Victory was mind-blowing. My hands still shook. My blood still boiled. Even my forehead remained misted with sweat. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could beat the high of a win.

I was a step closer to gaining control of WSquared, and my father wouldn’t know what hit him. If he wanted to bribe city officials and grease the palms of the zoning committee, he could dig his own grave. I wouldn’t be going down for his fucked-up mess.

Eden had been collateral damage, but I couldn’t let her have this. I had to clear my name. The Kaleidoscope had once been owned by my father, and he’d used it as a bribe. The proof was in the sealed ownership documents, which I could only obtain if I transferred the deed to my name. The shitstorm that would rain down upon our company because of deals like this could annihilate our family’s empire from the face of the planet.

People swarmed around me like flies to a bright light, buzzing and circling when all I wanted to do was find one of those electric fly swatters and zap them into oblivion. I tuned it all out. Waving everybody off, I turned around.

“Miss Black . . .”

I swallowed the sarcastic comment I’d been about to dish out. Eden had been sitting there a second ago, but now all I saw were the gold spindles on her chair. Dammit. She wouldn’t have left—it wasn’t like her. Or would she? God knows she’s got a temper. I scanned the table for her sparkly bag and her phone with the polka-dot print, but all I spotted was a place card with her name scribbled in fancy cursive.

Twisting in my seat, I caught a glimpse of her black skirt swishing past the ballroom doors. I frowned as her face flashed through my mind. Not wearing the fun, sizzling expression she’d challenged me with all night, but the one right after my father announced I’d won the auction. Her jaw had dropped, and those gorgeous red lips had parted in astonishment while her blue eyes had stared vacantly at the stage.

Suddenly, it felt like the building I won was crushing me. I loosened my tie and rubbed my chest in an attempt to ease the burning tension. The rush of adrenaline from winning dwindled faster than a plummeting stock in a recession.

Running away wasn’t like her. Eden was a force to be reckoned with, a cobra in a den of garden snakes. Dammit.

Winning should have felt euphoric, the reward for fighting hard, but now I wasn’t so sure. Why did I feel guilty about this? I had won the bid fair and square; I played by all the rules. Eden had pushed back, hard, not giving an inch under pressure. This was typical for us.

So why the fuck did she run off? I mean, I assumed this was important to her but—No. Stop this shit right now. Did you lose your balls tonight? She fucked you over, remember?

Only then did I realize I was still gaping at the doorway through which she’d disappeared. Did I expect her to come back?

Straightening my tie, I reached across the table and took Tommy’s drink, gulping a mouthful of scotch. The smooth malt liquid chilled my insides as it slid down my throat. The lump that had been caught there dropped into my stomach with a loud thud.

The truth slapped me in the face: I didn’t know Eden the way I used to. Maybe I never knew her at all.

I headed for the lobby to search for her. When I heard the subtle drumming of stilettos, and my head spun around so fast I was positive my neck cracked. There she was, eyes cast down as she rummaged through her clutch.

Even with a worried scowl, Eden embodied perfection. The way her brow furrowed when she bit her top lip drove me mad. The way she swayed was sexy as hell. Then there was the subtle roll of the hips. Christ! My dick twitched. I’d been stupid around her since we’d met.

She was getting ready to leave. A plethora of phrases inundated my mind.

Sorry I outbid you.

No.

You almost had me there.

I couldn’t say that.

The clasp on her bag snapped shut, the echo resounding through the lobby. Her gaze slowly traveled up, higher, higher, and then Eden’s eyes met mine. My breath caught, and my pulse accelerated tenfold.

It was like a switch flipped when she noticed me. A contemptuous swiftness entered her stride as she set her sights on her target: me. It was hot as fuck, and I could no longer breathe normally.

Don’t let her see you sweat.

She was only five tiles away now, and I began to sense that familiar current of magnetism. Eden did things to me, things I wished she didn’t. It was hard enough hating her from a distance. Admiring her up close equaled CIA-level torture. It hurt worse than staring directly into the sun without the ability to look away.

I shot her a smile, not sure what else to do. She bit down on her bottom lip. The plump shape turned a shade of scarlet I’d never been able to erase from my memory.

My brain ventured to our earlier encounter. Her pressed up against the wall, my mouth on her skin. It took everything inside me to hold back. Instead, I slid my hands into my pockets, forming fists where I hoped she couldn’t see them.

“Miss Black.” I straightened my shoulders.

She tugged her earlobe, twirling the earring that dangling there. “Winthrop.” The ease from a moment ago had disappeared. “I guess congratulations are in order.”

“Where did you get that kind of money?” I blurted unintentionally.

Folding her arms over her chest, she rolled her eyes. “We’re all entitled to our secrets, aren’t we?”

