Chapter One

ESMé

If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all. I glance down at the broken heel on my shoe and curse the day that I brought them. I hobble into the bar and plop onto a stool.

“We’re about to close,”

the man says, sizing me up.

“I’m sorry. I just needed a warm place to wait for my Uber.”

“Good luck with that. I doubt anyone’s driving in this mess,”

he says, waving a hand at the door.

“The last update said one would be here in eighteen minutes.”

“How far are you traveling?”

“Back to Snowmass.”

He sighs grumpily and asks, “What can I get you while you wait, beautiful?”

“A bourbon neat,”

I mumble, glancing at my phone.

I’ve been trying to get an Uber to take me from downtown Aspen back to my resort for the last twenty minutes with no luck.

“One bourbon neat coming up.”

My phone buzzes again, and I roll my eyes, seeing that it isn’t Uber. I hit ignore and turn my attention to the TV over the bar. It’s been predicted that the city is about to be snowed in for the next few days. The blizzard that’s dumping snow on Aspen is expected to shut the city down completely.

Perfect. Maybe my father won’t be able to fly in and get me. My phone buzzes again, and I groan, dropping my head on my forearm when I see that it’s him and not Uber.

I’m too grown not to be able to make my own choices. But when your father is the Don of a powerful Italian mafia family, what the hell are you to do?

I love my father, but it’s times like this that I wish my French mother had met a gorgeous black man and produced me. But of course, she’d be attracted to my father, have a whirlwind interracial romance, and produce me, a spoiled mafia princess, my father’s words, not mine.

“Here you are, beautiful,”

the bartender says, serving my drink with a napkin and a flourish.

I check my Uber status again, sip my drink, and turn my eyes to the TV again. I really hope the ride comes through and gets me out of here before I get snowed in downtown.

The door opens again and a breeze and snow ushers in another guest.

“Daniil,”

the bartender says.

“Max,”

a man greets with a thick Russian accent.

“I ain’t seen you in over a week. Where the hell have you just blown in from?” he asks.

The man takes a seat on the stool beside me and says nothing. He simply taps his fingers on the bar and waits. I watch as the bartender prepares his order, a Macallan, and serves it to him.

The man stares straight ahead, seemingly looking at nothing.

“Of all the days you two decide you want to drink your misery away, it would be the one night they’re predicting the city to shut down. At least you can walk home. This one is gonna be stuck here,”

he says to the man while waving his hand in my direction. “I gotta go home soon. I don’t wanna be stuck down here,” the bartender says.

“Max.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up,”

the man says.

That’s the most that he’s said since he arrived. Max does as he asks and busies himself cleaning up. By the time I finish my drink, the man known as Daniil is on his third.

“I’ve gotta go home, Daniil.”

“You live upstairs over the bar,”

Daniil says.

“Fuck you,”

Max says, smirking.

My phone rings again, as it has been doing every two minutes since I arrived. I feel the man’s eyes on me.

I look over at him and lift an eyebrow.

“What?”

“You gonna answer that?”

“You got a problem if I don’t?”

“Yeah. Turn it off.”

“Someone’s cranky tonight,” I mutter.

The man spins around on his stool, and hazel eyes assess me closely while he’s drinking his Macallan. I, in turn, eye him back.

He’s actually quite handsome despite his crooked nose, which appears to have been broken at some point. When he pulls his drink away from those full, pouty lips, a slight smirk dances across them.

“What?”

“I’m not a fucking toddler,”

he says as the smirk disappears.

He turns back to his drink and faces forward at the bar. I take advantage of that opportunity and take in his chiseled jawline, thick, dark brown hair, and bushy, almost unibrow. There’s stubble on his jaw as if he shaved two days ago and then said fuck it. It connects to the mustache above his lip.

“Anything else I can do for you?” he asks.

“No,”

I bite out, turning on my stool and pulling up the Uber app on my phone. “Are you freaking kidding me?” I groan.

“What? They cancel it?” Max asks.

“No. Pushed it back by half an hour.”

“They’re gonna cancel it,”

Max says before he walks to the back somewhere, leaving me alone with the man, Daniil.

