sensation sky high.

Then the tension broke, and she was shaking as pleasure exploded through her, his name torn from her in a harsh scream. The brilliance of his gaze swallowed everything, and she was drowning in ecstasy, drowning in pure silver.

Drowning in him.

His mouth pressed to hers as he gripped her tight, his own thrusts falling out of rhythm, becoming uncontrolled, as wild as she was. Then he stiffened, tearing his mouth away and turning his face into her neck, a savage groan breaking from him, his long, powerful body shuddering as the climax took him, too.

For long moments afterward, he kept his arms tight around her, his breathing warm against the skin of her neck, but she didn’t mind. In fact, she loved the feeling of being held and contained, of having his warm body to lean against, of being able to sift her fingers through his thick, black hair.

“We can’t go back,” he said eventually, his voice muffled against her neck. “I can’t go back. I want you too much. I . . . need you too much.”

She didn’t ask what he meant. She knew. For a second, the relief was so acute she couldn’t speak.

He wanted her. He wanted her like she wanted him.

“Good,” she replied, when she finally found her voice again. “Because I want you, too.”

Lorenzo’s hand was in her hair all of a sudden, gently tugging her head back. There was something fierce in his eyes, something ferocious. “No, this isn’t just want, Kira. This is more. I need you.” His lips peeled back in one of those snarls again. “And I shouldn’t. I fucking shouldn’t.”

Her heart kicked at the look in his eyes, at the hunger that burned there. And yet there was anger there, too, as if he didn’t want the feeling. It made a sliver of hurt slide under her skin. “Why shouldn’t you? What’s wrong with needing me?”

His hand tightened. “You know why. It’s dangerous. For both of us. “

“For me, yes. But I don’t understand why it’s dangerous for you.”

His expression twisted. “Katie died because I needed her. Because I couldn’t handle my grief on my own, the way I should have. I was selfish. It was all about me, and so she died.”

The ferocity in his face, the pain, was like a knife in her heart. “Needing someone because you’re grieving isn’t selfish, Lorenzo. God, sometimes you can’t deal with that kind of stuff on your own.” She searched his face. “Who told you that anyway?”

“Dad.” The word was bitten out. “It was a lesson he instilled in me early on. Every man should be an island, he used to say. You shouldn’t need anyone, shouldn’t want anyone. A man should be self-sufficient and strong. Too much emotion made you weak.”

Her chest tightened. “Do you really believe that? Because if you do then you must think I’m the weakest person you’ve ever met.”

Another fierce expression crossed his face. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant. You’re not weak, Kira. You’re the very opposite of weak. But you’re not selfish with it, you’re—”

“Of course, I’m selfish with it.” She put her hands on his chest, holding herself away from him. “I do whatever I want. Follow every impulse. I don’t think about the consequences it will have on people.”

“Yes, but that’s not your fault. That’s your condition.”

“I can’t blame everything on my condition, Lorenzo. At some point, I have to take responsibility for it.”

He stared at her a second longer, then his attention shifted. He moved, pulling carefully out of her and putting his clothing back to rights, before he did the same for her, too. “I am taking responsibility. That’s what I’ve been doing since Katie died. Or at least I should be. But I . . . I just can’t fucking keep away from you.”

She paid no attention to his attempts to smooth her skirt down, staring at his starkly beautiful face. “It’s not just about Katie though, is it?” Because it wasn’t, she could feel it deep in her bones. “This is about something more.”

Lorenzo busied himself for a moment with her skirt, stroking along her thigh. Then he said, “When I was twelve, I overheard an argument Dad was having with Mom. She told him that she hated New York and that she was going to go back to Wyoming. I couldn’t bear the thought of her going, of her leaving me there alone with him. He was so cold, and I hated him. So I rushed in and begged her not to go. And Dad . . .” A bitter laugh escaped him. “He said that of course she couldn’t go. That she had to stay.” His lifted his gaze to hers. “She had to stay for my sake.”

Sudden understanding curled inside Kira’s chest. “It’s not only Katie you blame yourself for, isn’t it?”

Lorenzo’s gaze was inexorable, sharp with grief. “Mom hated New York. Hated it. And sometimes I think that if I hadn’t rushed in and told her not to go, if I hadn’t wanted more from her, perhaps my goddamn father wouldn’t have used me to keep her here. She would have gone back to Wyoming. She would have been happy. She wouldn’t have drowned herself in fucking vodka and sleeping tablets.”

Kira touched his face, running her fingers along the exquisite line of his carved cheekbones, wanting to soothe the raw note in his voice. “Do you really believe that? Sure, I can imagine her wanting to stay for you. But you didn’t pour vodka down her throat or give her pills. Those were her choices.”

His long black lashes fell, veiling his gaze. “I held onto her very tightly. I wanted her to stay so very much, and I was afraid she’d leave. And when Dad told her she had to stay for my sake, I was . . . glad.”

“You were twelve. Of course, you didn’t want her to leave. Of course, you were glad.”

He looked away, shaking his head. “She withdrew from me after that. I think she blamed me, too.”

She gripped his chin, turning him back to her, meeting his gray eyes. “You didn’t kill her, Lorenzo. Just like you didn’t kill Katie. You loved them and you’re taking responsibility for their deaths because you couldn’t protect them. You couldn’t save them.”

The look in his gaze burned her. “No.”

Kira leaned forward so her mouth was inches away from his, staring right at him. “Yes. Why else were you resisting me? It wasn’t only yourself you were protecting, you were trying to protect me as well. And that’s not selfish, Lorenzo. Not in the slightest.” She hesitated. “Though I’m not quite sure what you think you’re protecting me from.”

An emotion she couldn’t read flashed across his face. Then he lifted his hands, pushed his fingers into her hair, gripping her. “I’m protecting you from me, beautiful girl. I want too much. It hurts people, and I’ll hurt you eventually.”

Slowly, she shook her head. “No, you won’t. I’m tougher than I look.”

“You’d better be.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Because I can’t give you up, Kira. Not yet.”

It was wrong to feel relief. Wrong to let the sudden surge of need flood through her.

But right now, she didn’t care.

“What makes you think I’ll let you?” she murmured.

And then she kissed him before he could answer.

Chapter 11

The Constantin’s midsummer garden party on the terrace of their Greenwich Village townhouse was one of the highlights of the Manhattan social calendar. Jenny Constantin controlled the guest list with an iron fist and invitations were hard to get, a fact that Jenny encouraged for the sake of exclusivity.

Lorenzo, of course, had no problem getting an invite since the de Santis family—one of the richest and most important in New York—was precisely the kind of company Jenny wanted at her garden party.

“Lorenzo!” she exclaimed as Lorenzo walked in the doors, coming to greet him with a genteel Chanel No. 5−scented hug. “How nice of you to come.”

“Of course,” he said with a forced smile. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Ivan was there, too, greeting guests as they came in, and he shook Lorenzo’s hand. “I thought you weren’t going to come this year?”

“Like I said to Jenny, I wouldn’t miss it.” His gaze went to Kira, who was standing next to her father, radiating polite friendliness. “Besides, I had a few things I need to talk to Kira about.”

“Of course, of course.” Ivan made a shooing gesture toward the hallway. “Go on out to the terrace. You too, Kira.”

“You sure, Dad?” Kira’s blue eyes were guileless. “Mom said she wanted me to stay and help greet people.”

But Jenny had already moved on to the next lot of guests and was paying no attention whatsoever.

“I’m sure,” Ivan said. “Go on.”

Lorenzo didn’t miss the gleam in Ivan’s eyes as Kira moved toward him. Clearly the guy thought encouraging Kira to spend time with him was going to get Ivan what he and Cesare wanted. Which was fine. Ivan could keep on thinking that. Especially when the opposite was going to be true.

Resisting the urge to reach out and slide an arm around her waist, Lorenzo turned toward the hallway that led to the terrace where the party was being held and began to move down it, not looking behind him to see if Kira was following.

It was harder than it should have been to keep his hands to himself, though after the past week he really should have anticipated that keeping them off Kira was bound to be a problem.

Since that insane moment in his office after Nero had left, where he’d not only lost his grip on the hunger for her that was tearing him apart, but had thrown his years of iron self-control out the fucking window, he’d had her every opportunity he could.

That night after work, he’d taken her back to his place and gorged himself on her. Then the next night, and the one after that, and the one after that. Long, hot, desperate nights, trying to sate the hunger inside him. Yet somehow only making it worse.

If all they’d done was have sex, it might have been okay. But they didn’t. They talked to each other, had conversations, and not only conversations about business, but about other things as well. Conversations about trivial things. Meaningless things.

Lorenzo didn’t have meaningless conversations about anything with anyone. They were always about business or politics or money or the company. In fact, the last time he’d had a conversation about nothing with someone, it had been with Katie.