Her eye rolls always triggered a need for her. “Don’t worry,” I snapped. “I’m sure there’s a nice purse you can spend your spare change on.”

What the fuck is going on with you? Why would you say that?

A winter storm was brewing in Eden’s glare, and I cursed myself for being such an ass. What was it about her that made me so impulsive?

“How do you know I didn’t just up your bid for shits and giggles? Maybe I wanted to watch you squirm, then let you spend your daddy’s money.” Eden cocked her brow, shooting me a half smirk. I had to give it to her; she knew how to pick herself up without flinching.

“I know when I’ve outmaneuvered someone.” I chuckled, cocking a brow back. “You’ll have to practice a little harder to play in the big leagues, sweetheart.”

Dammit. Why the fuck can’t I shut the hell up?

Eden flipped me off while sauntering away.

“I’m sorry. Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

Why? Why the fuck couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? Take the high road? Be the bigger man? She messed with my head. She hadn’t succeeded in placing the winning bid on the building, but she had succeeded in breaking my cool. Tonight’s scoreboard read 1-1.

A husky voice was serenading the ballroom when I returned. It reminded me of Louis Armstrong, whose raspy voice and pain-filled lyrics could heal any aching soul.

I made my way back to the table through the maze of people. The dance floor was jam-packed, couples swaying, nuzzled in each other’s arms. God, what I wouldn’t give to hold Eden. Wait . . . what? No! I spotted Charles dancing with Khloe in a far corner.

I took a seat, picked up the fresh glass of whiskey the server left, and threw back a large gulp. When I placed my tumbler back down, the evening’s emcee tapped the microphone. “Last call, ladies and gentlemen.”

Tommy sat across from me, fingers tapping away at his phone. I couldn’t bring myself to give him the answers he wanted. My skin crawled, my stomach churned, and yet, somehow, I couldn’t care less about my family drama.

Eden.

Eden.

Miss Black.

Her face before she scoffed off . . . Like a 1920s silent movie, the memory of her leaving played in slow motion, over and over, infinitely repeating. She was pissed—the understatement of the evening—but I’d never get over how provocative she could be in her resentment. I craved her more than life itself. Somehow it didn’t matter how long ago our relationship had been or how we could never tell anyone about us because of our jobs. One fact would never change: I wanted her but couldn’t have her.

I had to get the fuck out of here. Now. When I finally made it through the revolving doors, the smell of wet, soggy pavement slapped me in the face. The valet attendant’s unflattering poncho signaled the rain hadn’t eased up. I reached inside my suit pocket, pulled out the ticket for my car, and handed it to the gentleman.

Thirty minutes later, my phone pinged while I was on I94. Donna’s name flashed across the screen in red for the second time. Shit.

I clicked the speaker in the car to hear my assistant’s voicemail.

“Mr. Winthrop, a Mr. Sal Thompson called the office this evening several times. He said it was urgent and needed to speak with you immediately, no matter the time. I’ve sent you an email with all the information. Have a good night.”

Pulling into the driveway of my Lake Forest home, I scanned the clock on the dash. Midnight. After punching in the numbers at the call box to lift the gate, I parked, turned the engine off, and threw my head against the cushion while silently wishing I could knock myself out until morning.

I knew Sal from Delbarton Prep, our private high school. He was a year ahead of me, but we both rowed, so I met him on the first day of tryouts. What the hell did he want so urgently? I pulled the phone from my breast pocket as I entered through the side door. Kicking off my shoes, I dialed the number Donna had sent in her detailed email.

“Well, well, well. Look who it is.” Sal’s voice was garish and coarse. If I hadn’t known him, it would cause me to imagine a large mountain man with a full beard, a rifle in one hand, and a beer in the other. In reality, Sal was a lean rich boy, blond and clean-shaven.

“If it isn’t Sal. How’ve you been?”

“Good. Yourself? What’s goin’ on? My assistant mentioned you called a few times.”

“I’m about to close on a development deal with Pryce & Leigh, actually.”

“And why didn’t you come to me first?” I asked. “You know, it’s funny, we’ve never worked together.”

“Not really sure why we haven’t. But a friend suggested P & L, and I didn’t think of calling you until yesterday.”

I grinned into the phone. “Well, let me get in on the bid then.”

“Exactly why I called.”

“Great. Send me the info and I’ll work up an offer for you, which I know you’ll not likely refuse.”

He chuckled. “Perfect. Let’s meet tomorrow around ten?”

“I’ll set it up,” I assured him. Clearing my throat, I asked, “Who’s pitching the bid over at P & L if you don’t mind me asking?”

I could practically hear his smile through the other end of the line as he said smoothly, “A pretty little thing. Her name is Eden Black.”

Fuck!