Connor leaves for work and I’m left by myself, with just my thoughts as company.

As the hours go by, I can’t stay away from all the online mayhem.

Social media is still going nuts with the news of Connor’s Disastrous Date, and as I continue to ignore the continual texts from my family and Robbie, I drown myself in all the comments and posts as if they’re oceans of slow poison. I finally hit a wall at noon and resign myself to watching scary movies on one of the huge TVs. Horror is actually a distraction, a relief.

Connor said I could stay with him if I wanted to, and as addicted as I am to him, I’m still here. But now, instead of wallowing in my pain and obsessing about being as good as any of his supermodels, a new desire has taken me over: I at least want to be the one Highest Bidder girl he remembers.

It’s a sad consolation prize, but something wounded in me is striking back at him for not giving a damn about me. Nonetheless, when he texts, I hop right on it.

Arriving within the half hour. I’ve already grabbed dinner at the office, so have something to eat yourself. You’ll need the energy.

I stare at the message. Is he acting as if this morning never happened and nothing has changed between us? It sure sounds like the cold, removed Connor Kenyon I’ve met before. Even so, my stomach tumbles, my belly quakes.

I can’t wait for him to get here.

I grab a bit of food but I’m too nervous to really have much. Instead, I spend the time getting ready for him. Finally, Connor arrives home, immediately fixing himself a drink as if he’s having a rough day.

“How did things go today at work?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

He shrugs, his gaze scanning my legs. I separate my thighs ever so slightly until his eyes go fiery, then I close them.

He takes another drink.

“Am I to take it that things went all right?” I ask.

“I have the best PR team in the country, but I came up with the cover story myself.” He toasts me. “Congratulations—you’re the wunderkind business student who sold me an idea to launch a valet service app that ties in with Kenyon Motors.”

“What?”

He drains most of his drink and lets the glass dangle from his fingers by his side. His dress shirt hangs open and his abs flex with each move, tugging at my lust for him.

“With a few stories that were fed by my PR people to friendly members of the press and planted on social media, we’ll be able to back up the tale. As far as your parents know, this is the real reason you were up here in New York—you just didn’t want to tell them in case your venture didn’t work out. You wanted to surprise them.”

“I—”

“The story is that you came up with the idea for the app, and Kenyon Motors is developing it. We went out to dinner to celebrate, and that’s the last time I’ll be in contact with you, as far as my family and associates know.”

Wow.

“This way,” he says, “you’ll also be able to explain that fifty-thousand dollars you’ll be receiving from Highest Bidder.”

It’s a great cover story, but it highlights one thing—Connor will never admit who I really am to anyone. He’s disavowing me. But what did I expect?

“My family still won’t believe this,” I say instead of revealing my hurt feelings.

“Why wouldn’t they? According to the school records that you submitted to Highest Bidder, you’re smart. You’re very creative, too. And you spent a whole week at a marketing class that obviously helped you sell this idea to me.”

I blush at his unexpected compliments as he goes on.

“By the next news cycle,” he says, “no one in this city will remember this even happened if we play our cards right.”

I survey him carefully, but I can’t exactly argue with this idea. Having my family see the pictures has already done its work, declared my independence, made them see me quite differently than before. This story ties everything up so neatly, like a bow on a box that’s already been closed up and is ready to be sent away.

Is that how he truly feels about me?

He takes another drink then casually lowers the glass to his side again. “Did you think about what I said about keeping a low profile?”

I nod.

He merely waits for me to give him a better answer.

“We don’t have much time left, Connor, so I decided to make the most of it. Been there, done that with the whole going-out-in-public scene. Does that relieve you?”

His slow exhale tells me it does, and it breaks my heart all over again.

“I just want to be with you,” I say honestly, “and staying low-profile means I won’t have to feel as attacked as I was today.”

“I’m going to make sure you don’t feel that way as long as you’re here with me. You know that.”

I nod once more.

With all that settled, it’s time to get back to him. Me. Us.

All I want now is for Connor to just walk over here and touch me, work me all night. Make me come harder than anyone ever could make me come for the rest of my life.

And where will that leave me? I think. But I already know. I’m going to want Connor Kenyon forever, I’ll be ruined for anyone else but him.