It didn’t help that Kira’s mind was a joy and a fascination. She thought about things differently, connected subjects in unfamiliar and exciting ways, and he never found her tendency to skip from topic to topic annoying. Only intriguing. She’d told him more about the idea she had for her classes, which he had to admit, sounded excellent. And one night after work, she’d brought along with her a little wooden box that on opening, proved to be full of needles and pins and brightly colored silk threads, as well as beads of all different shapes and sizes. Then she’d gotten out a scrap of black silk and showed him what she’d been working on—a pretty, lacy pair of shorts. Her work was exquisite, and he’d told her so. She’d blushed, then flung the silk to one side and climbed into his lap, letting him know in no uncertain terms how much she liked his comment.

She never hid what she felt when she was with him, her moods quicksilver and just as fascinating as the rest of her. Every emotion was all there for him to read in her eyes, on her pretty face, warm and generous and open.

She reminded him of Katie in some ways, and yet in other ways she was very different. Katie had never talked much about herself, focusing all her attention on him. And because he’d been a fundamentally arrogant and selfish young man, it hadn’t been till after she’d died that he’d realized how little he knew about her.

Kira, though, did talk about herself and he liked hearing about her plans for the future and her thoughts on different subjects. There was a strength to her, a determination that Katie had lacked, and a kind of stubbornness that he found irritating as hell and yet couldn’t help admiring at the same time.

She was always a challenge to him, and Katie hadn’t been that at all.

It made him even hungrier for her. Even more desperate. So much so that letting her go in the mornings, pretending they were still only boss and intern, was becoming next to impossible.

So don’t then.

The thought flared like a torch, burning in his brain. He’d wanted to keep their relationship secret because he didn’t know when this thing between them would end. There were so many reasons why it was wrong, the age difference and the fact that he was her boss just a couple of them.

But . . . she wanted him. And he couldn’t forget the look in her stunning blue eyes as he’d told her about his mother. About how he hadn’t wanted her to leave, his need for her damning her as surely as his father had with his manipulations.

It was something he didn’t like to think about let alone speak of, so why the hell he’d revealed it to Kira, he had no idea. Yet she’d seemed to understand. She’d told him it wasn’t his fault, which he knew, and yet . . .

You loved them. You wanted to protect them and couldn’t.

Lorenzo’s jaw tightened. He should be protecting Kira by letting her go, too. But he just . . . couldn’t. After Katie had died, he’d thought that making himself into an island was the one piece of advice his father had given him that was worth taking.

Yet he didn’t want to be a fucking island. He’d never wanted to. What he wanted was Kira. Her warmth and her bright magpie spirit. The wicked sparkle in her eyes she got whenever she teased him. The way she threw herself into his arms the moment they were alone, as if she was as starved for him as he was for her.

He was hungry for her, and he didn’t think he’d ever be free of it.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to be.

“The office is on the upper floors.” Kira was at his elbow, her heels tapping on the flagged marble floor of the hallway, jolting him out of his thoughts.

They were passing an ornate staircase with a gold, filigree banister that curled upward, shining in the light like a stairway to heaven.

“Okay.” He knew he sounded curt, but the reminder of her purpose here irritated him. It was almost as if that wasn’t as important as the need growing ever larger in his soul. The need to hold her and never let go.

Catching the edge in his tone, Kira glanced up at him.

Christ, she was beautiful today. She wore a pretty dress in ice blue with a fitted bodice and frothy skirt. The neckline was modest, cutting straight across her delicate collarbones, and the skirt just brushed her knees. There was nothing provocative about it, yet he got hard simply looking at her. The color highlighted her pale skin and brought out the blue of her eyes, and with her platinum hair swept up onto her head, she looked elegant and sophisticated.

He wanted to back her up against the nearest wall, push up that skirt, tug aside her panties and bury himself inside her.

Her blue gaze darkened, a wicked little smile curling her lovely mouth, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. “And that can wait until after I find those files.”

No doubt about it. She’d definitely known what he was thinking.

Anger suddenly simmered inside him. He should just grab her, take her away, take her home. Get her beneath him in his bed and keep her there. Fuck this stupid plan and fuck his goddamn father.

Did you really want Mom to have died for nothing?

His jaw ached, and he had to look away from Kira’s smile, ignore the way it made the anger worse and the hunger for her bite deeper.

Of course, he had to go through with this. How could he let himself forget who it was for? Selfish to push that aside simply because he wanted a woman.

“Fine,” he said tightly. “We’ll mingle for half an hour first, then you can go upstairs. I’ll keep your father down here.”

Her gaze narrowed, as if she’d found his comment unsatisfying in some way. But all she said was, “Okay.” Her hand made a movement toward him as if to touch him, but then dropped again.

He wanted that hand on his arm. He wanted her touch.

Wait till this is over.

He gritted his teeth, saying nothing as they continued on to the end of the hallway where there was a set of double doors that led out onto the terrace. The garden party was in full swing, the terrace packed with the cream of Manhattan high society.

Tubs of bright flowers were scattered everywhere, along with trees in pots, topiaries, and all sorts of other greenery, turning the space into a kind of English country garden. There were seating areas with couches upholstered in pale linen and tables with flickering candles on them even though sunset was still a couple of hours away. In one corner a string quartet played while white-coated wait staff circulated with trays of champagne and bowls of brilliant red strawberries.

It reminded him of the party all those years ago and Kira tripping the waiter, wine glasses falling off the tray and smashing. People shouting. Her wail rising higher and higher, in shock at what she’d done. The fury on Ivan’s face at the interruption . . .

You protected her then, that’s why you took her away, distracted her. You should be doing the same thing now. You should be protecting her from you.

He shoved the memories out of his head as he and Kira stepped out of the hallway. Heads turned and soon Lorenzo was greeted by various people, all desperate for the opportunity to speak with him about different business issues.

Normally he wouldn’t have minded this in the slightest since he detested small talk, but now he resented the attention. He didn’t want to talk about business, not even about issues that were of vital importance to DS Corp.

He wanted to grab a glass of champagne and go sit somewhere quiet with Kira and talk about meaningless things. Or of things that meant everything. Or not talk at all, simply sit there in silence, holding her hand.

But he couldn’t. He had to focus on the people around him, had to ignore the lovely, slender woman at his side. Or at least he tried to. Difficult when every part of him was achingly aware of how close she was standing to him. Of the smell of her warm, sensual perfume and delicious, musky scent of her body. Of the exposed, vulnerable curve of her neck and the pale wisps of hair that clustered there. Of the need he had, deep inside, to put his hand on the back of her neck and hold her gently, so everyone knew who she belonged to.

Her voice, light and slightly husky, haunted him as she talked to the man beside her, and every so often he lost the thread of his own conversation, too busy listening to hers.

In the end, he had to draw aside the colleague he was speaking to in order to concentrate, because it was impossible with her right next to him. Even then, when he should have been paying attention to the other man’s words, his gaze kept returning to Kira where she stood about a yard away. Another man was talking to her and Lorenzo could see by the avid look on the bastard’s face that it wasn’t only a business connection he wanted to make.

It was all Lorenzo could do not to go over there, punch the asshole in the face, and drag Kira away from him.

After he’d finished his conversation, Lorenzo turned away from her to give himself some relief, going over to the side of the terrace and leaning against the big stone parapet that bounded the edge. He kept his back to the crowd, fighting down the clawing possessiveness that kept urging him to find Kira and take her away, take her back to his townhouse and keep her there. Perhaps for another week or maybe even a month.

Maybe forever.

And what if it was? What if that’s exactly how long it took to sate himself on her? He wouldn’t mind that. He wouldn’t mind that at all.

“Is it time do you think?” Her voice at his elbow again. “Unless you want to slip away and show me how to fold a paper crane?”

Every muscle in his body tightened at her nearness. He wanted to smile at her comment, tell her she was too old for paper cranes and that he could think of something else to show her.

But no. They had a mission they were here to complete. There’d be plenty of time for other things later.

Slowly, Lorenzo turned around and met her blue gaze. “No cranes,” he said flatly. “It’s time.”

* * *

Kira was nervous, she couldn’t pretend otherwise. It fluttered in her gut like a small bird beating its wings against a cage, but she put her hand on the ornate gold banister and started up the stairs all the same.

Strangely, she wasn’t nervous about getting caught. Sure her father would be suspicious and wouldn’t be pleased to find her sneaking around in his office, but who cared about that? She decided she didn’t. She was over seeking his approval. She didn’t need it, not when she had Lorenzo.

But then it was because of Lorenzo that she was so nervous. She didn’t want to screw this up for him.

He’d been so confident she could do this, which made it extremely important to her that she not let him down. Especially considering all the other people in her life that she’d either disappointed or failed.

She had to show him he was right to put his faith in her.

At the top of the stairs, she went left down the hallway, moving down to the last door on the right, fighting the urge to wipe her damp palms on her dress.

Nero was on standby, waiting for her to put that drive in the computer, so all she needed to do was get past the locks on her father’s office door.

Jesus, he better not have changed the codes on her, not after she’d told Nero and Lorenzo she had them.

The music of the party had faded, though she could hear the odd buzz of conversation drifting up the stairwell. Luckily there didn’t seem to be anyone around.

