At almost three in the morning, the party scene inside Senses, Christien’s flagship club in Miami, still showed no signs of slowing down. It was a considerable feat, especially when one took into account that the no-drugs policy – unlike in other clubs – was strictly enforced by management.

At the VIP section, most of the attention was trained on the private booth mounted on the center dais, solely occupied by a strikingly beautiful couple. The woman was Karolina Martin, the host of a rather famous lifestyle TV show, and Christien di Luca, the French-Greek billionaire who also happened to own the club – as well as dozens of other famous pleasure haunts scattered all over the globe.

“Come on, just one last drink, mon ange.” Karolina looped her arms around the billionaire’s neck to keep him from leaving. When their gazes met, she gave Christien a naughty smile – right before she started rubbing her breasts against his rock-hard chest.

“Unfortunately---” Christien gently disentangled himself from the actress’ hold. “I have an early flight to Connecticut, so I must regretfully decline.”

Karolina pouted. “One last, please?”

But the billionaire only shook his head. “Perhaps next time.”

The tone was still soft and charming, but the actress didn’t miss the firmness underlining the words. Knowing better than to argue, Karolina bowed gracefully to the billionaire’s decision and simply blew him a kiss, murmuring huskily, “À la prochaine, mon ange.”

She was rewarded with a sexy curve of the billionaire’s lips. A rare sight, she knew, but it was not enough. It was an open secret in their social circles that she was Christien di Luca’s on-and-off lover. Everyone knew she had lasted the longest among all the other women he had taken to his bed.

And it had to stay like that. No one should know that it had been almost half a year since the billionaire had last fucked her. And although he still paid her bills, and she still lived in his apartment---

Karolina’s hard eyes followed the billionaire as he walked away. He really did look like an angel, Karolina thought. Golden hair, sky-blue eyes, and bronze skin – Christien di Luca had all the best features his Mediterranean genes had to offer. But whereas his looks were of an angel, his reputation was the exact opposite.

With an extensive chain of the world’s most successful nightclubs and pleasure haunts under his belt, the young scion had gained infamy not only for his diabolical expertise in the corporate arena but also for the nature of his parties, which Christien regularly threw in every part of the world.

Whereas his close friend Reid Chalkias, the so-called Prince of Darkness, was notorious for the immorality of his exclusive gatherings, sin took on a more lavish form within the walls of Christien di Luca’s clubs. Pool parties where guests literally swam in champagne, winter fetes in which his nightclubs sported ice slides and Jacuzzis filled with molten chocolate – these celebrations were only for the finest and wealthiest, and even then having enough money in the bank didn’t guarantee an invitation.

But something had changed, Karolina thought uneasily. It used to be that he attended every VIP party he threw. But for the past six months, he had been conspicuously absent from the clubbing scene and was instead captured by the paparazzi spending most of his time cooped up in business meetings or hitting the gym.

“So? How was it?”

Karolina turned to face Melanie as her friend came up to her side. Like Karolina, Melanie was a celebrity, and the two had become friends the moment they realized they shared a common goal.

“Did you get him to commit to anything?” Melanie asked eagerly.

And that was the goal, of course: to land a rich husband, which Melanie had already done when she had married her sixty-year-old Italian billionaire.

But Karolina was more ambitious. She didn’t want just any billionaire. She wanted someone who was young and handsome, too, and that was where Christien di Luca entered the picture.

“There’s something different about Christien,” Karolina admitted grudgingly.

“Do you think he has another woman?” Melanie gasped.

The brunette shook her head. “I’d have known if he had. News like that travels fast. But…” She lifted her chin. “I’m not worried. I can wait. It’s all part of the game.”

And Karolina was nothing if not patient.

However galling it was to admit, Karolina knew exactly what kept the billionaire in her bed, and it had nothing to do with her looks, her fame, or even her skills in the bedroom.

Rather, it was all about her ability to draw the line without needing to be told.

She knew when to seduce him and when to back off. She knew when to make him laugh or provoke his anger. She knew all these because all her life, she had studied men like they were objects---

And at the end of the day, Christien di Luca was just that.

A man.

And men always had their shared weaknesses.

* * *

Why the hell had he come back?

Nightmare wasn’t the first club he had opened out of state, wasn’t even the costliest or the riskiest. He had already done everything to ensure that the club’s launch would be a success. There was no need for his presence at the opening.

And yet here he was.

As more people continued pouring inside the club, Christien’s gaze once again searched the crowd for a familiar blonde head. Even knowing that he was being stupid, that what he wanted was impossible –

A part of him was still waiting.

The realization filled him with disgust and he swung away with a silent curse. All of his clubs had VIP rooms, and the biggest among it was always reserved for his exclusive use. It was there the billionaire retreated, needing more than a moment to regain his composure.

His reflection on the mirrored panes of the wall caught his glance, and his lips twisted. He had lost a significant amount of weight in the past six months, and while he knew his relentless work schedule was partly the cause, Christien also knew it wasn’t just that.

She was the reason behind this.

No matter how hard he worked, no matter how many women he fucked, no matter what he did, the memories just didn’t stop haunting him, stalking him---

He couldn’t forget her horrible face. Her magical laugh. Her sweet little body.

The more time passed, the less he could remember why he needed to stay away. His hunger for her made him increasingly blind and desperate. He could no longer tell what was right from wrong, and hard-fought principles that used to mean everything to him no longer had any hold on his soul.

Was this love? Or was this Christien still grasping at straws, his instincts of self-preservation realizing that if he gave up on Kharis, he might as well give up living?

Lowering himself to one of the love couches, he pulled his phone out from his pocket---

A few clicks and swipes, and he found himself once again retrieving the dozens of messages that she had sent him.

The first message had arrived at his inbox a couple of days after his return to Miami. He hadn’t been surprised that she had managed to unearth who he was, but it had surprised him that she had bothered to write.

I’m so sorry for hiding the truth from you, Christien. But I don’t believe my age should change a thing. I love you. And I believe with all my heart that you love me, too.

For a few weeks, she had written him several times a day. Always apologizing, but also sharing with him snippets of her day, like a fucking diary---

We had an exam today. It was hard. You’d probably have aced it, though.

I tried my hand at baking. Gramps had the first bite of my cake, and he thought it was horrible.

Soon, it went to just a few days each week.

It’s still cold here, but I like it. I love the snow. Do you love snow?

And then nothing---

The thought made him inhale sharply, and even knowing that he shouldn’t expect anything, Christien still found himself refreshing his inbox, waiting for an incoming message from her---

But there was none.

And why should there be, considering how he hadn’t replied to a single message that she had sent in the past six months?

She would no longer write to him. She was done waiting for him. She had moved on.

The thought made him want to smash his fist against the wall, and he couldn’t remember the last time he was this furious.

But was it enough? Just because he had never been this angry before – was it reason enough to believe that he was in love with her?

The answer eluded him, like it always did, and with a muttered curse, Christien sprang back to his feet. It’s over, he told himself. You wanted this, so be happy with it.

Strolling out of the VIP room, he bent over the second-floor railing and gazed sightlessly at the crowd below him.

This was his world.

For better or worse, this was the world he had created for himself.

It used to be enough for him, its emptiness a familiar devil he had gotten used to. But now, the sheer absence of hope in it gnawed at him –

His world would never be right without her.

The truth of this struck him, and Christien began to run.