I reread the headline for the umpteenth time: Billionaire Purchases Mansion in Malibu.

My hands trembled as I stared at the picture in the newspaper clipping. He’d grown a beard and his hair was shorter on the sides, but I’d recognize Foster Cruise anywhere. Eyes hidden behind dark glasses, hands in his pockets, he still looked like the self-assured cocky bastard I’d witnessed in the courtroom five years ago.

Reading the short article again, a small smile twisted my lips. California. I’d always wanted to go there, and now I would.

My gaze went back to the picture as if drawn by some invisible magnetic force. I could deny it all I wanted; it wouldn’t matter—I was obsessed with Foster Cruise.

The beard suited him. Although it hid the dimple in his left cheek, it accentuated his strong, elegant Romanesque nose and dark thick eyebrows. Pity I couldn’t see his steel blue eyes in the picture, but I knew they were bright and intelligent, almost laser sharp in their focus.

I hated admitting that he was hot, and although I wasn’t normally a fan of facial hair, this man could melt the panties off a nun. He had a mysterious air about him, and he looked mighty fine in the tailored navy suit and crisp white shirt that appeared to be his signature trademark.

It didn’t fool me. Looks were deceiving. Simple and elegant yet expensive clothing couldn’t hide that the man was a self-centered hedonist. Yeah, there wasn’t much I didn’t know about Foster Cruise. I’d followed the trial and scoured the internet and newspapers for anything I could find on him since he’d been sent to prison.

Back then, during one of the longest trials in New York’s history, he hadn’t spared me a second glance, and why would he? I’d just turned nineteen. I still hadn’t fully grown into my body, and I kept my mousy brown bangs long to cover my face so I could hide from the world.

Yet I couldn’t help wishing he’d grace me just once with his dazzling smile that he so easily gave out to the pretty blonde lawyer. I grimaced as heat settled between my legs. I didn’t like the reaction my body had to him then, and I didn’t like the way he affected me now.

He’s a monster—a liar and a thief. Don’t ever forget that.

I’d been waiting for this day. Waiting for Mr. Dream Breaker to get out of jail. Waiting to get to the bottom of what really happened to the billions of dollars he’d fleeced off innocent investors so he could live like a fucking rock star.

Oh, how sweet this day is. Better than Christmas and all my birthdays rolled into one.

Operation Seduce a Billionaire was about to take off.

The sun’s warm rays reached into the small space I called home, reflecting off the stark white kitchen walls and making a pattern on the wooden floor. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and kick my plan into action.

I placed the clipping with the others in the file I’d kept on the white-collar criminals who ruined my family and countless others, and then wiped my clammy palms on my denim skirt.

This time, Foster Cruise will pay for his sins. He was going to wish he were back in jail by the time I finished with him, and there’d be no get out of jail early card for good behavior.

He’d be locked up and left to rot in hell for what he did. Let those sparkling white teeth turn yellow with age and neglect. I snorted in an unladylike fashion at the image that flitted through my mind.

Because of unscrupulous assholes like Foster and Arnie Hirsh, I’d given up a lot of things I previously had taken for granted. At least the one good thing that I learned was that material possessions weren’t what made a person happy.

It would all be worth it when I wiped that cocky smile off the face of the man I detested with every fiber in my being. Oh, I was going to make him pay, all right. Even though I wasn’t exactly sure how, I’d track him down and find a way to infiltrate his life, then work on getting him to spill his guts to me.

I fired up my laptop and found the internet site with last minute flights. There were only two seats left in coach from New York to LA, and although they were more expensive than I bargained for, I closed my eyes and hit the buy button on a one-way ticket to my destiny.

* * *

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay while I’m in LA?” I asked Gramps as I rested my cheek against his chest and he hugged me tightly.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m going to miss our visits and the cookies you bring me, but we can talk on the phone.”

“Promise you’ll call if you need me and I’ll be right back,” I said in a shaky voice. I hated the idea of being on the other side of the continent, but Gramps was too frail to travel with me. I’d told him about my plan to confront Foster and although he wasn’t happy to see me go, he understood that I had no other choice.