She glanced quickly down the hallway to see if anyone had followed her, then looked at the keypad on the door frame. Her mother’s birthday, easy. Hitting the numbers, she waited for the blinking green light to indicate the door had unlocked.

But it didn’t. It flashed red instead.

Shit. He had changed the codes.

Her mind raced, a burst of disappointment and shock threatening to overwhelm her and drag her under. She wasn’t going to be able to do this if she couldn’t open the door, but she’d told Lorenzo and Nero she could. “My money’s on Kira,” Lorenzo had said, so certain she could do this.

But the codes had changed, and now she couldn’t concentrate, a thousand terrible thoughts spinning through her brain. Thoughts of disappointing Lorenzo. Thoughts of the friends she’d killed in the accident. Thoughts of her parents’ faces as they’d looked at Kira’s report card, so unhappy with her “pass” grades, not realizing how hard Kira had worked to simply not fail . . .

Focus. You can do this. Lorenzo thought you could so you can.

Fuck, yes, she could. She would. She wasn’t going to let him down, not now.

A shudder of determination went through her as she grabbed control of her flailing brain, focusing on the keypad in front of her and not on her spiraling thoughts.

Okay, so her father had changed the code. To what? The lock would only allow three attempts before it locked her out completely so she had to get this right.

His birthday perhaps? No. Her father’s security tended to be very simple, but even he’d think that too easy. So, it had to be something else. What about her parents’ wedding anniversary?

She keyed the number in, but again, the light flashed red.

Crap.

Her heartbeat ramped up. Only one attempt left, and she was going to have to get it right. She swallowed, trying to think, trying to focus. There were no other significant dates that she could think of except . . .

But no, it couldn’t be her birthday, could it?

She blinked at the pad then reached out and keyed in the numbers.

The light flashed green, and the lock clicked, and she was conscious of a lurch inside her. A small catch of feeling. But there wasn’t time to examine it, so she simply opened the door and stepped inside before closing it firmly behind her.

Her father liked his decor masculine, with lots of library bookshelves, paneled wooden walls, and a couple of deep leather armchairs. The pictures on the walls were landscapes of rugged-looking mountains, wide blue skies, and rolling fields, with a couple of pictures of horses thrown in for good measure.

Right in front of her was a huge wooden desk with a slim desktop screen on it.

Kira headed toward the desk, skirting around it and seating herself on the office chair behind it. Then she flicked the button on the computer and waited for the machine to boot up.

There was a brief moment of panic when a password screen came up and she blinked at it for a full minute, because she’d forgotten that of course she’d need a password to log on. For a moment, she contemplated contacting Nero and getting him to hack the password to give her access. But then she shook her head and focused.

She could open the door, she would get into the computer.

Staring at the screen, she tried to think of what kind of password her father would use. Again, it would be something simple, yet personal to him.

So what did he like? Definitely music, he’d been a fan of the Blues from way back. In fact, he used to sing this one song all the time. Something her brain had latched onto. Muddy Waters, her father had told her and she’d run around saying “Muddy Waters Muddy Waters,” over and over again, because she liked the sound of it.

Kira blinked. Then entered “Muddy Waters.”

The desktop screen came up immediately and a rush of triumph went through her, making her grin like a fool. Hell yeah, she was doing this.

Pulling the thumb drive out of her purse, Kira stuck it into the port, then texted Nero, who replied with a list of instructions. She followed them carefully, then sat back to wait as the screen flashed and windows opened and the little drive lit up.

It took a while for Nero to do whatever it was he was doing, and several times she got up from the chair to pace around her father’s office while she waited, starting to get slightly nervous about how long it was taking. Eventually, she picked up a piece of paper and started folding it in a series of practiced, precise movements.

Five paper cranes later, her phone buzzed with a text from Nero. Got it.

At the same time, a text came through from Lorenzo asking her where the hell she was, but she didn’t stop to text him back. She’d been in here far too long already, and it was time to leave.

Pulling the drive out, she logged out of the computer and shut it down. Then she swept her cranes into the wastebasket beneath the desk, pausing to slip the smallest into her pocket for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom but didn’t question. Then she quickly crossed the room and opened the door.

And walked straight into her father.

Chapter 12

Lorenzo looked at his watch again.

She was taking too long.

Ivan was with a group of people by the entrance to the terrace, which was fine, so there wasn’t a huge rush. But still. He didn’t like that she’d been up there fifteen minutes and hadn’t come back. It made him antsy, made him want to go up there and check she was okay, that she hadn’t run into any difficulties.

He glanced back at the entrance again. Ivan wasn’t there anymore.

A cold feeling twisted in his gut. Kira had told him that she’d just play her pretty airhead card if anyone caught her, but he didn’t like the idea of her getting confronted, not by anyone. And then if Cesare found out . . . Christ. His father was a hard, cold bastard and if he had any suspicion about what Kira was doing, he would be unforgiving.

Jesus, he should never have asked her to do this for him.

Lorenzo didn’t think, he headed straight to the terrace exit, brushing off people who greeted him. He needed to get to Kira. He needed to make sure she was okay.

You always want more, that’s your problem. And then people get hurt . . .

Taking the stairs to the second floor two at a time, he reached the hallway, glancing down in the direction of Ivan’s office. There was no one there. The cold feeling wound tighter.

He strode down the hallway to the office, pulling open the door without ceremony. And a cold shock went straight through him.

Because inside, Kira was standing in the middle of the room, her hands clasped in front of her, big blue eyes wide, looking up at the man who was standing over her.

Ivan.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” she was saying. “I didn’t mean to be in here. The door was open and—”

“No, it wasn’t,” Ivan cut her off tersely. “I keep that door locked at all times.”

From out of nowhere, a deep, protective rage gripped Lorenzo and before he’d fully thought about the fact that perhaps launching himself like a missile toward Ivan—especially in defense of a woman who was only supposed to be his intern—wasn’t the best idea, he’d taken two steps across the room, putting himself in between Ivan and Kira.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded furiously, taking a step forward and getting right up in Ivan’s face.

The other man’s eyes widened in shock, and he stumbled back. “I’m not doing anything.”

Lorenzo took another threatening step. “Yes, you were. Leave her the fuck alone.”

Ivan blinked at him. “I was only asking her why she was here in my office when the door is normally locked.”

He knew he was acting stupidly. That pretty soon Ivan would start asking questions about why Lorenzo was getting so angry on Kira’s behalf. And that was a suspicion he didn’t need right now, and yet he couldn’t seem to stop.

He wanted to protect her, keep her safe from anyone who might hurt her, including the father who’d neglected her, who hadn’t given her the help she’d needed when she’d needed it.

What about you? Who will protect her from you?

His need, his insatiable hunger . . .

You’ll destroy her like you destroyed Katie. Like you destroyed Mom.

No. He wouldn’t. Kira was strong. Kira was stronger than both Katie and his mother. She wasn’t fragile, she’d been able to withstand his demands on her and more, she’d returned them with a few insatiable demands of her own.

He wouldn’t destroy her. She wouldn’t let him.

Lorenzo straightened, staring at Ivan coldly. It didn’t matter what Ivan thought. Ivan’s daughter was his, and he didn’t give a shit who knew it.

He opened his mouth to tell Ivan exactly what was happening here when he felt Kira’s fingers brush his back in a soothing touch. “I’m okay, Lorenzo,” she murmured from behind him. “Dad must be getting absentminded or something, because there’s no way I can unlock a DS Corp. lock on my own.”

Her voice was calm and he wanted to turn and take her in his arms, crush her mouth under his and fuck Ivan. But no, there was still a mission to complete. He’d keep it together until then.

Ivan had taken several steps back from him, and Lorenzo didn’t miss the fear and suspicion in his eyes. But he only said, “Yes, perhaps that’s it. Having a senior moment, clearly.” His gaze flicked to Kira. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“Sure, Dad,” Kira said easily.

Ivan sniffed then moved over to the door and opened it pointedly. “Perhaps you’d like to return to the party?”

There was no other option but to go and so Lorenzo did, ushering Kira out first, then following on behind her, protective rage still pulsing inside him like a giant heartbeat.

As they walked down the hallway, she tried to say something to him, but he only shook his head. “Not here,” he said tersely. “Join me in the car. We need to talk privately.”

He texted his driver as they made their way downstairs and within a couple of minutes, the limo pulled up to the curb.

Kira gave him a quizzical look as they got in, waiting until he’d pulled the door shut before saying, “Is everything okay? I mean, if you’re worried about Dad, don’t be. I basically opened the door and walked straight into him, which is crappy timing, but I’m sure he didn’t suspect anything.”

Lorenzo leaned forward and pressed the intercom button. “Take us home, Evans,” he said tersely to his driver, then gave into it, the craving to touch her that had been plaguing him the entire time at the party, pulling her into his arms and kissing her fiercely as the limo pulled into the traffic.

She returned the kiss, just as fierce, the heat and sweetness of her mouth easing the savage need inside him.

Eventually he pulled his mouth from hers and simply held her, relishing the warmth of her resting against him. “No, I’m sure Ivan wouldn’t have suspected anything. At least not until the moment I walked in and almost hit him.”

