I’ve dragged myself out of the penthouse and to a series of clubs with Christian, and with every passing moment I regret this decision even more.

Everything grates on my nerves, from the laughter around the table at the Purple Swan to the women dancing in the club we’re at now—I don’t remember the name of it. Christian has a standing reservation for a luxury booth here, which is why we came, but none of the women hold the slightest bit of appeal for me now.

The music booms from the oversized speakers near the turntables. I can’t escape it, so instead I order another drink.

The crowds come and go around the booth, kept a short distance away by velvet ropes. This club is about a hundred steps down from the Purple Swan, but even the Swan isn’t good enough for me tonight.

Where do I want to be instead?

In my penthouse with Cate.

I’d even settle for watching some horrible rom-com.

But what I’d really like to do is tear her clothing off her body and worship every inch of her skin like I’ll never get another chance, spread her legs wide and taste the sweetness there, lick it all up, lick and suck her until she gushes a new wave of wetness into my mouth, tug at her nipples with my teeth, turn her over on her hands and knees and drive my cock into her hot core…

One of the women Christian has collected throughout the evening breaks into my thoughts by shouting into my ear.

“What’s it take to impress a guy like you?”

“What do you mean?” I shout back, already disgusted by the aroma of alcohol on her breath, by the fact that she’s not Cate, by the fact that I brought this on myself.

“You’re way richer than Chris. That’s what the girls said.”

I shake my head. “We don’t need to—”

She barrels on. “So I want to know what it would take to impress you. You’ve probably got an entire building to yourself, and I’d keep you company if you wanted to head home.”

“No.”

I don’t remember her name. I can’t remember the first thing about her. I want nothing to do with this woman, who wants to be able to say she’s slept with me. If she’s lucky, she’ll make it onto the gossip sites like Victoria—Vivian?—did.

Without another word to her, I stand up and leave the booth, stepping around long legs and high heels and bodies that sway from drinking. I don’t even bring my drink with me. I don’t want it anymore.

I don’t want anything but Cate, and it’s killing me.

How much longer will it be before I can stand it? Or, better yet, forget it and move on?

Moving blindly toward the exit, I push people out of my way, my only mission to get through the crowd and outside.

Thirty feet from the door, the sidewalk is blessedly empty.

I text Peter to bring the car.

His response comes quickly. Five minutes.

A hand on my shoulder startles me. I whip my head around, wondering if it’s going to be some asshole shoving a camera in my face, but it’s Christian.

“What’s going on with you, man?” he says, looking half concerned and half irritated. “You made quite the scene, leaving like that. You’re lucky none of those photographers are here.”

I roll my eyes. “Those photographers were lucky that time at the Swan because your girl Vivian called them and gave them the address of the club.”

“That’s—” He only has the grace to look a little ashamed. “Seriously, is something up? It’s not like you to walk out on a perfectly good party without even saying goodbye.” His tone is light, but I think he does want to know. His playboy ways notwithstanding, Christian is a decent guy, and a good friend.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Spit it out. There are women waiting for me inside. Women, Jax.”

“You remember I told you I needed to forget someone? The woman from the magazine?”

“You couldn’t forget her, could you?”

“No.”

“How far are you in over your head, Jax?”

“Underwater.”

Christian purses his lips. “So what happened? Did you cut her loose?”

“No. I got her fired from her job.”

“Jax,” Christian says, starting to laugh. “What have I told you about fucking women in the office?”

I decide not to tell him about that part.

“I got her fired from her job.”

Christian’s mouth drops open. “What the—”

“It was killing her, man. She was going to lose it. The only thing is, I didn’t get a chance to tell her about the plan I had.” I run my fingers through my hair. “She got so angry at me that she dumped me, and then she had to run home for an emergency with her sister.”

“Jesus, Jax. And you haven’t gone to talk to her yet?”

“She left New York.”

“So?”

“So, she’s in a different state with her family.”

“And you have a private jet.”

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Now it’s Christian’s turn to roll his eyes. “People say stupid shit in the heat of the moment. Are you absolutely sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“That doesn’t sound a hundred percent to me.”

“What the hell do you expect me to do?”

Christian slaps me on the back like I’m his junior employee and he’s a sixty-year-old CEO. “Well, Jax, I tell you this as your best friend in the entire world: stop being such a controlling jackass and trying to take over her life. Also, if you miss her enough to interrupt parties over her, go see her. It’s never too late for love.”

“Shut your mouth. Never too late my ass.”

“Are you coming back in or not?” Having imparted his wisdom, Chris is already turning to head back into the club.

I brushed it off, but his words have started the gears turning in my head.

There’s only one way to find out if it’s too late, and I’m not going to try it empty-handed.

“You go. I have calls to make.”

“It’s 1:30 in the morning.”

“Go.”

Christian gives me a jaunty salute and heads for the door. I start dialing. I’m going to need my accountant and my lawyer, and I need them right now.

Because in the morning, I’m going to find Cate.

This is my only chance.