“Look after yourself, Addy,” Gramps said as he pressed his lips to my forehead. “Stay safe.”

I laughed as I pulled away and picked up my purse to leave. “Isn’t that what I should be telling you? You know I’m going to be worried that you’re okay while I’m gone.”

Gramps folded his arms across his chest. “You don’t have to worry. Mrs. Williams comes around to check on me regularly. I’m strong as a bull, she said.”

“That’s true.” I chuckled. Mrs. Williams had recently become widowed and she and Gramps seemed to enjoy one another’s company. It was good to know the old man wouldn’t be completely alone while I was away. “I’ll call you as often as I can.”

“That’s my girl.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at me. “I’m proud of you for caring so much about other people. Many young ladies your age would only be concerned about themselves and their own lives. You have a good heart, Addy.”

I beamed. “That’s because of how you raised me. You told me that’s its noble to help people in need, so I figured that’s what I’d do.” I wrinkled my nose. “And I’ve been waiting a long time for this. I can’t wait to get more information from the man himself.”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt or in any trouble.”

I pulled my shoulders back and straightened up. “Of course. You have nothing to worry about. I can take care of myself.”

Gramps chuckled as he accompanied me to the front door where the taxi was waiting.

“Bye, Gramps. I love you,” I said as I reached up on my toes and planted a last kiss on his cheek.

“Bye, Addy. Let me know when you arrive so I know your plane ride was okay.”

I rolled my eyes. I was twenty-four and definitely not a kid any more, but I knew Gramps would be restless because since 9/11, he didn’t trust flying any more.

“I’ll text you as soon as I arrive,” I promised as I waved good-bye.

* * *

I arrived at the airport just in time to make the gate before it closed. Packing up my life into two large suitcases wasn’t the easiest thing I’d ever done. I’d lived frugally since I moved into my own apartment, saving my money so I’d be able to support myself for a while if necessary, but it was still surprising how much crap I’d collected over the years.

Luckily, I’d taken a few motion sickness tablets in the taxi, because not long after takeoff, we hit a storm, and by the third bit of turbulence, nausea pushed up into my throat.

The young mother with the screaming baby seated beside me gave me an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry. My baby has the flu and she’s running a fever. I think her ears are blocked too. I’ve tried everything to settle her, but she won’t stop crying.” How could I be mad with either one of them after that?

Mustering a smile, I said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I hope she feels better soon.”

The woman’s expression wasn’t very reassuring. Great.

To fill the awkward silence, I asked, “How old is she?”

“She’ll be eight months old tomorrow.”

“What’s her name?”

“Clarissa.” The woman smiled.

Before I could comment, the baby threw her head backward and spewed a stream of liquid all over her mother, and to my utter horror, some warm, foul-smelling blotches hit my arm and clothing too.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” The woman wiped the white curdle from my clothes, but all she did was rub it in. On top of everything, the seatbelt sign was still on and the captain was telling everyone to stay seated. I was just about to disobey his orders, when the plane did a huge dip, causing sweat to break out on my skin and my stomach to churn.

“It’s okay,” I mumbled, lying as I fumbled for the paper bag in the seat pocket in front of mine. Leftover pizza for breakfast was always a bad idea.

I wiped my face with the damp towel the flight attendant had handed out earlier then plugged in the headphones the airline supplied and tried to watch a movie. Crackling and hardly audible, I swapped my crappy headphones for new ones from my neighbor’s seat, only to find they were the same poor quality.

It’s going to be a very, very long flight. What I wouldn’t give to be in first class, being served expensive sparkling wine and with space to stretch my long legs. Plus, I’d only heard urban myths about the Mile-High Club—I wanted to find out for myself if it was true. Maybe one day I’d be lucky enough to check that off my bucket list.