Her mouth curved, her fingers spreading out on his chest, a deep blue spark glinting in her eyes. “Poor Dad. You scared him.”

“Good. He deserved it.”

“True.” Her smile became wider, that blue spark dancing. “I did it, Lorenzo. Dad changed the code on the door and I thought I wouldn’t be able to get in, but I managed to guess it. And then I guessed the password on his computer, too.”

She looked so pleased with herself, he couldn’t stop from bending and kissing her lovely, pouty mouth again, wanting to taste her triumph. “I knew you’d do it,” he said, pulling back. “I never had any doubt.”

“Oh, I did. I spun out there for a bit when I realized Dad had changed the code, but then . . . well . . .” Her pale skin warmed, pretty and pink. “You were so confident to Nero that I could do it, and I didn’t want to let you down. So I pulled myself together and figured it out.” She put her chin on her hands where they rested on his chest and gave him a smug look. “Not bad for a screw-up like me, even if I do say so myself.”

“You’re not a screw-up.” He brushed his thumb across that tantalizing mouth. “You’re incredible. You helped Nero and me get the information we need, which is amazing.” He should be feeling way more satisfied about that than he actually was, yet the fact that she was so pleased with herself seemed far more important.

The flush in her cheeks deepened, the pleasure she got out of his praise obvious. It made him want to shower her with it, make it so she’d never doubt herself again. “I hope so. But if you can’t find anything in the files Nero downloaded, then you should know that I’m prepared to go into Dad’s study in the dead of night and do an actual physical search. For hidden compartments in his desk and any secret passageways leading to underground lairs.”

He laughed and pushed his fingers into her hair, shaking out the pins so her platinum curls would cascade over his hands, brush his skin. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll need to do that. There’ll be something in those files, I’m sure of it.”

“Damn, I was hoping for more spy stuff.” She pouted a little then grinned. “So what’s going to happen now?”

“Nero needs to go through those files, and with any luck we’ll find the evidence we need. And then we’ll take it to the board.” Her hair was so soft over the backs of his hands, and he couldn’t stop himself from twisting it through his fingers, loving the feel of it. He really should be feeling pleased with the success of their plan rather than the feel of Kira’s hair on his skin, but he didn’t.

“Sounds good.” Her gaze flickered away from his, examining the buttons on his shirt. “So . . . do I have to stop being your intern now?”

His chest tightened at the hesitant note in her voice. Did that mean she didn’t want to keep working with him? Or that she did? Not that it mattered. He’d leave the choice up to her about what she did. Either way, he wasn’t giving her up.

Gently, he reached out and put a finger beneath her chin, raising her gaze to his. “Do you want to keep being my intern?”

There was uncertainty in her eyes. “Well, I mean, I like working for you. But I have these plans for the arts-and-craft classes . . .”

“Then that’s what you should do. You know I meant what I said about giving you some start-up money to get them off the ground. I can organize that for you tomorrow.”

She gave him a small smile, but he knew that whether she remained working for him or not wasn’t really what she was asking about. So he added, “I’ll get another key cut for my townhouse too.”

Kira said nothing, her gaze searching his face, some expression in her eyes he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“The key is for you,” he clarified, so she understood. “I want us to keep seeing each other, Kira.”

“Oh.” Emotion flickered over her face, gone so fast he couldn’t tell what it was. “So like what we’ve been doing? Having an affair?”

There was something in her voice, something in her expression that caught oddly at him, though he wasn’t sure what it was. “It’s hardly an affair,” he murmured, rubbing his thumbs over the platinum curls twisted around his fingers. “It’s a little more than that, don’t you think?”

“How much more?”

“Well, for a start, you’re the first woman I’ve ever given a key to.” He smiled, but she didn’t smile back.

Jesus, did she not want this? Had he been assuming she wanted this as badly as he did all along?

“You don’t want it?” The question came out sharper than he’d intended.

She looked away again. “No, it’s not that.”

“Then what?” There was a sudden pressure in his chest, as if something heavy was resting on it, pushing it down. He thought she’d be happy about it. But she didn’t look happy.

“If it’s not an affair then what is it?” Her voice was quiet, her pale lashes veiling her gaze. “I mean, how long exactly do I get to keep your key for?”

Irritation needled at him. This was not going like he’d hoped. He’d thought she’d be pleased, not asking him lots of questions. “You get to keep the key for however long you want. There’s no time limit.”

Her blue gaze flicked to his. “Until you get sick of me though, right?”

He stared at her, surprised. “What the hell makes you think I’ll get sick of you?”

“I’m not an easy person to be with, Lorenzo. You know this. I’m . . . difficult.”

“So?” His irritation deepened. What kind of bullshit was she talking about now? “I’m difficult, too. You don’t have a monopoly.”

“Yes, but my difficulties won’t ever go away. All I can do is manage them.”

“And? I manage mine as well. That’s all anyone can do.” He frowned, studying her face, trying to see what her problem was, because he didn’t understand. “What’s wrong? I thought you might want this, too.”

Her eyes had clouded, a strange emotional storm in them that he couldn’t decipher. “I do want this, but . . .” Her pale throat moved as she swallowed. “I don’t do uncertainty well, Lorenzo. I like to have rules and limits. They’re reassuring for me.”

“I can give you rules and limits, if that’s what you want.”

“But you can’t tell me how long you and I will be in a relationship for.”

“No. Of course, I can’t. No one knows the future, Kira.”

She pushed at his chest, tugging her hair out of his fingers, obviously wanting to put some distance between them. He let her, his irritation twisting into something a little hotter, a little more like anger.

Kira sat up, turning her face away from him, putting her hair to rights again.

Jesus, what the fuck did she want from him? Promises of forever? Was that it?

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He didn’t bother to mask his annoyance, trying to keep a handle on the sudden pain that had blossomed inside him. “I thought Katie and I would be together forever, but we weren’t. Life doesn’t come with guarantees and time limits, you should know that.”

She was silent, her fingers still moving in her hair. Then her arms dropped, her hands moving to fold in her lap. “I do know that.” Her voice was very quiet, all the mischievous humor drained from it, leaving it sounding colorless and flat. “But maybe a few guarantees are what I need right now.”

Frustration burned inside him, a hot ball of it right in the center of his chest. “I can’t give you that, Kira. All I can give you is what we have right now, for however long it works out between us.”

The color died completely from her skin and her head bent, her attention on her folded hands, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and covering those pale fingers with his own. “Isn’t it worth it? Isn’t it worth taking what you can get for however long you can get it? Life is so short. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

She didn’t look at him. “I want to go home now, Lorenzo.”

* * *

His hand over hers was very warm, and she could feel that warmth seeping into her, burning away the ice that crept through her veins. And she knew that if she let it sit there, let it burn away that ice entirely, she’d forget what she was supposed to be doing.

That she was supposed to be careful now, not let herself get carried away by her emotions. That she was supposed to be thinking things through.

The problem was that her heart was screaming at her to stop being such an idiot, to stop asking for stupid things like time limits and guarantees. It wanted to take Lorenzo’s key and the fact that he wanted their relationship to continue, and just go for it.

But that wasn’t how it was supposed to go now. She had to think through the consequences, because the last time she hadn’t, she’d killed people.

Sure, no one was going to die if she flung herself head first into a relationship with Lorenzo. No one was going to end up in a coma. But there was one person who could end up getting very badly hurt all the same.

Her.

That’s an excuse, and you know it. You’re just scared. You don’t think you’re good enough for him.

Oh, that was crap. She wasn’t scared. She was still recovering from the accident. Still recovering from the death of her friends. Still trying to find atonement, to find meaning in the tragedy she’d been a part of. She was still learning how to manage herself.

Anyway, she knew what would happen if she said yes to Lorenzo. She’d probably end up falling in love with him, hopelessly, helplessly. And one day, at some point, she’d screw things up, because she always screwed things up. She’d forget, the way she always forgot, about what was important. And maybe Lorenzo would be patient with her and maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d decide she wasn’t worth keeping hold of after all, and then it would be over.

But it would be too late for her by then. She’d be in love with him and he’d break her heart. And she wouldn’t ever recover from that, she knew it with certainty.

So no, it wasn’t fear. It was logic. She couldn’t grab what she could get for however long she could have it. She’d been doing that all her life, and the consequences had gotten her nothing but pain.

She wouldn’t do it again.

“Kira,” Lorenzo said, his voice roughened. “Look at me.”

Carefully, she removed her folded hands from under his and steeled herself to glance at him.

His face was set, his features carved from granite, staring at her so intently it was like he was trying to see the secrets of the universe in her eyes. “So that’s it? I can’t give you a fucking guarantee, so it’s over?” A muscle ticked in the side of his jaw. “Don’t you even want to try?”

Pain leapt inside her, sharp and sudden as a knife thrust. “You think I haven’t been trying? All my fucking life I’ve done nothing but try, Lorenzo. And I’m tired of it. I’m just so . . . goddamn tired. I don’t want to try anymore. Because you know what? Trying means failing, and I’m so goddamn sick of failing, too.”

