I held on to the railing and rushed up the short staircase, ducking my head so that I wouldn’t bump it when I stepped inside the private plane.

“Mr. Young,” the flight attendant said as I straightened, “it’s nice to have you back.”

“Morning.” I took a seat mid-plane, opening my computer and setting it on the table in front of me.

She stood in the aisle next to me. “Can I get you your usual to drink?”

“Please,” I replied, taking a grape off the fruit tray and popping it into my mouth as I watched my email load.

There was so much fucking work waiting for me back in Miami. I knew my team was on top of it. I knew they were as productive there as I had been in LA. But I also knew that, after tonight, I would be putting in some long hours at the office.

Scanning the subject line of each email, I read what was important and trashed all the bullshit. When I made it through about a quarter of the list, I opened a new email, addressed it to my support staff, and typed.

I met with Smith last night at the Chateau Marmont. He’s ready to sign. Have legal prepare the contract, using the numbers we discussed yesterday, and run it through Scarlett’s department, so they can get it into the billing system.

BMW is shopping for a new face for their print and commercial ad campaigns. Smith will be perfect for them. Put together a pitch and include his press materials. It’s a $15-million-dollar contract, and I want it awarded to The Agency, so have it done by the time I return.

Jack thinks he’s got this month in the bag. Let’s make sure he doesn’t.

“Here you go,” the flight attendant said as she set a Bloody Mary on the table. “Can I get you anything else?”

I shook my head and pulled out my phone. Since the office and half of my clients were on East Coast time, I had almost a hundred texts that had come through in the last thirty minutes.

There wasn’t one from James.

I hadn’t asked for her number. All it would take was a phone call to my office, and someone on my staff would get it for me.

I wouldn’t do that.

I’d overlooked her age for one night. That night was over, and I was a man of my word.

If we talked again, it would be on her.

The pilot called the phone that was next to my seat and said, “We’re scheduled to take off in four minutes, so we’re going to start taxiing toward the runway. We expect a few bumps as we pass over the southeast corner of New Mexico, but overall, it should be a fairly smooth ride.”

I thanked him and hung up. Pressing a button that lifted the leg rest, I reclined the top of my seat. Using the remote that was on the table, I flipped through the satellite stations until I found the news.

I swallowed the Bloody Mary in a few gulps and relaxed into my seat.

James’s face was the first thing I saw when I closed my eyes.

James Ryne.

America’s sweetheart.

And one hell of a fuck.

Someone who, after last night, had proven to be more sexually mature than a lot of the women I’d slept with. She never told me not to fuck her so hard, never begged me to slow down. And she’d rocked those hips just the way I liked to be ridden.

Eighteen was certainly the youngest I’d ever been with.

Jesus, I’d stooped pretty low this time.

But her pussy had felt so good and had tasted even better.

* * *

I finished the last of my scotch and set the tumbler on our table inside the VIP room of the bar. It wasn’t there for more than a few seconds before our waitress came over, grabbed the bottle from the center of our table, and refilled my glass. She then moved on to Jack’s glass and finally to Max’s.

“Can I get you gentlemen anything?” She adjusted the collar of her shirt, the V now showing the black lace of her bra. Last week, it had been pink.

I reached into my pocket, searching for the hundred I’d put in there earlier, and handed it to her. “Come back in twenty.”

She smiled as she pulled the bill out of my fingers, and I turned my attention to Jack as he said, “Look at that goddamn number.” He was holding his cell in the air, pointing at the bottom of an email. “Twelve million this month.”

I’d already seen the email on the plane this morning, so I knew Jack, who headed up the sports division of our company, had been listed as the top earner so far this month. As soon as Smith was signed to the acting division that I managed and BMW was locked in, my number would double his. Coming in last place was the music sector, which Max was in charge of, at four million.

All three departments made up The Agency, a company I’d opened five years ago with my three best friends, and it was now the largest entertainment agency in Florida.

“Jesus Christ,” I groaned. “I’m not listening to this shit again. We know how well you’re doing. Give it a fucking rest.”

“Why, Brett?” Jack asked. “Having a hard time with second place?” He leaned into the leather couch and crossed his arms behind his head. “When are you pussies going to bring me a real game? You’re making this shit too easy on me.”

“Ten thousand says I’m number one next month,” Max said.

“I’ll take that bet,” I said, loosening my tie.

The R&B singer Max would be signing next week was one of the top in the world. Her contract would be impressive but still not as large as Smith’s. And, when I added Smith and BMW to my forecast along with the renewal of the TV judge, Oscar winner, reality star, and the other deals the agents on my team were negotiating, it would be one of the acting departments largest months.

“Fuck that,” Jack said to Max. “I want your Vanquish, and then we’ll have a deal.”

The Aston Martin Vanquish was Max’s baby, and it was one sexy fucking baby. The car had more horsepower than all three of Jack’s cars combined.

“He went from ten grand to three hundred thousand,” Max said to me, laughing, and then he looked over at Jack. “Not going to happen, buddy. What else do you want? A bigger set of balls? I bet Brett would even chip in for that.”

Jack leaned forward and said to Max, “Hope’s personal cell number. That’s what I want.”

Hope was a country star and Max’s top producing client. Every time her name was mentioned, Jack made it no secret that he wanted to fuck her.