“It’s Christmas Eve. This isn’t shaping up to be a beautiful holiday,”

I complain.

Daniil takes another sip of his drink and stares at the TV above us.

“Is it always this empty in this bar?” I ask.

He says nothing.

“What about you? What are your plans for the holiday? Are they ruined by the snow? I’ll bet you had plans to travel. Or maybe someone was coming to visit you,”

I suggest.

He turns those golden eyes my way again.

“Do you want to fuck?”

“Excuse me?”

I ask, glaring at him.

He turns and glares back at me.

“I asked if you want to fuck,”

he enunciates very clearly.

Laughing, I ask, “Are you kidding me?”

Shrugging, he asks, “Do I look like a man who tells jokes?”

“Clearly you are,”

I say in astonishment.

“It’s a simple question. Yes or no.”

“No. I would not like to fuck. I don’t even know you,”

I say, only mildly outraged but partially intrigued by his boldness.

“You don’t have to know me to fuck me. Strangers do it all the time, all day, every day.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because I have some decency about myself.”

“I do, too.”

“Then why are you propositioning me?”

“Because you talk too much.”

“I was just trying to make small talk.”

“I was just getting to the point.”

“Do you always ask that of strangers?”

“No.”

“Then why would you insult me that way?”

“It wasn’t an insult.”

“It wasn’t a compliment!”

“If I see someone who intrigues me, then I pursue them.”

“I intrigue you?”

“No.”

“I’m not following.”

“You are a beautiful woman. It is Christmas Eve, and I came out here with two objectives tonight. Plain and simple.”

“To find a stranger to fuck?”

“To forget about the last twenty-four hours and to find a beautiful woman to fuck.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

I ask clearly forgetting about the way he just insulted me.

He stares blankly at me, and I feel my cheeks warm.

I turn away from him.

“Truth or dare.”

“What?”

I ask, turning back again, enthralled by this man.

This is the oddest encounter I’ve ever had with a stranger, and it might be my last after my father returns me to Italy.

“Truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

“Are you a virgin?”

“No! Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Your turn.”

“I don’t want to play with you.”

“Play with me,”

he says in such a sexy way that I feel myself clenching my thighs involuntarily.

“No.”

“Play. With. Me,”

he growls, sliding to the edge of his stool and closing the distance between us.

“Fine. Truth or dare.”

He bites his bottom lip.

“Dare.”

Fuck! I should’ve known.

“I dare you to call up the last woman you had sex with and put her on the phone.”

“That’s gonna be a bit of a problem.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t get her name or number.”

“So, this is routine for you.”

Shaking his head, he says, “No. It isn’t. Just happens that I find myself back in a familiar situation.”

“Okay, then you’ve lost.”

“No, I didn’t. I can call the woman before her and put her on the phone.”

“Lady, if you choose to go with him, you’re safe. Daniil, I’m going upstairs to my apartment now. Lock up when you leave,”

Max says, returning from the kitchen area in boredom and then disappearing again.

“Fine,”

I say, ignoring Max’s departure.

He pulls out his phone, pushes some buttons, and then sets it on the bar.

A woman answers.

“What, Daniil?”

“Am I a bastard, Nicole?”

“Yes, you are. But you already know this, so why are you asking me?”

“Do I cause harm to anyone?”

“Their hearts…absolutely,”

she says emphatically.

I find myself intrigued by this exchange.

“You’re not helping your case,”

I whisper.

“Am I a good lay in bed?”

“The best I’ve ever had!”

she agrees ardently. “If your ass is in Miami, you should stop by tonight.”

“I’m at my home in Denver.”

“Damn, too bad. I heard y’all are about to be snowed in.”

“Yeah, and I’m trying to make sure that I’m warm and cozy for the blizzard,”

he says, his eyes darkening as he watches me.

A shiver runs through me because why does it feel as if he’s a wolf and I’m the prey?

“Dani, are you calling me trying to woo some woman into your bed? If so, the only advice that I have for her is…Run!”

Daniil laughs and jabs a button on his phone, ending the call.

