It’s been some shitty day.

After picking my brother and his family up at JFK, all the while getting lectured for using the limo instead of some more economical mode of transportation, we’d gone straight to my father’s brownstone on the Upper East Side, where he’s in hospice. My father welcomed Dan with open arms, and then not-so-politely told me to get lost while they “discussed important business.”

My father. He always knows how to make me feel like second-class shit.

It was too obvious to listen at the door, what with Ella, my sister-in-law, nearby. Besides, the doors in my father’s house are solid mahogany. Since it was the family’s first time in New York, I took Ella and her children, Matthew, who is six, and Bailey, four, on a tour of Central Park. Adorable, as far as kids go, and I like children, but I had other things on my mind. While I tried to be charming, all I could do was think that Dan and my father were plotting behind my back, and every second I stayed away meant my company slipping further and further through my fingers.

After buying the kids ice cream cones and while watching them frolic at a fountain, I checked to make sure the stylist had purchased every item of clothing I required of her, and that Chic had given my fiancé the full treatment. I made sure the wire transfer was set, the delivery was scheduled, and sent a message to Lily that I needed her.

This was an emergency.

“How is everything?” I asked Dan when he stepped out of my father’s bedroom, a frown on his face.

I couldn’t help thinking that frown was just a mask, hiding the smug smile he wanted to sport, knowing he was ripping the rug right out from under my feet. We’d always been so competitive, in everything. Even though he is the behind-the-scenes numbers geek and I am more of the center-stage, social one, we clashed in rugby, in swimming, in fencing . . . hell, just about every sport we played. He’s a year behind me, so the only thing we clashed more with was girls. When I finished chewing them up and spitting them out, he was always there with a sympathetic ear, ready to clean up what I’d left behind.

“I suppose it’s as good as can be expected,” he says, doing a very good job of appearing stricken. “He’s changed so much.”

“Well, when was the last time you were back here?” I say with a shrug. “It’s got to be over a year.”

He nods. “Two. The company, the kids . . . time gets away from you.” We walk together toward the foyer. My father’s brownstone is one of the oldest in the Upper East Side historic district, and the most expensive. It’s dark, dreary, and forever set in the past, with mahogany paneling everywhere. “I meant to bring Ella and the kids to meet him earlier. It’s just a shame they have to meet him under these circumstances.”

“Yes. Well. We’re glad to have you here,” I say quickly. “Speaking of, I made a reservation for drinks tonight, if that’s all right?”

His brow knits. I know what he’s thinking. Three hours with big brother? Torture. Even when we lived in the same house, we stayed clear of one another, because frankly, we couldn’t stand each other’s company. “Well, we’re tired from the flight. And we really came to be with dad. I don’t think— “

“First of all,” I say, clapping him on the back. “Dad’ll be asleep by then. Secondly, you want to show Ella a little of the city, don’t you?”

“Yes, but the kids—“

“Marcy can mind their bedtime. She’s raised ten of her own children,” I say, speaking about my father’s maid. He still looks like he’s trying to get out of it, so I decide to pull out the big guns. “Plus I really would like your opinion on something.”

He stops walking and stares at me. I rarely ask Dan’s help in anything. “What?”

“Well, I’d like you to meet someone,” I say, very business-like. “It’s important. For the future.”

“For the future?” he repeats, studying me. I know what he thinks. He thinks it’s for the business. After all, I don’t do anything unless it’s for the business.

He has no idea what he’s in for.

“I want to know what you think. Obviously, as my brother, your opinion means a lot.”

He suddenly freezes. Now he’s suspicious. I’ve never asked his opinion on anything, since we’ve always had opposite ones. In fact, when I choose something, it usually helps to think what Dan would like, and then pick the other choice. He goes practical, I go elegant. He goes subdued, I go wild.

As Ella helps the kids get settled in their bedrooms on the third floor, we sit in my father’s parlor, in stiff, wingback chairs, surrounded by all of his priceless works of art. Marcy brings us tea. “Father probably spoke to you about your intentions for Winchester Properties?” I ask, fishing.

He nods, but says nothing. He is a smart guy, a Stanford MBA, after all. It’s clear he’s not going to let anything leak that easily. I get the feeling the only way I’ll find out what happened during that meeting is once my father’s dead and my brother is moving into the cushy penthouse office that I’m currently occupying.