I didn’t blame the bastard. She was one of the hottest clients we represented.

“Done,” Max said.

“Oh, it’s so fucking on,” Jack gloated, now reclining even further back than before.

I held my glass in the air in a silent toast, knowing I had them both beat, and took a swig. When I set the tumbler down, I said, “Where’s Scarlett? She should be here by now.”

Scarlett was our CFO and fourth partner, and we’d all grown up together. Since small kids, living in rent-controlled apartments in Boston, we’d been talking about opening this company. So, we’d all gone to the same college and then to an agency in Los Angeles. Once we’d acquired a solid client base and Scarlett had learned how to run the financials, we’d relocated to Miami to start our own.

That was five years ago, and our success only continued to grow.

“Her text said she had a little more work to do and she’d be late,” Jack said.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out to check the screen. The number wasn’t stored in my phone, so no name appeared next to it, just a message that consisted of two words.

I smiled, looking up to see if the guys had noticed. They were talking to each other, so I typed my reply.

“Excuse me,” a woman said.

I glanced up and realized the woman was standing next to me. Within a second, two more joined her. They were all in short, tight dresses with plumped lips and tits the size of fucking cantaloupes.

“What can we do for you?” Jack asked.

“My friends and I have been watching you guys from across the bar,” the first woman said, glancing around the table until her eyes landed on me. “We’re visiting from Kentucky, and we’re looking for some”—her eyes lowered to my chest and to the zipper of my suit pants and slowly back up—“handsome gentlemen like yourselves to show us a good time.”

I wondered if girls from Kentucky liked to suck cock and which of the three would be better at it. I knew Max and Jack had the same thought in their minds.

None of us had a chance to respond because Scarlett walked up, glared at all three women, and said, “Beat it.”

The women’s eyes shifted over to me.

I laughed, and I heard my buddies do the same.

“She’s the boss,” I told the girls. “I’d do what she said.”

“Cockblock,” one of them snapped at Scarlett before she walked away.

Scarlett waited until they all disappeared, and then she took a seat next to me. We kissed each other on the cheek.

“I’m glad you’re back. These fools”—she nodded toward Jack and Max—“have been driving me crazy.”

“We’ve just been submitting so many contracts, her department can’t keep up,” Jack said.

“My department has no problem with keeping up. It’s your team that doesn’t fill out the paperwork correctly.”

The screen of my phone lit up with a text.

“Brett, I saw Smith’s contract before I left the office,” Scarlett whispered. Her quiet tone was because I’d texted her from the plane and told her to keep it a secret from the guys. “You had some tough competition. LA was determined not to lose him. New York has been scouting him for months. I’m damn proud of you.”

I smiled at her. “That one negotiated hard.”

“But you got what you wanted, and so did he.”

“Hey,” Max yelled. “What are you two whispering about?”

Scarlett turned toward him and said, “Brett was just telling me about the new curtains he’s buying for his living room.”

“What the hell?” Max snapped. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

I squeezed her shoulder as I laughed.

As I gazed up from my phone, I saw the owner of the bar walking over to us.

He stopped in between my couch and Jack’s and said, “Brett, Scarlett, Jack, Max, thanks for joining us tonight.”

“Always a pleasure,” Scarlett replied.

“How’s everything this evening?” he asked. “I hope your cocktail waitress, Natalie, is treating you all right?”

“No complaints,” I said.

“She’s doing a fine job,” Max said.

“Good to hear,” he said. “You know we’re happy to reserve a table for you any night of the week, so if there’s anything I can do, anything you need at all, don’t hesitate to reach out. You all have my personal cell number.”

I shook his hand, and then my eyes went to my phone.

A picture of James loaded onto my screen.

Fuck me.

It only showed her from the waist down, the small freckle on the inside of her thigh proving it was her. She had on the sexiest pair of lace panties, and her hand was reaching into the front of them.

She was touching herself.

“Texting anyone important?” Jack asked.

When I looked up, the three of them were staring at me. I turned my phone around, so the screen faced my lap and said, “Nah, just a client.”

“Now, he’s the one lying,” Max snapped.

“Scarlett, take his phone, and check out who he’s been texting,” Jack said.

“We all know Brett would never hand over his phone,” she said. “And, even though I think I’m a badass at the gym, there’s no way I’m strong enough to pry it from his fingers.” She smiled as she gazed at me. “Just fess up. Did you meet someone in LA?”

My eyes scanned all three of their faces. “Maybe.”

“I fucking knew it,” Jack said. “Who is she?”

“She’s nothing yet,” I replied.

“Not what I asked,” he came back with.

“I know what you fucking asked, Jack, and right now, that’s all you’re getting.”

“You’re so stubborn,” Scarlett said.

There were lots of comebacks I could make, but Scarlett didn’t deserve that. She was speaking the truth; I was fucking stubborn.

That didn’t mean I was going to say a word about James. As far as I was concerned, that conversation was locked.

I scrolled through my Calendar app and went back to the text conversation.

“Looks like you’re running a little low,” the waitress said, holding the empty bottle in her hand after only refilling Jack’s glass.

“We’ll have another bottle,” I told her.

“Shit,” Max groaned. “It’s going to be a long night.”