I texted Ryan the excuse of having to work tonight, and he never replied. Experience told me that wasn’t a good sign, so I went straight to Mershano Suites instead of stopping by my apartment, which left me dressed in my skirt suit and carrying my laptop bag.

I planned to phone Will when I arrived, but it wasn’t needed. He stood at the bar just off the ornate lobby, chatting with three women in dresses that hugged every curve and displayed their long, shapely legs. Two brunettes and a blonde. It sounded like the beginning of a bad joke, which he apparently found amusing, because I could hear his warm chuckle from the hotel entrance. Manicured fingers danced over his button-down shirt as I approached, darkening my already sour mood.

Catching my gaze—or more accurately, my glare—the millionaire playboy grinned. “My apologies, ladies, but my seven o’clock just arrived. Thank you for entertaining me while I waited.”

Three sets of female eyes turned to look me over, all of them narrowing in annoyance, as Will finished his glass of wine. He signaled for the bartender, who ran over to greet him.

“Yes, Mister Mershano?”

“Please charge this to my room, as well as anything these lovely ladies desire for the evening.” He flashed his dimples at the lovely ladies, which transformed their severe expressions into ones of adoration. I rolled my eyes.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Blondie trailed her red nails down the buttons of his shirt to his belt, where he caught her wrist and brought it up to his lips.

“Another time, darlin’.” He murmured, his dark eyes on mine as he nipped the woman’s palm and dropped it. “Enjoy your evening, loves.”

The women around him seemed to sigh as a collective unit as he pushed away from the bar. If he heard them, he didn’t acknowledge it, just kept his burning gaze on mine as he sauntered up to my side.

“We can reschedule if you have other things to do,” I said by way of greeting. “Or should I change that to ‘people’?”

Laughter stared down at me. “My only plans tonight are with you, darlin’. Shall we go upstairs?”

“You sure you don’t want to invite your new friends?” They seemed to be mourning his loss and planning my untimely demise.

“Maybe later.” He tugged the bag from my arm and slipped it over his shoulder. I opened my mouth to inform him I could carry it myself, but my throat constricted around the words.

He nodded his head toward the elevator bay in a follow me gesture and led the way while I trailed along behind him.

Maybe later. Those two words were a kick to the stomach and weighed heavily on my thoughts as we headed up to his room.

Why do I care? Will had every right to play the field and probably did frequently. As a wealthy, handsome bachelor, he likely attracted countless conquests, hence the harem at the bar.

This just happened to be the first time I saw him hitting on a woman other than me, which meant my earlier thoughts about his flirtation being harmless were right. The man didn’t need to offer a woman a job in exchange for some midnight company. A little bit of wine and his charming self did the trick just fine. I’d seen the look in their eyes; all three of those women would have accompanied him upstairs if he asked.

To live a life of leisure . . . That thought took on a whole new meaning when Will opened the door to his presidential suite. Not the penthouse, but pretty damn close.

“Holy wow,” I breathed, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Lake Michigan. I slipped out of my shoes, leaving them by the door, and padded over to admire the view. The lake glistened in the evening sun, taking on an endless appeal that stole the air from my lungs. I loved this city, but sometimes it suffocated me. This view reminded me of the world beyond it, giving me a sense of hope.

Will’s reflection appeared in the window as he wandered up behind me with two glasses of wine. I considered refusing on principle, but I loved a good red. Besides, it’d been a long few days and I could use the drink. “Cabernet Sauvignon?”

“Yes, with black cherry notes and a splash of plum.”

I shook my head as I turned to accept a glass. “A simple yes would suffice.”

“What would be the fun in that?” He tapped his drink against mine. “To new partnerships.”

Sure. “Cheers.” I took a sip and fought a moan. Dear God, the man knew his wine. “This is delicious.”

“I know.”

I grinned over the rim at him. “Cocky.”

“I prefer ‘confident.’ ” He took another sip, eyes smoldering as they danced over me. “Did Janet follow up with you about getting started?”

“She called me around six to say I could do a preliminary review of the materials, but that’s it.” Until he signed on the dotted line, I couldn’t offer any legal advice or start researching on his behalf, but I was allowed to look over whatever documents he wanted to share.

He gestured toward the living area I ignored in favor of the view. It was twice the size of my apartment’s common room and had a full kitchen off to the side that overlooked a dining area with a table set for eight. A hallway trailed off to the right, leading to a few bedrooms and bathrooms.

I folded my legs under me on the oversized couch while he took the chair and swapped his wine for a laptop. He hadn’t changed out of his business attire yet, leaving him in black slacks and the same white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

His exposed forearms flexed as he typed, alluding to the ample muscle beneath his clothes. Those long legs were all strength, and the way his belt cinched around his lean waist suggested his familiarity with the gym. Or maybe he acquired his figure after long hours at the vineyard. He had the hands of a man who worked hard, not that of an aristocrat. I noticed that the first day we met. His palm had felt rough and masculine against mine, not soft and satiny. It didn’t match the charming persona, or the entitlement attached to his last name.

