CHAPTER ONE

For the first time in forever, I was going out.

My best friend, Delaney, and her other best friend, Emmy, had talked about this for weeks. They’d been out a few times without me because I just couldn’t make the time. I’d spent the last ten days working from six in the morning until seven at night on this new deal.

Three board members had to be convinced to sign one of the biggest deals of my father’s career. My father said there was a lot resting on it, so it meant a lot that he assigned me to manage it.

Nothing was more important to me right now than work.

This was my first big test—could I complete it on my own without him at my side if things went wrong? Could I seal three complicated deals and walk away with exactly what I wanted?

My mouth was dry just thinking about it. It was incredibly flattering that he trusted me with something this important.

The only catch? He’d insisted I work alongside one of the other organization’s people—a Welsh mafia soldier, to be exact. God, it made me roll my eyes every time I thought about it.

I didn’t need some stuffy, boring guy who’d probably spend the entire time we were working together patronizing me. I’d worked with men for the last four years I”d spent in my father’s business, and I knew the drill. Honestly, I was a little insulted my father wanted me on a team with one of their people—the Welsh organization owned our biggest competitor.

I was ready to do this on my own.

But that could wait. Tonight was Saturday, and I’d bought a new dress and shoes. For the next few hours, I was going to go out with my friends and have a drink. I’d be home by eleven, have a mug of warm lemon water, and take a long, hot shower before bed. I couldn’t be hungover because, even though it would be Sunday morning, I still had to stop by the office.

In my bathroom, I put the finishing touches on my mauve lipstick. It was a pretty sheen, with some lip liner to keep it in check. Elegant and sophisticated, with my signature touch—silver and mauve glitter.

Something about those colors together gave me peace.

My earliest memory was being a toddler and waking up to the wind chimes outside my window—purple hummingbirds and silver bells, moving in the wind. I barely remembered anything else until kindergarten, until my father had to sit me down and explain why it was just me and him.

Death was a hard thing to explain to a child that young, but I remembered nothing of my mother. I was fortunate to have a father who loved me so much that he strove to fill both parental roles.

He put me in therapy. I talked through my thoughts. The therapist told my father I was remarkably well adjusted.

Ambitious was a better word. If my father wanted me to talk through my issues with a therapist and work through the exercises, I was going to be the best patient that therapist had ever had.

The same with gymnastics when I was seven.

Band when I was nine.

Dressage and polo when I was fourteen.

That phase stuck around for a while. My father moved in wealthy circles, and it was beneficial for him to rub elbows with the other fathers taking their daughters to polo matches. They all had money, lots of it.

Eventually, I went to college and was president of the polo team and the tennis club. On weekends, I drank strawberry mimosas at the country club with my father and filled the social void where my mother should have sat.

It was, after all, what was expected of me.

I pulled myself out of thoughts of strawberry mimosas, summertime at the club, and polo matches that stained my boots green, and looked around.

Where was my purse?

I left the bathroom with my towering heels clicking in my wake. Usually, I stuck to classic pumps, but tonight, we were going out to let our hair down, so I opted for chunky mauve platforms. They paired well with my daring little black dress.

Tonight felt different, and I wanted to dress for the occasion. Maybe tonight, I wasn’t an overworked COO in training. Maybe I could be bold and sexy.

My phone rang as I descended the stairs, and I swiped it, hitting the speaker button.

“Hey, do you have a ride?” Delaney bubbled.

She sounded giddy, probably because she’d given up on hoping I’d actually stop working and go out with them for once.

“I’ve got an Uber waiting outside,” I said, moving down the marble hall. “I just have to find my purse.”

It could be anywhere in this enormous, old home. My father’s house was a huge mansion outside Providence, in a private neighborhood. A thick apple orchard and a stacked stone fence kept us back from the road. The long drive was lined with glossed pebbles sunk into concrete and ended in a circular drive. To the right, at the edge of the orchard, was my koi pond. In the summer, I brought my thirteen ancient koi out to enjoy the fresh air and ample bugs. In the winter, I switched them to a tank inside. They were my only frivolous pastime. Everything else I did with my time made money for my father’s company.

“I’ll bet you left your purse on the hall table,” Delaney said.

I glanced up and, sure enough, my little velvet designer bag was right there. I grabbed it, rifling through to make sure I’d included everything I needed for tonight—ID, credit card, painkillers, a mini water bottle, just-in-case tampons, and pepper spray.

“You’re right. I got it,” I said, tapping in the code to lock the door, holding the phone with the other hand. “Where are you coming from?”

“We just got here,” she said. “Emmy had her brother drop us off. Do you think we’ll be able to get a ride back?”

“It won’t be that late. I’m sure there’ll be an Uber somewhere to take us back,” I said, stepping out onto the back porch.

It was warm, and the yard smelled of green apples and sunshine. A silver car waited by the garage—not an Uber; that part I’d lied about. My father was too protective to let me take taxis, so I was going to have our private chauffeur drive me and drop me off a block from the bar so no one felt awkward.

