Graham is busy on his phone until the moment we pull up to the building. From outside, it looks like nothing, nowhere, even though I know what’s inside.

“Are you ready?”

I’m still buzzed from being fucked against the wall of his foyer, and from the hot water of the shower afterward, from Graham on his knees between my legs—all of it. I’m ready for anything.

“Is this going to be...different from before? We ate here, remember?”

He raises one eyebrow. “Yes, of course I remember. But we ate here alone that time.”

My heart beats faster. “We’re meeting other people?”

“Not if we never go in. Come on.”

Graham helps me out of the car, but instead of going up the main staircase, we go around to a dusky alleyway, where there’s a secondary door. Graham looks around in both directions before he punches in a code on a panel set into the wall. The door unlocks with a gentle click.

He offers his arm, and I take it. “This is all very sci-fi.”

“Extra security, in case of paparazzi.”

“Wouldn’t Jameson take care of that?” Graham’s Secret Service agents came behind us in a separate car and went into the Swan ahead of us.

“It’s not his job to cordon off every building I enter. He’s not on my brother’s detail.” Graham rolls his eyes. “We’re not eating in the small dining room tonight.”

“I’m not hungry. For anything but—”

Graham stops dead in the hall and kisses me, his tongue searching and possessive. “Me?”

“More of you. I’m hungry for more of you.”

“God damn, Bellamy. Should I get us a room?”

“This place is a hotel?”

“This is an all-inclusive membership club. Of course there are private rooms.” Graham’s eyes sparkle in the light from the sconces every few feet along the walls.

I want to take him up on it. The heat between my legs definitely wants me to take him up on it. But the mention of other people—friends?—is drawing me toward the low beat of the music at the other end of the hall. And honestly, if Graham gets me in one of those private rooms, I’m never coming out again. Not for interviews. Not for vacations. Nothing.

“Are people waiting for us?” I run my fingers under the fold of his collar and down to his tie.

He takes a breath. “Yes. But people cancel dates all the time.”

“You just organized this. Didn’t you? All the way here?”

He doesn’t bother to look sheepish. “Yes, and they’ll understand if—”

“Oh, my God, no. These are your friends. I’m betting you didn’t summon complete strangers to this club because I was having a bad day. We can’t stand them up.”

“I’d stand up the Pope for you.”

I laugh out loud. “No need.” My nerves spark with a trembling anxiety. Graham’s friends? This is real. These people will remember me. I won’t be able to erase myself from their minds if this all comes to a screeching halt.

I dismiss that thought and hold my head up high. A room full of the wealthiest people in New York City, and maybe even the world.

And me, Bellamy Leighton. Chaser of billionaires.

“One, two, three,” Graham says, and the double doors open in front of us, a uniformed staffer on either side.

It’s a massive dining room—absolutely massive. There are tiers, somehow, and a dance floor, and at one end, there is a DJ setup that’s so fantastic I can’t take it all in at once.

And the tables are full of people.

Laughing. Talking. Shouting over the music.

Everything is upscale, upper class, dripping with money, and I have a sudden moment of terror—did I change out of my jeans and sweater?

Yes. I put on this white gown, shot through with silver thread and sequins, and I fit in here.

Even if I don’t feel like it.

Graham doesn’t hesitate for an instant. He pushes through the tables, through all the chattering women in gowns that are explosions of color and men in dark tuxedoes, and goes straight for a table in the center.

The table is filled with angels.

People so beautiful that I pull on Graham’s arm. “Wait. Wait.”

We’re ten feet away. “What is it, sweetness?”

“These people—” I swallow the sudden fear that’s choking off my air supply. “They’ll know. They’ll know about me.”

He takes my chin in his hand and kisses me, right there in front of them all. There’s a whoop from the table, and then someone shouts, “It’s Blackpool! And he brought her with him!”

Graham pulls away and grins down at me. He makes eye contact with someone over my head and gives a cocky salute, then looks back into my eyes. “Belle, everybody knows about you. They can’t wait to meet you.”

Then a tuxedoed figure with dark hair and blue eyes that are sharp like the sea collides with us. “Blackpool, stop hoarding her all to yourself.”

“Shut your mouth, Hunter.”

Graham embraces the other man with a manly thump on the back, then pulls him around to face me. “This is Jax Hunter. Jax, this is my fiancée, Bellamy Leighton.”

He’s charming. He’s charming as hell. Jax Hunter is dark and handsome, with those flashing blue eyes, and he takes my hand like he’s a prince from another era. “I am so pleased to meet you,” he says. “The one woman on earth who could tame Graham Blackpool.”

My cheeks go hot. “I’m not sure I’ve done that.”

Jax claps Graham on the back. “You didn’t say she was modest.” He throws a glance back at me. “He did say you were stunning. Got that right.”

Graham clears his throat. “Jax is married.”

Jax puts a hand to his chest. “I am offended that you would insinuate that I was hitting on your fiancée when my wife is sitting at that table.”

Graham laughs. “Kidding. Only kidding. This guy is so in love with his wife that it’s disgusting.”

As if on cue, the woman who must be Jax’s wife turns from her place at the table. “Husband of mine,” she calls. “Bring those beautiful creatures over here. They look like they need a drink.”