“All right, this should be enough for you to get started.” He set the laptop on the table between us. “I’m going to order some dinner. Any preferences?”

“Not really.” I hadn’t eaten much all day—a side effect of stress and not sleeping well. That made nearly finishing this glass of wine dangerous, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I set the glass aside and picked up his computer to review the contents on the screen. “What am I looking at?”

“The property in France that I’m acquiring. There are a few others, but this is the most imminent, as they want an in-person meeting in just over a month.”

“Where are the others?” I asked more out of curiosity than anything else.

“Various places, none of which are set in stone yet, so let’s focus on the French vineyard first.”

“You’re the boss.” I regretted it the second I said it. Grimacing, I met his amused gaze.

“Client,” he corrected. “But feel free to address me as ‘sir’ anytime, darlin’.”

I snorted. “Not going to happen.”

His pupils dilated as he studied me. “We’ll see,” he murmured in a tone that lacked his usual teasing quality. It was low and alluring and touched me in all the right places. Oh, I liked that voice far too much, as well as the look that came with it. Confidence smoldered in his chocolate irises and curled his lips into a seductive smirk that had me clenching my thighs.

Shit.

Maybe meeting in his suite was a bad idea. I always seemed able to ignore my attraction to him when in the comfort of my own space, like the apartment or the office. But here, in his space, with his spicy scent seducing my senses, I felt hypnotized by his presence, by the way his thumb swept over his bottom lip as he studied me, by the heat flaring in his eyes.

Look away.

I focused on the website he pulled up, and started reading in French. It was all gibberish, not due to a lack of understanding, but due to my brain forgetting how to read. Each word sounded wrong in my head. I couldn’t even translate the company name.

Yes, this is a great start.

Pull it together, Dawson.

I peeked at Will and found him leaning against the wall, with an ankle crossed over the other, as he played with his phone. Completely unaffected. Meanwhile, my cheeks burned with a fervor.

The man was potent. If a few glances and words set me on fire, what could his hands do?

So not thinking about that.

Except I was. A very vivid image of what I would like his hands to do to me flashed through my thoughts. I bit my lip to keep from moaning. This was what forced celibacy had debased me to. And the lack of sleep wasn’t helping.

Focus, Rach.

I started rereading the vineyard’s history, and the words semi-clicked in my mind. I’d gotten about halfway through a paragraph when Will’s warm tones distracted me again.

“Evenin’, Vanessa.” A pause, then his trademark chuckle caressed my senses. “You know me so well. Uh-huh. There will be two of us dining tonight. Yes.” Another deep laugh. “No, she’s a colleague. Exactly. Thank you, darlin’.” He slipped the phone into his pocket with a shake of his head and pushed off the wall to sit across from me again. “I ordered us a pizza.”

“Didn’t hear anything about food in that conversation.” It was the second time tonight I sounded like a jealous girlfriend. First with the women downstairs, and now with his phone call. So unprofessional.

He brought his ankle up to rest on his knee. “Vanessa knows what I like.” I just bet she does. “So what do you think of the vineyard?”

“Uh, I’m not done reading about it yet.”

He arched a brow. “I thought you spoke French fluently.”

“Bien sur que oui, mais je suis fatiguée.” Of course I do, but I’m tired. Not the full truth, but true nonetheless.

“Très bien, ma chérie.” Very good, sweetheart.

His accent blew mine out of the park. Why was that so sexy? “What other languages do you speak?”

“Italian, Spanish, and I know enough German to be dangerous.”

Impressive. “I only know French and English.”

He shrugged those broad shoulders. “You weren’t groomed to work for an international hotel chain. I’d argue your law degree from Northwestern is far more impressive.”

“Don’t you have an MBA from Stanford?”

“Are we measuring our resumes, Miss Dawson?”

“Just pointing out your impressive qualifications, Mister Mershano.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “You find me impressive, do you?”

I rolled my eyes at the innuendo in his tone. “Stop distracting me. I need to read.”

“Now I’m a distraction?”

Picking up the throw pillow beside me, I hefted it at his head. He caught it with one hand and laughed.

“Careful, darlin’. You don’t want to start a pillow fight with me unless you intend to finish it.” His deep baritone elicited a shiver from deep within me. The man affected me like very few men ever had, and his gaze said he knew it. My decision to meet him here escalated from maybe being a bad idea to definitely being a bad idea. I clearly couldn’t keep my mental faculties in check around him in such an intimate space. Next time, we would meet in my office or in a conference room. Or in a crowded café.

Ryan’s ringtone filled the air, dousing cold water over my hormones. It must be after seven thirty.