Delaney and Emmy had money, but not the way my father did. Not the way I would someday when I inherited the company.

Guilt twinged in my stomach.

I shrugged it back and slid into the back seat. Our driver, Louis, turned the air conditioning up and leaned back, putting the car in drive. He was about my age and had just started a few years ago. My father trusted him enough to let him drive me, but only after doing his first two years on our security team.

“Hey, Louis,” I sighed. “How’s your wife?”

“Ready to pop,” he said, pulling onto the road. “She doesn’t want my paternity leave to start yet. I think she wants me out of the house.”

I smiled. “How long did my father give you?”

“Three months,” he said. “That’s all I asked for, and I’m coming back part time.”

“Good. Just let me know if you need more,” I said.

He dipped his head. “What’s the plan for tonight?”

I chewed my lip, watching the stone fences and trees slip by. “I’m just trying to get out of my head. Emmy’s birthday was yesterday, so we’re going out to that new bar downtown.”

“You need a bodyguard?”

“I’m good,” I said.

He glanced at me in the rearview mirror from beneath the brim of his baseball cap. “I’m glad you’re getting out. Not to get into your business too much, but you work hard, Circe.”

I nodded. “I know. My father has a lot resting on me. I don’t want to let him down.”

“He’ll still love you, you know,” Louis said quietly.

For some reason, that hit me right where I was tired and tender. My lashes were suddenly wet, and I flipped down the mirror behind his seat and dabbed my cheeks.

“Damn it, Louis, don’t get philosophical on me,” I sniffed. “I just did my makeup.”

He shook his head, smiling. “Sorry, ma’am. I’ll make sure not to next time.”

We both laughed, and I changed the subject to lighter things. The weather, the tourists that crowded the beach-side towns, the music festival he was planning on taking his wife to in Newport next year. A few minutes later, we pulled into downtown Providence, and he found a spot to park a block down from the bar.

I got out, and he rolled his window down.

“I’m going to watch you walk into the bar,” he said, his voice firm.

“You don’t have to,” I sighed.

“I work for your father,” he said. “And he pays me to keep you safe while I’m driving you.”

I lifted my phone. “I’ll call you right away if anything happens. But it’ll be a crowded bar, and I’ll be with Emmy and Delaney all night. Okay?”

He nodded, but he didn’t budge. Sighing, I waved and started walking down the sidewalk. His car pulled out and slipped into traffic, easing along beside me until I pulled open the front door of the bar. I slipped inside and watched as he drove off.

For one beautiful second, I was alone, despite being in a packed room. Then, someone tapped my shoulder, and I turned to find Emmy bouncing with excitement.

I’d only met her a few years ago, but I understood why Delaney liked her so much. She was bright, always in a good mood. I envied that about her. She was also that one friend who always had her head in the clouds. I’d had to pull her out of traffic a half dozen times, and I’d pepper sprayed a man trying to convince her to get in his sports car, but she meant well.

She was one of the smartest people I knew, with two degrees in the sciences. She just didn’t have an ounce of street smarts.

“Hey, you look amazing,” she cried, throwing her arms around me.

“So do you, babe,” I said, hugging her.

She pulled back, jerking her head towards the back of the bar as she dragged me into the crowd. “We have a table. Let’s go.”

She wore a short white dress with pink cap sleeves and matching stacked heels. Her blonde ponytail bobbed, and her gold jewelry glittered. The overall impression was of a pink frosted cupcake.

Delaney was at a standing table in the corner, talking to the bartender. He was a lanky man in a t-shirt that said EAT LOCAL in capital letters and pussy in tiny italics below it. I admired that; it took guts to show up to work in that shirt.

Delaney was giving him eyes and biting her lip. He was just her type, and I could tell he was into her relaxed aura. Her sundress hung off her slender frame, her nipples poking through the organic linen. She never wore a bra, which I admired but couldn’t emulate. Tonight, she’d worn her hair up and her septum piercing with a blue bead to match her eyeshadow.

She glanced over as we approached. “See you,” she said, her voice low as she fluttered her lashes at the bartender. He took the hint and vanished.

“So I take it you’re not leaving with us tonight,” I said, hugging her.

She shook her head. “Tonight is girl’s night. No exceptions.”

“Perfect,” I said, hugging her. “What are we drinking?”

Emmy turned to the bar, stretching to look over the sea of heads. Even with stacked heels, she was short. “I ordered us all margaritas to start. Is that okay?”

“Perfect,” I said.

“There they are,” she said, stepping out of the way as the other bartender appeared with a tray.

I snagged one and took a deep drink, trying to get my tight shoulders to relax. It had been a long day of sitting in meetings. The sweet, salty margarita spread over my tongue, reminding me of how long it had been since I let my hair down and had a drink with my friends.

Weeks.

Maybe months.

Emmy started chatting about the boy she was talking to. He didn’t sound like much of a catch to me, but she was excited, so I didn’t say anything. Delaney was a lot harsher, giving the one photo Emmy had of him a cold glance and shaking her head.