He tried to grab her hand, but she pulled it away, giving a violent shake of her head.

Cursing under his breath, he sat back against the seat, his furious silver gaze on hers. “Failing? Failing at what?”

She stared back, unflinching. “Failing my friends. My parents. You. And I can’t fail you, Lorenzo. I can’t. That would break my heart.”

His expression twisted and he leaned forward, reaching for her again. “Kira—”

“No. Don’t touch me. Please.” She swallowed, staring at him. Willing him to listen and understand. “The accident hurt me. You can’t see the scars, but they’re there. One day, I’ll recover, I know I will, but . . .” She paused. “If something goes wrong between us, I won’t ever recover. I won’t ever recover from you, Lorenzo. Understand that right now.”

The lightning in his eyes flashed, a furious storm. “I would die rather than hurt you,” he said, his voice full of gravel.

“Like you said though, you can’t give me guarantees. And right now, I can’t rebuild my life without them.” Her eyes prickled, and there was a heaviness in her chest, a pressure, as if someone had her heart in their hands and was slowly squeezing tight. “I . . . want you, Lorenzo. Believe me, I want you. And maybe if the accident hadn’t happened or if I was a different person, things would be different. But . . . they’re not. I am who I am. And. . . .” Her throat got tight, and she had to force the last few words out. “I don’t want to be hurt again. I have to protect myself. You can understand that, can’t you?”

Something flashed across his face then. Something bright and anguished, and she nearly reached for him, only remembering at the last minute that perhaps touching him now would be a bad idea.

So she clenched her hands together tightly instead, furiously blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. Trying to ignore the squeeze of pain around her heart.

The anguish was gone from Lorenzo’s features as quickly as it had come, his expression shuttering like a door being slammed in her face. The brilliant silver in his eyes dulled, became iron gray. “I understand.” His voice was flat, cold. “I would never want to do anything that would compromise that.”

It should have relieved her, but it didn’t. That icy note in the words only made the pain sink deeper inside her. “I know you wouldn’t,” she said huskily. “You’d never hurt me deliberately.

He turned away, his posture stiff. “Of course not.” Leaning forward he pressed the button on the limo intercom. “We need to take Miss Constantin back to her house, then you can take me home, Evans.”

Kira’s fingers clenched tighter. Didn’t take a genius to work out that he was disappointed, maybe even hurt by her response. That caused the tightness around her heart to magnify, making her own disappointment and hurt that much sharper and more bitter.

You’re a coward. He’s made you happier than you’ve been in years, and now you’re throwing it in his face because you’re scared.

Kira forced the thought away hard.

Lorenzo would get over it. What they had wasn’t even real anyway, not really. It was based on sex, on chemistry, nothing more.

Liar, liar, liar . . .

Ignoring the denial, she waited out the agonizing minutes it took to get back to her parents’ house. Then, after the limo had pulled up again to the curb and stopped, she reached for the door handle. “Thank you, Lorenzo. For everything.”

“The money you need for your classes will be in your bank account in the next couple of days,” he said expressionlessly, getting his phone out of his pocket. “Whatever happened between us has nothing to do with my promise to you that you wouldn’t lose out.”

Of course, he’d do that for her. He was a man of principles.

“Thank you,” she repeated, her voice scratchy. “That . . . means a lot.”

He gave her a curt nod, but didn’t look at her, his attention on his phone.

Her eyes felt dry and sore, her throat aching. “I’m sorry,” she said hoarsely. “I’m so sorry, Lorenzo.”

He didn’t look up from his phone, giving her nothing but a cold, aching silence.

A tear slid down her cheek.

Time to go.

She got out and shut the door behind her, and she didn’t look behind her as she walked up the front steps.

Not once.

Chapter 13

Nero stood near the windows in Lorenzo’s office, watching as Lorenzo paced back and forth in front of his desk.

“So the information you found on Ivan’s computer is what we want? Is that what you’re saying?” Lorenzo asked, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his suit pants to keep them still.

“Yes,” his brother replied. “There were all sorts of hidden files with transaction reports, financial statements, the works. Which is why I say we take this to the police immediately rather than the board. Before the old man starts to suspect we have it.”

“No,” Lorenzo said reflexively. “Not yet.”

Nero’s scowled. “I thought we were in agreement on this?”

Lorenzo thought they were too, and he couldn’t understand why he was procrastinating.

It was only that since Kira had gotten out of the limo two days ago, he hadn’t been able to think of anything else but her. He should have dismissed her, put her out of his head and focused instead on the information she’d gotten him, the information that would bring his father down. Yet that wasn’t what he was thinking about.

All that was in his head were her blue eyes and desperation in them, as she’d told him that she’d never recover from him. That she had to protect herself. That she was so tired of trying, so tired of failing.

She was scared, he knew it. He’d seen the fear underneath her desperation, and he understood. She’d been hurt very badly by the accident and its aftermath, not to mention the hurt already received from her parents, and he could see why she wanted to protect herself.

It made his chest feel like it was clamped in a vise.

He’d been battling himself that day in the limo, battling the need to grab her and not let her get out, keep her with him no matter what she said. But he’d managed to force that primitive part of him back into the chains he’d bound it in after Katie had died.

He wasn’t that selfish anymore, and the right thing to do, the unselfish thing, had been to let her go. So he had.

She wanted to leave him in order to protect herself from potential hurt, and he had to let her.

Because God knew he couldn’t give her any guarantees. He couldn’t protect her from the pressure of his own demands. Pressure it wasn’t fair to put her under.

The decision should have made him feel better. Should certainly not still be lingering in his mind days after he’d made it. There shouldn’t be this hollow feeling in his chest, as if he was missing something vital to his wellbeing, a piece of himself. And he definitely shouldn’t be thinking of Kira’s face as she’d explained herself. Pale and drawn somehow, her deep blue eyes sparkling with what he’d thought were tears.

Letting her go had been the right thing to do. The only thing to do.

“Lorenzo, for fuck’s sake!”

Nero’s irritated voice penetrated and Lorenzo came to a sudden halt, realizing that this wasn’t the first time his brother had said his name.

“What?” he snapped.

His brother glowered at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He didn’t know. He couldn’t seem to focus. This was important. This was what he’d been pursuing for years, revenge for his mother’s sake. For Katie. Yet . . .

Why was Kira’s face the only thing he could see? Why did the fact that she’d gotten out of his limo with a tear running down her cheek matter so fucking much?

She wanted to end it, so he’d let her go. And he’d had to, hadn’t he?

“Jesus Christ, Lorenzo!”

He blinked. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re distracted. What the fuck’s got into you?” Abruptly, Nero’s dark eyes narrowed. “Where’s your intern?”

The question sent a hot shock the whole way down his spine, the hollow feeling in his stomach becoming acute. His hands clenched instinctively. “She’s gone. I had to let her go.”

Nero stared at him, and Lorenzo had the sudden, uncomfortable feeling that the other man was reading every single one of his thoughts. “Why? She seemed onto it.”

“She had a better job offer,” he lied.

“You sleeping with her?”

Lorenzo stiffened. “What? No.”

“Bullshit.” The word dripped with disbelief. “I saw you two together, don’t forget. The tension was off the fucking charts.”

A muscle ticked in Lorenzo’s jaw. Talking about his feelings to anyone let alone a half-brother he barely knew, wasn’t done, and he wasn’t about to start now. “That’s none of your business,” he said coldly.

“It is if it impacts on the what we’re going to do about Dad.” Nero’s look was very direct. “She walk out on you?”

“Yes.” The word just slipped out, he hadn’t meant to say it. And once it was out, he couldn’t take it back. Gritting his teeth, Lorenzo went on, “I’ll deal with it later.”

Nero snorted. “You want my advice?”

“No.”

“I let a woman walk out on me and it ended up being the best thing I ever did,” Nero went on, ignoring him completely. “Because it made me realize what I could live with and what I couldn’t live without.”

“I can live without her,” Lorenzo growled.

“Really? Because I couldn’t live without Phoebe.” Nero’s expression was unflinching. “You want to know what got me out of that house in the end? It was going after her. I thought letting her go was the right thing to do, but it wasn’t.”

The tightness in Lorenzo’s chest got worse. “Keeping her is selfish. She’s been hurt too many times already.”

Strangely, there was only understanding in Nero’s dark gaze. “You think you’re doing the noble thing, huh? Letting her go to protect her, right?”

He shouldn’t say anything. He shouldn’t continue this conversation. “Yes.”

“Yeah, that’s fucking bullshit too. Don’t kid yourself it’s about protecting her. It’s about protecting yourself.” Nero expression twisted. “Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. My advice to you is find your balls, brother. Because if you truly love her, it’s about doing the right thing for her. Not for yourself.”

If you love her . . .

“I never said anything about love,” he said stiffly, trying to ignore that aching, hollow feeling that was getting deeper, wider.

Nero only gave another disbelieving snort.

Lorenzo couldn’t blame him. It sounded weak, even to himself.