I go on. “I know we haven’t always been close. But Winchester Properties is near and dear to my heart. If you’re going to have any significant input into the company, you need to be a part of our life on the East Coast.”

He nods.

“You plan to, right?”

He nods again. “I’m in the process of selling Winchester Ergonomics and relocating the family back here, yes.”

Shit. That’s just what I didn’t want to hear.

“That’s fantastic. Really, it is,” I say, swallowing the bile in my throat. “Great to have family nearby. And you know I love your kids. It’ll give me a chance to get to know them better.”

He’s looking at me, astonished, and I can tell he’s wondering if I turned over a new leaf. When he moved out to California for school, I’d told him not to let the door hit him in the ass. And no, I’ve never once felt bad about the fact that he’s 3,000 miles away, or yearned for big family dinners, a shoulder to lean on, or anything like that.

I savored those 3,000 miles.

It was 3,000 miles that separated me from seeing his roll of the eyes as I went through women like I went through dress shirts. Or spent a thousand dollars on dinner for just myself. Or decided to charter a jet to fly to Vegas for the weekend. Or found myself making headlines yet again in the society pages because of my love for women, booze, and a raucous party.

He says, carefully, as if he isn’t sure whether to trust me just yet, “I’d really like your help, since you know the city best, about the best places to live in the area.”

“Of course.” As a top executive at the city’s largest real estate development firm, I know all the best places to raise his perfect little family. The irony is, my father wants Dan to head this company, and he wouldn’t know Tribeca from Hamilton Hill. I could set him up in a slum, and he wouldn’t be the wiser.

He leans forward. “Who is it you want me to meet?”

I hold up a hand. “I shouldn’t say any more. But it would really mean a lot to me if you and Ella came out tonight.”

He nods. “Well. All right. I guess.”

So without much trouble, I get them dressed in their best outfits, and we head—in a cab this time, since Dan did a cost comparison and showed me that keeping our driver, Earl on for those four hours is nearly ten times the cost of the cab ride, and I decided to choose my battles— to the Velvet Lounge.

Ella is a very striking woman, and probably the best Dan can get. She’s a typical California blonde, tall, statuesque, and tanned. But she definitely has that hippie vibe going for her. She’s dressed in a flowing, flowered dress with sandals, which means she didn’t get the Manhattan memo that really the only acceptable colors in this city are black and white, or various shades thereof. Even the diamond ring on her finger is small and . . . like everything he does, modest. My brother hates flash.

Me? I relish it.

Which was why it was so difficult to find a woman who looks like wife material. Wives sit behind the scenes. They don’t show up and say, “Look at me!”

I think Ella and Dan are going to love Lily. She’s reserved. Sweet. And just their speed. She will be an angel in white, modest and dignified and city-chic, who will swoop in, and save my company.

We walk inside the mostly-empty lounge, since it is a Sunday night, and find a table in the corner, near the bar. Dan, boring stick-in-the-mud that he is, is droning on about some ergonomics assessment he’d done in So Cal, like I could give a shit. I deliberately take a seat facing the doors, so I can see Lily when she walks in. I had my stylist pick out clothing and hair for her that would make her look modern, but classic, and hope it will make Ella green with envy. And Dan? He thinks he’s cornered the market on the respectable, stable family man. I’m going to shatter that notion once and for all.

And then she walks in.

I’d wanted white, because I thought she would fit in, and it would give the impression of someone pure, above everyone else. The stylist had showed me pictures, and on the model, it had looked innocent. Sweet. And Lily was already those things, so I thought if would only make her look more virginal, and wife-like, and . . . stable.

Turns out, I was wrong about that dress.

You can’t miss her in that thing. It’s daring, clinging to her ample curves, but elegant. I’d only seen her from afar in the Suitor’s Club, but her tits . . . holy shit, where did she get tits like that? The top half of them are on full display. Her hair is down long, and lighter now, falling over her bare shoulders in loose waves. Her lips are painted cherry red, but the rest of her make-up is subdued, accenting her pale, porcelain skin. Now, though, she has an air of confidence—I have to believe it isn’t real, considering how nervous she’d been before. Every male head in the place swings in her direction as she enters, and she absorbs the attention, rather than deflecting it, a small, sinful smile playing on her face.