“He looks like a fuckboy,” she sighed.

Emmy turned the phone around, frowning. “Oh, maybe he does. I don’t know. I didn’t think about that.”

“I mean, that’s fine. If you just want him for sex,” she sniffed.

Emmy blushed, shaking her ponytail back. “You know I’m not having sex.”

“Not having it?” I asked. “Or won’t have it?”

She shoved her phone back in her purse and took a deep sip of her drink. “Won’t. I’m waiting for the right man with lots of money. This hair and these nails don’t pay for themselves.”

I laughed, knowing full well Emmy wasn’t very money motivated. She had her first degree in a niche field of science that I didn’t understand, but she spent a lot of time in a lab for less money than I thought she deserved. I mentioned helping her get a raise once, and she’d just giggled.

“No, thanks,” she’d said. “I’m just happy to be here.”

She still lived with her parents—we all did, except for Delaney, who had lost hers early on and lived with her older brother, Yale. None of us felt an enormous level of pressure to make money at this stage. The reason I worked myself such long hours had more to do with pressure and expectations.

We started talking about sex, then dating, and finally began picking through all the single men we knew. Delaney was involved through her brother with the Welsh Mafia organization, which I didn’t know much about. It was a secretive, underground circle of extraordinarily wealthy men and women. I knew the head of it, Merrick Llwyd, spent a lot of time negotiating business deals throughout the city, some of which involved my father.

And then there was the other deal—the one I was supposed to be working on with one of their men.

The point of all that being, some of the men in that organization were fine. Delaney had tried to set me up with her brother a few times, but he was disappointingly obsessed with someone else. It was too bad; he was hot.

Speaking of hot men…my eyes skimmed over Emmy’s head to the bar. The bartender with the pussy shirt was leaning on his elbows, talking with a tall, lean man with black hair.

Something about him held my attention.

He wore a dark t-shirt, and down his right arm were dark, heavy lined tattoos, like the curves of ancient architecture. They disappeared beneath his sleeve and reappeared to curl up one side of his neck, stopping below his jaw.

I dragged my gaze up his lean back, his long legs. A little bit of warmth stirred down below.

He was good looking—I could tell that before he even turned around—and I didn’t say that about a lot of men.

But then, he turned around, and my heart screeched to a stop as a pins and needles sensation splintered through my body. His heavy lids moved over the rim of his glass as he lifted a beer to his lips. They met mine, glittering in the low lights.

We both froze.

A current of electricity sizzled between our bodies. Despite all the people between us, it felt like he was right here, burning me up with his blue eyes.

God, he was gorgeous.

Heat prickled down my spine, and I swore I was sweating beneath my bra. I tugged at my neckline and regretted it, hoping he didn’t think I was trying to show my cleavage.

The corner of his mouth jerked up, and to my utter panic, he pushed off the bar and started towards me.

I whipped around, realizing I was alone. Where had Emmy and Delaney gone?

Heart thumping in my chest, I spun in a slow circle, trying to see through the people around me. It was getting darker outside. Inside the bar was dim, lit by lowlights wound around the periphery of the room.

I turned—there he was, a foot away. He had a strong face, a heavy nose with an aquiline arch, a thin, masculine mouth, and beautiful eyes, dark cobalt blue with long, black lashes.

“Hey,” he said.

My lips were dry. “Hi,” I whispered.

He held out his hand. I saw a flash of tattooed knuckles, and then he shook my cold palm.

“You look lost, sweetheart,” he drawled.

“No, not lost,” I said. “I have friends. They went to the…bathroom.”

He took a sip of his beer, his throat bobbing. “Oh yeah?”

He had a deep, drawling voice with an accent. It took me a moment to place it because it had clearly faded, but it sounded English. It wasn’t that stereotypical accent Americans always imagined. No, it was a little rougher and sat deep in his chest.

“I’m Cece,” I lied.

“Caden Payne,” he said.

My heart sank.

Oh no, I knew who this was, even if he clearly didn’t recognize me. I’d seen his name on the paperwork. This was the mafia soldier I was supposed to complete my mission with, the one from the Welsh Mafia organization, my business partner in the deal my father had assigned to me.

I resented that my father thought I needed help to get the job done, so I’d been prepared to hate him on sight.

But he was too sexy to hate.

My head spun. His eyes dropped to my empty margarita glass, and he reached out and took it.

“Let me get you another.”

There wasn’t room to protest in his voice, and I found I didn’t want to. I had a drink under my belt, and I’d just spent an hour talking about men with Emmy and Delaney.

And, in the broader perspective, I was also beyond horny from being celibate for the last five years.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just …talk to him. He clearly didn’t know who I was, so what would it matter? Before I could speak, he took the glass from my hand and disappeared into the crowd.

My feet were locked to the ground.

The intelligent part of my brain told me to walk away.

The rest of me that was still tingling just from his presence told me to stay.