Love. Did he love Kira? Was that what this feeling was? With Katie, he’d fallen so hard and fast, throwing himself into it like he hadn’t been hurt before. Because he hadn’t been. But now things were different. He knew what it was like to love someone, and he knew what it was like to lose them.

Nero’s right. This is about you. It’s about fear. Your fear.

Lorenzo blinked, staring past his brother’s tall form silhouetted against the windows, out into the blazing, bright afternoon.

Was he afraid? Was it truly fear that had made him let Kira go? Was that him protecting himself, just as she was protecting herself? Was that what they both were doing? Protecting themselves from pain?

The knowledge washed over him like icy water on a hot day, shocking him. Because of course it was true, that’s exactly what he was doing. She’d wanted guarantees because she’d been hurt and he’d told her he couldn’t give them to her. He hadn’t given her the one thing she’d wanted, telling himself it was all about protecting her.

Remind you of anyone?

Shit. His father. Cold and emotionally unavailable, denying not only Lorenzo but his wife, too, the thing that both of them had wanted most of all. Love. Except Lorenzo didn’t know why his father had behaved the way he did, but he knew why he’d denied Kira.

It wasn’t about protecting her. It was about protecting himself.

Which means you know what the truly unselfish thing to do now is, don’t you?

He stared at his brother. “You went after her?”

If the question surprised Nero, he didn’t show it. “Yes. Scariest fucking thing I’ve ever done. But I did.”

“Was it worth it?”

Nero didn’t smile, but his hard features softened. “She changed my fucking life. She saved me. So yeah, it was worth it.”

Lorenzo stared at his brother, the hollow emptiness yawning wide with a hunger he’d always tried to leash that perhaps he couldn’t leash anymore. But this time it had a focus. This time it knew exactly what it wanted.

He couldn’t be his father. He couldn’t deny Kira what she wanted most of all.

“I have to go,” he said, his voice sounding weird.

Nero scowled. “What about Dad? We need to take this information to the police.”

“Do whatever you have to do.” He turned, a deep certainty settling down over him, a knowledge he couldn’t deny anymore. “I have somewhere to else to be.”

“Lorenzo,” Nero began.

But Lorenzo was already striding toward the doors of his office.

His father didn’t matter, neither did his revenge. His mother was dead, and so was Katie. And he could think of only one thing in the whole of his miserable goddamn life that mattered.

Kira.

He’d give her any guarantee she wanted. He’d give her forever. He’d give her his heart.

Because he loved her.

* * *

Kira blinked down at the piece of black silk she held in her hand. Dammit. There was another water stain on the delicate fabric, courtesy of the tears that came without warning, running down her cheeks and onto the material she was trying to stitch.

Maybe she shouldn’t have tried to do any sewing, especially not of the little pair of lacy shorts she’d last gotten out to show Lorenzo. Yeah, she didn’t need that reminder.

She’d just needed to do something with her hands, to focus on something else other than the pain that was sitting right where her heart should be, and sewing had always been her go-to thing.

But now, whenever she looked at the fabric, all she could see was Lorenzo’s silver eyes and the smile that had turned his mouth when she’d pulled them out of her sewing box. He’d been impressed and when she’d told him she was making them for herself, he’d immediately demanded she put them on ‘just to see how they fit’.

She’d refused, because she’d wanted him to see them when they were done. They were supposed to have been a surprise . . .

Another water stain bloomed on the fabric.

Shit.

Swallowing, Kira put down the shorts and wiped away the stupid tears.

There was no point in continuing with this, not now. Perhaps she should go and do something else.

She leaned back against the arm of the outdoor couch, the early-evening sun slanting over the terrace where she sat.

Hard to believe that the garden party had been here only a week earlier and that over there, near the parapet that bounded the terrace, was where she’d stood with Lorenzo. Just before she’d gone up to get the information he’d needed from her father’s office.

Just before he’d told her he wanted to keep seeing her.

Just before she’d refused him.

Her throat and her chest ached, and she knew no amount of swallowing or downing painkillers was going to make either of them feel better.

She’d thought that refusing him would save her more pain in the long run, but she wasn’t sure that was the case now.

Because it hurt. It just hurt.

She’d tried to focus on something else the whole week since then, half of her anticipating some kind of fight with her father about her unexpected presence in his office the day of the garden party. But Ivan didn’t mention it and when she asked him whether he was still mad about it, he’d told her not to worry about it. Which was odd. But she didn’t want to think about that too much because it reminded her of Lorenzo, so she’d concentrated on getting together a business plan for the kids’ classes and visiting local community centers searching for a location instead. The money Lorenzo had promised her arrived in her bank account without fuss and a small part of her had been disappointed that it had, because it meant she couldn’t go and ask him what was happening with it. Okay, not a small part. A large part.

She missed him. But that would get better, of course it would. Time would pass and she’d heal, and she’d realize she’d made the right decision after all.

Kira closed her eyes and let her head tip back against the arm of the couch. She was so tired, and the last few rays of the sun were warm on her face. The whole week she’d been sleeping really bad, her dreams full of silver eyes and hot, demanding hands on her body. Strong arms holding her close. Waking up every morning in an empty bed, without him, had been a lesson in torture.

Perhaps if she’d be lucky and if she had a nap now, she wouldn’t dream of him. Just once it would be nice if she didn’t.

But her mind apparently didn’t get the memo and she drifted into one of the nightmares that had been plaguing her recently, of being trapped behind a wall of thorns and knowing Lorenzo was on the other side and he was calling her. But for some reason she couldn’t speak and she couldn’t move, almost as if she was trapped and lying in the wreckage of a car, listening to help move further and further away.

Then the dream changed and the wall of thorns parted to reveal a man holding a sword. A man with silver eyes, cutting away the thorns that surrounded her. Freeing her. Then he strode to where she lay and knelt beside her, leaning over her.

Placing his mouth on hers.

A kiss to wake her from sleep.

A low moan broke from her. His mouth was so warm and familiar, and it felt so real. But, of course, it wouldn’t be. She always woke up alone.

“Kira.”

Her name whispered in a deep, dark voice, full of tenderness and heat. Full of everything that made her poor, stupid heart ache with longing.

When she woke this time, it was really going to hurt.

“Kira.”

She didn’t want to open her eyes. She didn’t want the harshness of reality shoved in her face. Not again.

“Kira. Wake up.”

The command in that beautiful voice was undeniable and her eyes opened no matter that she didn’t want them to.

And she found herself looking up into the same silver gaze that had been haunting her sleep for the past week.

It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t.

Then he smiled and she knew it couldn’t be him. Because she recognized that smile. Full of warmth and joy and. . . . love. That smile that wasn’t for her, could never be for her.

So it had to be another dream, right?

Lorenzo lifted a hand and cupped her cheek. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

She blinked as the heat of his palm connected with her bare skin. It felt real. It felt so real. “Lorenzo?” Her voice was scratchy and hoarse, not like her at all.

“I hope I didn’t frighten you. You looked so beautiful lying there asleep, I couldn’t help myself.”

“This is a dream, right? You’re not really here.”

That smile. It blinded her. “It’s not a dream, Kira.” His thumb moved on her cheek. “At least, your father might have thought the last ten minutes were a nightmare, but this definitely isn’t.”

She blinked again, her whole body drawing tight. He was leaning over her, so warm, so close, the familiar scent of him surrounding her. So real. “What are you doing here?”

He caressed her cheek, making everything inside her ache with longing. “What do you think? I’ve come to give you my heart. If you’ll have it.”

“W-what?” She didn’t move. Couldn’t. Shock was pulsing through her along with a desperate hope she was sure she shouldn’t feel.

His smile turned tender, his touch even gentler, as if she was a precious artifact he had to keep safe. “I shouldn’t have let you get out of that limo, Kira. I shouldn’t have let you go at all. I told myself I had to let you leave, that you wanted to go and so it was the unselfish thing to do. But it wasn’t. Because the decision was based on fear. My fear.

I was afraid of what I felt for you, Kira, and letting you go was the only way to protect myself.”

None of this made any kind of sense, which made it definitely a dream. “What do you mean what you felt for me?”

“I’m in love with you.” Another gentle movement of his thumb on her cheek. “And it scared me to death. I wanted to push you away, keep you at a distance. I thought it was about protecting you from what I wanted, trying not to make so many demands on you. But it wasn’t. It was more about keeping myself safe than anything else. And if that isn’t selfish, I don’t know what is.”

“Lorenzo.” She wanted to move, to break the spell. Open her eyes to the cold reality she woke up with every morning. Because her heart was breaking, and she couldn’t stand the pain.

“Kira.” The sound of her name, vibrating with passion, held her still. “I’ll give you whatever guarantees you need and you can have my heart along with them. I’ll promise to protect you with everything I have, do everything in my power to make you happy. And I’ll love you with everything I am.” His voice had gotten rougher, the lightning playing in his silver eyes, the hunger for her bleeding through the gray. “I know it might not be enough, but I’m offering it to you anyway.”