I can’t blame them for looking. Here is, without a doubt, the most alluring woman I’ve ever laid eyes upon.

I’d been eating the olive on my martini, and it almost pops right out of my mouth before I realize that I’m gaping.

I swallow it down and wave to her, and she walks toward me. She’s wearing heels that my stylist picked out, and she wears them well, as if they’re a part of her body, hips swaying from side to side in a sexy, mesmerizing way. When she nears me, I notice my mouth’s dropped open again and quickly remedy that.

“Hello,” I say in an uncharacteristically weak voice, almost forgetting the act I’m supposed to be playing.

“Darling,” she says, leaning over and giving me a peck on the cheek. She smells delicious, like apple-scented candy, and her lips, when they graze my cheek, are warm and soft. She looks over at my brother and his wife. “How do you do?”

A beat passes where I forget that this is the time for introductions. Dan and Ella stand there, agog. I can tell Dan likes what he sees because though he usually tries to play it cool, he wouldn’t be a man if he didn’t notice those milky tits, spilling out of her dress. He averts his eyes quickly to me. “Are you going to introduce us?”

“Yes. This is Lily. My fiancé,” I announce.

Dan nearly chokes on his dirty martini. “Your what?”

Lily leans over and shakes their hands. “Hi, there,” she says, and then adds, slowly, like she’s translating English. “Fiance. You know. We’re engaged. As of . . .” she looks at me. “When was it, Max?”

I swallow. I have no idea. I really should have planned this better.

“Fiance?” Ella asks, her eyes sweeping over Lily. The frown on her face is immediate, and her tone is condescending. “Where is your engagement ring, dear?”

Shit. I’d forgotten that. How could I have forgotten that? I open my mouth, trying to think of some good excuse, when Lily answers, “Max got me the wrong size, would you believe it? He must think I have man fingers. It’s at the jeweler, being resized.”

I clear my throat.

She looks at me and smiles, then takes my hand and pats it. “I suppose it’s a good thing you’ve never bought a ring for a woman before. I might be jealous.”

“You’re the first.” I take a swig of my beer, the tension in my back loosening, even though I’m beyond astonished.

I’d worried she was too good and innocent to pull off deception.

But this woman is a master.

And not only that, my cock has been in a semi-hard state since she’s walked in. I’ve never had that reaction, just by looking at a woman.

I want her.

And I’m going to have her. Tonight. Fake fiancé, or not.

I’m going to take her back to my place, peel that dress off of her, and fuck her on the center of my king bed. I’ll have her screaming my name over and over again.

That’s the new plan.

I’m just getting ready to order another martini and something for the lady, to loosen her inhibitions and make her mine, when suddenly it hits me.

This woman. This gorgeous, confident woman, who can have any man in this place, maybe even Dan included . . . is a virgin.

I snap my eyes back to her. She’s beyond exquisite, those full hips, those tits . . . it’s not possible to think they’ve been untouched.

It has to be a lie.

I come back to reality when Dan snaps his fingers in my face. “Hello?”

I look at Lily, who’s studying me with that sinful smile. She’s sitting on the sofa beside me, and damned if that dress isn’t hiked up to show bare, milky legs that go on for miles. I can just imagine parting them and . . .

Shit. I really need to get it together. “Yeah?”

“I was just going to get another round,” Dan says. “Another martini?”

“Oh. Yeah,” I say. “Thanks.”

Then I look over at Lily, who is sitting up ramrod, straight in the overstuffed sofa, legs crossed, chatting innocently about the weather with Ella. I have the instinctual urge to be possessive, to touch her. I place a hand around the small of her back, just over that full ass of hers, and lean in closer.

She smiles up at me, then says to Ella, “Forgive me, but Max is always so focused on business. He didn’t tell me anything. Are you from around here?”

Ella’s face pinches. “No. California. But we just moved out here to be with Dan’s father in his final days.”

Lily nods solemnly, and I have a hard time believing she’s never met my father in her life. Either she feels things that deeply, or she’s just a masterful actress. I’ve known too many women that have been the latter to actually believe that she’s the former, a sweet, innocent virgin who really does care about a man she’s never met, a hard-nosed, grouchy asshole whose family always came second to his business. But she’d done that at Norma’s too.

She’s a sensitive woman. And a virgin. She’s not going to let just anyone take her home and fuck her, especially someone she just met.