Not having had much sleep the night before, I closed my eyes and tried to get some shuteye. But between darling little Clarissa’s crying, the turbulence, and my restlessness, it was impossible, and I wanted to kiss the captain’s feet when he announced we were about to land. The smart linen blouse I’d worn in the hopes of being upgraded to business class was rumpled, and I could still smell the sourness of the milk the baby had thrown up onto my arm and clothes.

Instead of looking cool and elegant, I was a hot mess. But then I reminded myself why I was doing this and that it was a small hiccup in the big scheme of things. But fuck it, I was definitely flying at least business class when my mission was completed and I went back home to New York.

* * *

You could have knocked me over with a feather. Standing at the carousel, waiting for his luggage, was none other than Foster Cruise. What? Had he and I been on the same flight?

My gaze dragged up and down his body. He looked refreshed and impeccable. More damn handsome than I cared to admit. Of course the bastard had flown in the luxurious front section of the plane. Fuck my life.

I stared at him, my jaw hanging slightly open. He’d just saved me from using my mad research skills to find out exactly where in Malibu he was staying. Maybe for once in my life things would go my way after all. If I was quick and smart enough, I could follow him and bam, I’d have the first part of my plan sorted.

Our eyes locked for a brief few seconds and heat rose to my cheeks. But then he looked right through me and grinned at the pretty blonde behind me. His megawatt smile took my breath away, just like it had before, and suddenly, I was nineteen again. Vulnerable and insecure.

But wait.

“Use your superpowers.” I heard Gramps’ voice in my head as if he were standing beside me. I pushed my chin out and straightened my back. Before long, Foster Cruise would know me, intimately, and he’d be paying attention, all right.

I smirked. Clearly, I wasn’t his type, but that was easy to fix with a bottle of peroxide. I’d have to be a bit more ingenious though to have the kind of cleavage blondie was showing off. Bitch.

Before I could become too complacent with my genius plan of following Mr. Cruise, he leaned forward and scooped a Louis Vuitton trunk off the conveyor belt, turned on his heels, and walked away, pushing his luggage cart with one hand.

Panic flooded my insides as I realized he was coming in my direction. I pulled at my shirt, but really there wasn’t much I could do to straighten it. As he came closer to where I stood, my heart beat louder in my ears. Would he recognize me? Of course not. He probably wasn’t even aware of my existence.

I watched with wide eyes as he turned up the charm factor and winked at the blonde, who now had encroached on my personal space while she openly flirted with him. As he reached her, he graced her with a wickedly self-assured grin and nearly knocked me over in the process.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice like warm honey.

He kept walking, passing by me without as much as a sideward glance, his nose wrinkled and a frown between his brows.

Must be the baby puke he smells. But still, once an asshole, always an asshole.

I didn’t need Gramps to teach me that.

* * *

In a panic about what to do with my luggage that still hadn’t shown up, I made a split decision. It would be much easier to come back later for my bags than to lose track of Foster. I mean, when the heavens gave a girl a gift, the only logical thing to do was to break all the rules and hold onto that with both hands.

I grabbed my hand luggage off the cart I’d already spent six bucks on and followed just far enough so that he wouldn’t notice me, or more to the point, smell me. Once I knew where he lived, I’d collect my abandoned luggage, check into a hotel, and get a makeover. If I was going to succeed with my plan, I had to go all out to catch a man like Foster.

I still remembered how he’d reacted to the blonde lawyer in court and he’d just confirmed his preference for light hair with that woman. Luckily, I’d made a few inquiries after I’d booked my flight, and I had an appointment with Jean-Pierre to turn my light brown hair into beach-blonde waves. Then a little shopping, including a stop at Victoria’s Secret for a push up bra and other sexy underwear. The kind of stuff I’d denied myself for far too long, but I could now justify as work clothes.

Foster walked through the sliding doors with long strides toward a waiting limo. Dammit. I had to hail a cab as soon as possible, or run the risk of watching him disappear. I nearly cried when I saw the line at the taxi stand. No way in hell was I going to be able to grab a ride in time.