Will hopped up to grab my purse, forcing me to scramble off the couch. I nearly dropped his laptop in the process but managed to set it on the table and reach him just in time to snag the phone from his hand.

“Whoa, darlin’. I wasn’t going to answer it.”

The ringing stopped, then started again a second later. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply through my nose. Ryan wouldn’t stop until I answered. If I turned off my phone, he’d show up at my office tomorrow. Or worse.

“Is there somewhere I can take this?” I asked without looking at Will.

“Sure, down the hall is the master bedroom. I’ll stay out here to wait for the food.”

I swallowed. “Thank you.”

My stocking-covered feet slid a little as I wandered down the marble-floored hallway to the open door at the end. I passed two doors along the way but wanted to be as far away from Will as possible when I made this call. The last thing I needed was for Ryan to hear a male voice in the background.

Shutting the door behind me, I moved to the oversized bed in the middle of the room and leaned against it. The dimming sun cast the room in eerie shadows, befitting my mood. When the phone rang again, I answered it.

“Hi—”

“Where are you?” he demanded.

I cleared my throat. “I told you I’m working.”

“Don’t lie to me, Rachel.”

“I’m not.” Silence settled over my shoulders and scattered goose bumps down my arms. He wasn’t even breathing. “Ryan—”

“You know, when you mentioned having to work, I actually felt bad. I picked up a nice dinner for us to enjoy in your office, so imagine my surprise when I opened the door to an empty room.”

My heart dropped to my stomach. Not because of the darkness coloring his tone, but because of his words. Baker Brown resided in a secure building. Keycards were required after hours, and they were programmed by floor. I also locked my door before I left. It was possible a security guard let him up, he knocked without an answer, and he jumped to assumptions, but I doubted it.

He has a key to my office . . .

“Where are you?” he repeated when I said nothing.

My legs started to wobble, forcing me to sit on the bed. “I’m with a client,” I managed.

It seemed that whenever my confidence started coming back, Ryan chased it away with a simple appearance or a tone. How many times would I allow him to do this to me? Why did I put up with it?

Every time he showed up or called, he acted like we were still together. It didn’t matter what I said or how many times I refused, he still owned me.

And I hated him for it.

I hated myself for allowing it.

“You’re with a client?” he repeated, incredulous.

“A potential one, yeah.” I coughed to dislodge the cotton balls coating my throat. “I’m reviewing their portfolio and assessing the scope of their project.” I purposely avoided a male pronoun. “Baker Brown is drawing up a proposal, and if it’s accepted, I’ll be the primary point of contact.” I stopped explaining. Too much information.

He said nothing for too long. “What’s the project?” I listed a few financial statistics, and he let loose a low whistle. “And they want you to lead it?” He sounded not so much surprised as impressed.

“Yes.” I didn’t elaborate.

“Wow, that’s great, baby! Why didn’t you say anything?”

I shivered at his swift change in demeanor. Hello, Doctor Jekyll. “I didn’t want to jinx it.” It was the best excuse I could come up with on the spot. Because it’s none of your fucking business, was what I wanted to say, but the words sat heavy in my chest.

“Are you out with clients right now?”

I didn’t correct his use of the plural. “Yes.”

“So that’s why you didn’t answer. Okay. Sorry, babe, I thought . . .” He trailed off on a breath, and I sensed him shaking his dark head. “Hey, we need to celebrate.”

Or we could not and say we did. I bit my lip, considering. “Well.” Think faster, Rach. “Assuming the proposal is accepted, I’ll have to drop all my current tasks to get caught up. There’s a lot of work to do, and they want me to travel, so I have no idea what my schedule is going to look like or when I’ll be free.” It all came out in a rush, a habit when my nerves took over. He’s going to think I’m lying.

“Yeah, no, I totally get that. Of course. We’ll figure it out, though, baby. We always do.”

You mean you always figure it out. “Right.” A female voice floated down the hallway, telling me the pizza had arrived. Or maybe Will’s friends from the bar. I frowned. “I’ve gotta go.” My voice sounded stronger. Irritated, even.

“Of course. Go woo the client, baby girl. You’ve got this.”

Those last three words used to empower me. That was before I understood their purpose. “Thanks,” I forced out, my temporary strength forgotten.

He blew a few kisses through the phone before hanging up, and I threw myself into the pillows behind me. I pulled one over my face and fought the urge to scream. It was that or throw my mobile across the room. I’d done that before. My bank account hated me for it.

“Fuck!” The feathers muffled my yell, so I did it again. And again. Over and over, while my body trembled with rage.

“You know, darlin’.” The deep male drawl chased away my unease, replacing it with a hotter emotion. One that slid over my body like a forbidden caress, causing all my limbs to lock in place. “A man might get the wrong idea after finding a woman lying in his bed and screaming, ‘Fuck,’ over and over again.”