She didn’t want to believe it. She didn’t want to believe this wasn’t a dream. Because her heart was breaking into pieces, shaking itself apart with the force of her longing.

Of course, this is real and you know it.

She was afraid, so afraid. Having everything she’d ever wanted just within reach was something she’d never anticipated or ever thought she deserved. Not after everything she’d done.

But here it was anyway. This man. Offering his heart to her. Offering everything to her.

Her eyes filled with tears.

A part of her wanted to refuse him, to continue to protect herself, to curl around her fear that she didn’t deserve any of this and hope that it would protect her.

But in a way, he’d been right back there in the limo. There were no guarantees and maybe she didn’t deserve this. But denying herself what she wanted with all her heart wouldn’t change the past. Wouldn’t bring her friends back. Wouldn’t make her ADHD go away or make her parents magically proud of her. All it would do is make the pain worse. And she’d hurt for such a very long time.

Lorenzo had told her once, that first night they’d had together, that she had to stop punishing herself, and she hadn’t thought that’s what she’d been doing at the time, but maybe she had. And maybe it was time to stop.

Maybe it was time she allowed herself some happiness, if she had the courage to take it.

Kira had been a lot of things in her life, but a coward wasn’t one of them.

So she didn’t think. She obeyed the overwhelming urge that filled her, the feeling that had probably been lurking inside her from the moment she’d watched him smile at Katie all those years ago, lifting her hands to his face, pulling his mouth down on hers, kissing him desperately as the tears slipped down her cheeks. Giving him his answer.

When she finally lifted her head, she found they were both on the terrace floor beside the couch and he was holding her so tightly she knew he wasn’t going to let her go.

“I’m sorry,” she said huskily. “I don’t need guarantees. I always knew that. But . . . I was so tired of being hurt, and I thought that not being with you would hurt less. But it didn’t.” She pushed her fingers into the black silk of his hair, needing to keep touching him, keep reminding herself that this was real. “I think in the end it was about me feeling like I didn’t deserve you. Because of the accident. Because of my entire freaking life. I mean, I let so many people down, Lorenzo, and I couldn’t bear the thought of letting you down, too. Everyone in my entire life has been disappointed with me, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing you.”

His smile had vanished, but it was okay, because the fierce expression, the hunger that lived inside him, was there on his face. Burning hot, scorching her. “You can never let me down, Kira Constantin. You can never disappoint me. I love everything you are, and I never want you to change. The only thing I do want is your heart.” His arms tightened, his expression becoming even fiercer. “Give it to me, beautiful girl. Please.”

This time it was her turn to smile. To smile at him the way he’d smiled for Katie. The way he smiled at her just now. “You idiot,” she said softly. “You’ve had my heart since I saw you in Bryant Park when I was fourteen.”

The look in his eyes flared. “I’m not a nice man, Kira. I’m an asshole. And if you want to talk about what we deserve, I sure as hell don’t deserve you.”

“You’re also a liar.” She leaned forward and kissed him hard. “Of course, you deserve me. Who else is going to put up with my temper tantrums?”

His mouth was on hers again, hungry, with the sweet edge of desperation that she loved. “Tell me you’re mine,” he whispered. “Tell me I get to keep you.”

“I’m yours, and you get to keep me. For however long that will be.”

“Forever.” The lightning in his eyes was electrifying. “I want you forever.”

“Then forever it will be,” she said simply.

Epilogue

“It’s very simple,” Rafe said mildly and without preamble, leaning back in the massive black leather chair he was currently occupying. “I intercepted Nero before he could take the information to the board, and I have already spoken with Dad myself.”

Lorenzo stared down at the computer screen. It was currently displaying the interior of Rafe’s office, his middle brother staring blandly back at him.

Rafe had always been a particularly difficult person to read, especially because he never let any sign of his true emotions show. His expression was inevitably relaxed, laid-back, and charming. As the face of DS Corp. and heading its PR arm, he was the consummate politician, always calm, always smooth, and always with the perfect sound bite. Yet sometimes his silver-blue eyes glittered with an edge that was scalpel sharp and very, very dangerous.

They were glittering now.

“I don’t care what you do with the information,” Lorenzo said, just as mild, because he actually didn’t care. He didn’t even know why Rafe was bothering to call him about this. “I know you’re pissed Nero and I exposed Dad’s embezzling, but the truth was always going to come out.”

His brother gave him a neutral smile and lifted a shoulder. “You mistake me. I’m not pissed you exposed our father. In fact, I’m pleased because it saved me the trouble.”

Lorenzo frowned. “Care to explain what you mean by that?”

Rafe put his elbows on the desk and interlaced his fingers. “Not really. I only wanted to assure you that I have no intention of planning any revenge or making any move against you or Nero.”

Revenge? That was not Lorenzo’s first thought he had to say.

“Well, thank God for that,” Lorenzo said coolly. “I was worried there for a second.”

“You should be, brother mine. Because Dad has agreed to step down and has given control of DS Corp. to me.” Rafe’s smile widened, the cold scalpel edge glittering brightly in his eyes. “And I have no intention of giving it up.” Then he reached out toward the camera and the screen went dead.

Lorenzo stared at it for a second longer, debating whether this news mattered to him or not. Then, deciding it didn’t, he pushed shut the laptop, left the living room, and took the stairs two at a time to the terrace.

Outside, the stars were already out, burning like the tea lights glimmering in the holders scattered about.

But nothing was as bright as the woman lolling against the pillows of the daybed, her pale, naked form only just visible between the curtains he’d hung around said daybed for privacy’s sake. In the past few weeks, he and Kira had used it often.

Ducking back through the curtains, he pulled off the shorts he’d been wearing to save Rafe’s blushes, and got back onto the daybed, sliding down beside Kira and tugging her back into his arms, where she belonged.

“What did he want?” Kira asked.

“To tell me that the information we collected on Dad is now his and that apparently he’s spoken to Dad already and the old bastard has agreed to step down.”

“So what does that mean?” Kira folded her hands on his chest and looked at him. “Are you the big boss now?”

“No,” he replied slowly. “Rafe is.”

Kira’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh? But aren’t you the eldest? The heir?”

“I was.” Reaching out, he grabbed one pale curl and wound it around his finger, relishing the softness of it against his skin. “But I guess I’m not anymore.”

Her forehead creased. “Wow. But aren’t you upset about that? I mean, you don’t look upset . . .”

He thought about it, though not for very long because he already knew his answer. “No. I’m not upset. It was never about the company for me, not really. It was more about taking Dad down than anything else, and now that’s been accomplished . . .”

“Are you going to find something else then?”

He shook his head, rubbing the lock of hair around his finger with his thumb. “I don’t think so. I like the job and besides, someone’s going to have to keep an eye on that sneaky bastard Rafe. It may as well be me.”

“You are very good at keeping an eye on people,” she agreed, giving him a wicked look from beneath her lashes. “Oh, by the way, the center said yes.”

He grinned, pulling the lock of hair again gently. One of the community centers she’d been courting had shown a great deal of interest in her kids’ classes, and she’d been expecting a decision from them today. “That’s fantastic. Then again, they’d be crazy to refuse.”

She blushed. “Well, you never know.”

“I do,” he said firmly. “I always know.”

“Such arrogance, Mr. de Santis.” Her blue eyes were glowing. “Next you’ll be telling me you’re never wrong.”

Goddamn she was lovely, and he never got tired of looking at her. Never got tired of being with her, period. Which reminded him . . .

“I got you something,” he murmured, shifting on the daybed and reaching for the small box he’d hidden under the pillows earlier, wanting to surprise her.

She blinked, looking down at the box he was holding out. “Lorenzo . . .”

“You know it’s not an engagement ring. You’ve already got one of those.”

Color washed over her skin. “Yes, I know. But still. You don’t need to get me anything else.”

“Of course, I do.” He held out the box. “Go on. Open it.”

Kira sat up and took the box from him, shaking her head. But she opened it up anyway and he watched as her eyes went wide, giving him one startled glance before looking back down at the box again.

Pleasure lit her face and wonder, too, as she reached down and brought out the necklace he’d brought her.

The small, platinum paper crane swung and turned on the fine chain it was attached to.

Her eyes were glowing a deep, intense blue and she didn’t speak, but he didn’t need her to. The memory and love he saw in her face told him everything he needed to know.

And much, much later, when candles had guttered out and the stars were burning more brightly in the sky, and they were resting in each other’s arms, their heartbeats slowing finally and their breathing calming, Kira looked up at him, her eyes dark, the color of the sky above them. “Smile at me,” she whispered, the paper crane lying gleaming in the hollow of her throat.

So he did. The smile that was hers and hers alone.

Just like his heart.

Excerpt: THE BIG, BAD BILLIONAIRE

Read on for an excerpt from the next Billionaire Fairy Tale novella

THE BIG, BAD BILLIONAIRE

Coming soon from Swerve

Excerpt

Ella’s eyes had gone silver, like the stars in the sky, a pretty contrast to the delicate pink blush that stained her cheeks. Her skin felt so soft against his palms, as soft as he’d always imagined it would be. No, maybe even more so.

