A little over four months ago . . .

My best friend had lost her mind.

A contract.

To stay on a reality dating show that she never wanted to be part of anyway.

For money.

I still couldn’t believe it.

Oh, the terms were straightforward: pretend to date “The Prince of New Orleans” and refuse his proposal during the last episode, and then he would fund her private marketing firm. An easy bargain, sure, except it required her to give up her job and livelihood for a man she hardly knew on the promise that he would follow through in the end.

Okay, so the agreement his attorney drafted was solid, but a billionaire like Evan Mershano could easily find a way out of it. And then my best friend would be left picking up the pieces of a broken life, while he walked away unscathed.

And what was worse, Sarah Summers’s involvement with said billionaire had introduced me to his overconfident, sexy-as-sin cousin, who refused to leave my apartment.

“You.” I pointed a finger at Will Mershano and narrowed my gaze. “Get off my bed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He planted his feet on the floor and stood to his six-foot-whatever height and flashed me an amused look. “I can’t say that’s ever happened to me before.”

“Happy to be your first.” I cringed. That was the second time tonight I had said that to him. The damn man had followed me home from the office after showing up unannounced with a Mershano-stamped legal contract. One Sarah had requested I personally review. As her best friend, and the only attorney she knew, I was the obvious choice. Much to my chagrin.

“Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, be leaving? There is a Mershano Suites a few blocks over.” And his cousin, the same one propositioning Sarah, owned it.

“There is, but it’s much easier to stay here.” He moved past me to the kitchen, where he started going through my wine collection.

“You’re not staying here.” If he found out, there’d be hell to pay, and I really didn’t need to give him a reason to bother me. Not now. Not ever.

Will pulled a bottle from my fridge and eyed the label. “Not a bad brand.” He found the corkscrew in a drawer and started opening it without permission.

“Did you not hear a word I just said?”

He opened a cabinet to pull out two wine glasses. How he found them on his first try was anybody’s guess, but it seemed to fit his personality perfectly. He expertly served the wine while I stared at him in shock.

Who is this man, and why is he in my personal space?

Oh, right. My best friend sent him to me.

I picked up my phone and started typing an angry message, when a generous pour of red wine appeared in my peripheral vision.

“Hint of apple. Nice,” Will murmured after a sip from his glass. “I prefer my personal reserve, but this will do for the evening.” He padded barefoot over to my couch and made himself at home.

“Are you hard of hearing?” I asked. Because that would be lovely. He needed some sort of flaw to detract from his thick blond hair, perfect jaw structure, high cheekbones, and muscular stature.

He kicked his feet up onto the cushion as he rotated to face me. “So what contract amendments does Sarah want you to make?”

I folded my arms. “Is that why you’re still here? Because I think your supervising my work all day was quite enough, don’t you?”

“I promised Evan I would oversee this entire exchange personally.” His chocolate gaze danced appreciatively over my blouse, pencil skirt, and stockings. “And I take my job very seriously.”

My tongue hurt from biting it so hard. Less than twelve hours of knowing this overconfident, sexy-as-sin billionaire, and I wanted to kill him. He ruined an otherwise perfect day by showing up unannounced, and then he followed me home like I couldn’t be trusted. “I already signed the nondisclosure agreement.”

He shrugged. “That means little to me. You could still violate it.”

“And risk my job in the process? No, thanks.” This might be a personal favor for a friend, but it could still hurt my career if I violated any of the terms Evan’s private legal team drafted. Garrett Wilkinson was not an attorney I wanted to piss off. “I don’t require a babysitter, Mister Mershano.”

He eyed me over the rim of his glass. “Oh, I’m well aware of what you require, Miss Dawson.”

I snagged the crystal stem from the counter and took a healthy sip of wine. It felt like heaven against my throat and helped calm some of my nerves. “You’re not going to leave, are you?”

“Not until we’re done,” he confirmed. “As I said, I take my job seriously.”

“I bet you do,” I muttered, rolling my eyes as I snuggled into the oversized chair beside the couch with my laptop and wine. If he was hell-bent on finishing this contract tonight, then I’d stay up as late as he wanted, so long as it meant he’d leave sooner.

“You know, Mershano Vineyards is in the market for a corporate attorney to help with some international acquisitions. It’d be a big job, I think, and would require overseeing a legal team.”

“That’s nice,” I replied as I pulled up the legal document Garrett sent over an hour ago to review the edits I requested earlier this afternoon.

“Someone with your skill set might be a good fit,” he continued.

“You’d need someone with a lot more experience than my four years, Mister Mershano.” My experience qualified me to join the team, maybe, but not lead it.

“I think that’s for me to decide,” he murmured. “And I think you’d be a good fit, darlin’. We should work together.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of me. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Ever.”

He cocked his head to the side and rubbed a thumb over his bottom lip as he considered me in a manner that sent a shiver down my spine. Oh, that look is trouble . . .

Challenge oozed from him, thickening the air around us. “Hmm, we’ll see, Miss Dawson, won’t we?”