My phone buzzes at the exact same moment. Glancing at it, I groan.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“They canceled?”

“Yes! Why would they do that?”

“Have you seen the storm, lady? Even the best all-terrain vehicles aren’t equipped to handle the snow coming in.”

“It’s Colorado! Surely you all should be equipped—”

“We already have over twelve inches of snow, and it’s still coming down hard. No one is going anywhere. So, I guess you’ll be cozying up in this bar.”

“It’s Christmas Eve! I don’t want to spend my Christmas Eve in a bar!”

I shriek in astonishment.

Shrugging, he says, “What else are you going to do?”

“There has to be a place I can stay.”

“All booked.”

“Are you serious?”

“Check for yourself,”

he says, pointing at my phone.

I spend the next twenty minutes calling every hotel, lodge, and inn in the area only to hear what Daniil has already said.

“What am I gonna do?”

I whine. “Could I stay at your place?”

He scowls at me, and I swear he growls.

“I don’t want to stay in a bar,”

I say, pointing around the beer-soaked establishment that has a heavy cloud of cigarette smoke hanging oppressively in the air.

“Either that or stay upstairs with Max.”

Screwing my face up, I say, “That’ll never do.”

Those beautiful hazel eyes darken as he licks his lips and moves off his stool to stand in front of mine.

“Looks like we’re snowed in together. We can make each other very happy this Christmas Eve.”

“Who says that I’m not already happy?”

“The way you’re constantly looking at your phone. The scowl on your face. Those sexy as fuck groans you keep making. Need I go on?”

“No! Okay, I’m not happy! But I’m stuck in a bar on Christmas Eve with no way to get back to my resort and…”

I trail off, not bothering to explain about my father.

“I promise I can make it better,”

he says, leaning in my direction.

“How?”

His head lowers, and he whispers to me, “I can show you better than I can tell you, krasivyy.”

“I have no idea what that means,”

I whisper heavily as the air around us charges with intense sexual heat.

My pussy is aching, and my nipples are hard. I want everything he’s promising.

“Beautiful.”

I nod. “I can be beautiful.”

“Already are,”

he says as I lick my lips.

“You keep doing that thing with your lips, beautiful, and I’ll be forced to taste them,”

he says, reaching out and dragging a thumb across my bottom lip.

I’ve never been an obedient person. I lick my lips once more, my heated gaze on his.

Daniil growls and says, “You like tempting fate, don’t you?”

Quirking an eyebrow, I lick that damn bottom lip again. And as if that lick was the magic button, somehow my legs involuntarily part, inviting him closer as he smirks at me.

“I don’t tempt fate. It’s just been a shitty day…week. Hell, a shitty year,”

I say, thinking about my situation.

I find myself leaning up and pressing my lips against his when he steps in between my thighs. It’s like this man has me under a spell because what the fuck? Did I just put my lips on a stranger?

“I told you I can make it better,”

he says in a low rumble.

“You also said you can show me better than you can tell me,” I retort.

His hands drag slowly up my thighs, and I spread them wider. His lips lick mine, and I open my mouth as he slides his hand under my skirt, fingering the lacy edges of my panties.

“What are you doing?”

I moan, still spreading my legs.

“Making you happy,”

he grunts, sliding a finger into my wet pussy.

I think about what awaits me in Italy, and I think about my future. Why the hell shouldn’t I have fun one final time before my life ends?

Throwing caution to the wind, I press my lips against his again. This time when he opens his mouth, I suck at his tongue, scoot to the edge of my barstool, and pump against his hand.

His kiss is hot, demanding, and slow. I’ve never felt an attraction so intense or powerful, especially not one strong enough to allow a random, hot, sexy stranger to finger fuck me in a bar. Granted, there are no other customers, but still.

I cum on his fingers only seconds later, holding onto his shoulders with his tongue plundering my mouth.

“You know you didn’t help your case making that phone call,” I say.

“I just proved that I am who I say I am and nothing more. Now, do you wanna fuck?”

he asks, slipping his fingers into his mouth and sucking off my essence.

Damn! I’m in trouble.