A kiss. Right now.

The lovely cupid’s bow of a mouth was the same pink as her cheeks, and he knew it was going to taste so fucking sweet. She was so little and fragile and perfect. Scared and yet so very brave at the same time.

Offering him something that he wanted very, very badly indeed.

He took a slow, silent breath, staring down into her face. Fearfulness glittered in her eyes, along with a defiant anger that made his blood pump hard in his veins. She was looking at him directly, all her attention on him instead of glancing away, and he felt it move over him like sunlight. Making him want to lift his head and close his eyes, glory in the warmth of it on his skin.

She’d never looked at him like this before, and it made him hungry for more. He didn’t want to be ignored or held at arm’s length, not by her. In fact, he couldn’t stand the thought of it.

This was what he wanted. Her attention on him. All her passionate emotions—whether fury or desire or fear-—directed at him. Yes, and now he had that attention, he definitely wasn’t going to give it up.

Patience, remember? You should wait.

Yeah, he knew that. But fuck, she was offering what he’d wanted very badly for years, and maybe he should take it. After all, hadn’t he always planned that tonight he’d take a kiss from her? See what kind of chemistry they had between them? Perhaps he should have been upfront with her from the outset, but he hadn’t wanted her to run from him.

Sure, it would be a pity not to have the dinner, but he was in no hurry. There would be plenty of time for other dinners. Yes, he’d wanted her to give the kiss to him because she was as desperate as he was, not because she was pissed, but then you couldn’t have everything.

You can’t let her dictate terms. Once she knows she has power over you, that’s the end.

Ridiculous. She had no power here and they both knew it. But maybe letting her think she could manipulate him wouldn’t be a bad idea. People became careless once they thought they had the upper hand. They became complacent, dropped their guard. Which is exactly what he wanted from her.

“A kiss now, huh?” He pressed his fingertips lightly against the softness of her skin, enjoying the warmth against his palms. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

“I’m sure.”

She swallowed and he couldn’t help but follow the movement of her long, pale throat, to the pulse that leapt and fluttered at the base of it. Pretty. So very pretty.

“Okay, then.” The words were a little husky, which should have worried him yet didn’t. Not with the heat of her body so close to his and the rain-soaked scent of flowers all around him, muting the constant restlessness that moved like a million ants beneath his skin. “Have it your way. I’ll have the kiss now and then take you home.”

She inhaled, and he could feel tension gather in her jaw and neck. In the rest of her small, slender body. It looked like she was bracing herself for an unpleasant task that she was nevertheless determined to endure.

Brave little bunny. Silly little bunny. Did she really think kissing him would be unpleasant? It made him want to play with her a bit as a punishment, for that and for wanting out of his special dinner.

He let his gaze roam over her, stroking his thumbs along the line of her jaw before sliding his fingers along and around the fragile curve of her skull, tipping her head back further, exposing her throat.

Her eyes widened in alarm, her body going rigid.

He ignored it. “Hmmmm, what kind of kiss shall I take? Shall I take it . . .” He ran one thumb along the line of her lower lip. “Here? Or maybe . . .” Letting one hand drop, he brushed his fingertips against the frantically racing pulse at the base of her neck. “Here?” Her skin was so very soft and silky there, too, and he felt the tremble that shook her body as he touched her.

“I said one kiss, Rafael.” There was a thread of something running through her voice. A thread of something . . . hot.

He looked into her eyes, studying the expression in them, a complicated mixture of fear and anger, and . . . was that reluctant excitement? “You did say that. You just didn’t specify where.”

She blinked rapidly. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

“Then you’ll know for future reference, won’t you?” He let his hand drop lower. “Maybe I’ll kiss you . . .” One fingertip brushed over the front of her gray sweater, grazing the hardened tip of her nipple through the wool. “Here.”

The breath came out of her in a soft rush of sound, her eyes getting rounder, but he’d already moved his hand lower down, touching the button of her jeans. “Or maybe even . . .” He lightly stroked down the denim covering her zipper. “Here.”

Ella took another gasping breath, shivering, the flush in her cheeks getting deeper, staring at him as if she’d never seen him before in her entire life. It was delicious the way she looked at him. Finally, after years of him watching her, she was at last seeing him.

Suddenly, he wanted to push her. Drop to his knees in front of her and undo the button on her jeans, take down her zipper, spread the denim and uncover that sweet little pussy of hers. Take the kiss he was owed from her there.

But that would be getting ahead of himself. He wanted her begging him for that, and she certainly wasn’t at that stage yet. And besides, he wasn’t entirely sure that if he started kissing her there, he’d be able to stop and that was not what he’d promised himself.

“No,” he said. “Maybe not there. Not yet.” He slid his fingers back along her jaw, cradling her head in both palms and tipping it back even more. The sound of her breathing was audible in the silent room, fast and ragged, her lashes falling, veiling her gaze.

“That’s right, don’t look at me,” he taunted softly, unable to help himself. “I’m too frightening, aren’t I?”

She jerked her head in violent negation, but she didn’t open her eyes.

He wanted to force her to open them, to look at him, to watch as he kissed her, but then that would be rushing things and he didn’t want to do that. Not with her. A slow seduction was what he was after, a gradual wearing down of her defenses. Because that was the most delicious part of all, undermining her dislike of him, changing it into something else, into a passion she wouldn’t be able to deny.

Rafe let her keep her protective darkness as he lowered his head to the pale arch of her throat. He paused for a moment, inhaling the scent of roses and the tantalizing hint of feminine musk. Allowed himself a smile, because if he wasn’t much mistaken, that was the scent of arousal. The way he had her head tipped back in his hands meant her body was arched into his, and the thin wool of her sweater was pulling tight over her small breasts, letting him see the hardened points of her nipples. Yes, very definitely arousal.

Satisfaction rolled through him, and his smile widened as he closed the distance, pressing his mouth gently against the racing pulse at the base of her throat.

A single kiss. A brush of his lips against her skin. A butterfly kiss to confuse her, to tantalize her. Make her shiver and wish for more.

At least, that’s what he’d intended it to be. But then she sighed, and it sounded like surrender, and all the tension left her body. She became pliant in his hands, leaning into him as if she wanted his touch, as if she needed it to keep her upright.

And something went off like a firework in his head, a switch being tripped.

He opened his mouth, unable to stop himself, touching the delicate skin of her throat with his tongue, tasting salt and roses and something else he couldn’t describe. Something that was intrinsically Ella. Hot and musky and so delicious it stole the breath from him.

He found his fingers curling into her hair, pressing against the side of her head, holding her more firmly as he opened his mouth wider, closing his teeth very gently over the delicate tendons at the side of her neck.

She made a soft sound and shuddered, her hands coming up. And he expected her to try and push him away, but she didn’t. Instead her fingers closed around his forearms, holding on tightly, her breathing frantic as she leaned back into his palms, exposing her throat even further. As if she wanted more.

Yes. Fucking yes. Christ how long had he waited for her? Two whole years of sitting in the dark at the back of the theater, watching her dance her heart out across the stage. Wanting her. Hating every male dancer who touched her, wishing it was himself with his hands on her supple body. Wishing she’d look at him the way she looked at them. With passion and longing. Wishing it was real.

Well, now it fucking was.

Hell, why keep waiting? He could have her right here, right now. On the floor or on the table, he didn’t much care where. Have her naked body finally bare to him, to his hands, to his mouth . . .

No. You were going to be patient, remember? If you take her now, you won’t leave her wanting more.

Ah, fuck. Of course. He couldn’t gorge himself now, no matter how much he wanted to. He had a plan and he couldn’t forget that. He hadn’t when he was plotting his father’s downfall and he shouldn’t now just because she’d made his dick hard.

He was master of himself, and even though keeping himself in check had been one of the hardest lessons to learn, he’d done it. He wouldn’t lose control, not ever again.

About the Author

Jackie Ashenden lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, the inimitable Dr. Jax, and their two kids and two cats. When she’s not torturing alpha males and their stroppy heroines, she can be found drinking chocolate martinis, reading anything she can lay her hands on, posting random crap on her blog, or being forced to go mountain biking with her husband.

Jackie writes dark, sexy contemporary romance for St Martin’s Press, including the New York Billionaires Club series of novellas. You can find Jackie at www.jackieashenden.com or follow her on Twitter @JackieAshenden.

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Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright Notice

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

Epilogue

Excerpt: THE BIG, BAD BILLIONAIRE

About the Author

Contents

Copyright Page

Copyright Page

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

“The Billionaire’s Intern” Copyright © 2017 by Jackie Ashenden.

Excerpt from Big, Bad Billionaire Copyright © 2017 by Jackie Ashenden.

All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.stmartins.com

Jacket design by Crystal Ben; couple © Serg Zastavkin/Shutterstock.com; vines © Leone V/Shutterstock.com; texture © Sheena Koontz/Shutterstock.com

Author photo © Jackie Coates

eISBN 9781250136763 (ebook)

First eBook Edition: August 2017

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