That might be even beyond my own formidable powers as a playboy.

Spirits sinking, I swallow half of the martini in one gulp when Dan brings it to me. He sets what looks like a coke on a napkin at Lily’s knees.

Shit. I can’t even hope to get her drunk and lose her inhibitions that way.

“Well,” Dan says, clearly still shell-shocked by the news. He raises his glass. “A toast to the happy couple.”

From his tone, he’s in anything but a celebratory mood.

Lily takes a demure sip from her glass and thanks him sincerely.

“So, what are you plans for the wedding?” Ella asks, in more a conversational way than really wanting to know.

Lily looks at me. “Probably a small, romantic ceremony.”

Dan raises an eyebrow. I can tell what he’s thinking. I’ve never done anything small.

And I’m not much for romance, either.

“With at least five-hundred of our friends,” I add quickly. I’ve never planned a wedding, but if I was going to do it, I’d do it right. Make it an event the city would talk about for the rest of the decade.

Lily draws the lower half of her cherry red lips behind her teeth. “Oh?”

I nod. “Right. We’d have to do the Plaza.” When they all look at me, astonished, I say, “You only get married once, right? You have to do it right.”

Lily nods. I get the feeling her dream wedding would be a lot different. She says, “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

“Well, that was what I wanted to ask you two about,” I go on, sipping my martini. “When is the best time for a wedding? I mean, I figure I should ask you guys, since you’ve been through it. We’re thinking this autumn?”

“This autumn?” Dan asks. “You might have trouble getting any place at this short notice. Especially the Plaza.”

“But money talks,” I say.

“Right.” Dan lifts his drink and smirks at Lily. “Don’t worry about my brother. He might not know how to do things right, but he surely knows how to do it as expensively as possible.”

I volley a smile over him. “At least I don’t pinch my pennies, brother, and never allow myself a moment of fun.”

“Oh, you’re good about finding fun,” he says, narrowing his eyes. I know exactly what fun he’s probably thinking of. The last time I’d seen him before he went to college, I’d been in bed with his girlfriend, and her twin sister.

But he doesn’t lower himself to say what he’s thinking. His eyes shift to Lily, and he sets his drink down. “I think it’s time we head back to see how dad is.”

Ella nods. It had gotten decidedly icier in the past few moments, so I suppose it’s best that we part ways. But the seeds have been planted. He knows I’m not just going to sit back and let him walk all over me.

Game on, brother.

I stand as Ella does and nod at her and my brother. Lily says goodbye, and they’re both gracious, but I can just imagine what they’re saying as they leave the lounge.

Then I look over at Lily. I’d wanted to be alone with her since I saw her.

But she gathers her purse, ready to leave.

Shit. “What’s your hurry?” I ask her, falling back against the backrest of the sofa and making myself comfortable as I finish my drink. “Stay.”

“Well, I—” She stops. She sets her purse down and draws her lower lip into her mouth again. “All right. For a little bit.”

And there she is. The Lily I met at brunch. The unsure, sweet virgin. It doesn’t make me want her less. No, in fact, seeing that tight, virginal body of hers spilling out of that dress, I only want her more. Her eyes dart to the ground, and she tugs on the hem of her dress.

I reach out and touch her hand, stopping her. I want to see more leg. More everything.

A blush falls on her cheeks, down her neck, all the way to those bare breasts. I imagine it’s over all of her. “Did I do all right?”

“Acceptable,” I say.

I won’t let on how well she did. I know it makes women want me all the more. But Lily isn’t like any of those other women. I have to remember that. “Why don’t you have another drink? Something stronger?”

She looks at her soda and shakes her head. “I don’t drink.”

Blast. How will I get her to loosen up? It strikes me that I’ve paid for her, that she accepted the bid and knew the deal going in. The deal was for her virginity. I should be able to claim it, if I want.

But that’s not enough for me. I need her to want it, too.

That’s the new plan. To get her to want it.

Somehow. Without the help of alcohol.

My hand is still on her thigh, playing with the fabric there. Her skin is so creamy, without blemish, and soft. I can only imagine the rest of it is just as silken.

But she’s stiff. And she has good reason. I’m one of those sleazes, as she referred to them, from the Suitors Club. I disgust her.

It’s a challenge.

But one I am very willing to accept.