Bitterness curls my tongue as the last guests slip out the front door. I have a ton of shit to clean. The mess stacks on tables and chairs. Dozens of empty glasses and plates of half-eaten food. The place was scavenged. None of them stayed behind.

What did you expect?

I guess I thought they’d be a little more sensitive. Offer to help out, considering my ex died and all. Nope, that was too much to ask. Bastien warned me—Give up on nice.

I gather the cups three at a time, blinking through a world of murky colors, and then I slam them on the kitchen countertop. Dozens of drinks stack on the marble, and then I slide all the silverware into the sink. It crashes into the stainless steel bottom. I don’t give a shit about the noise.

The energy it takes not to seethe with jealousy of all the other women who have normal lives and husbands leaves me exhausted at night. I’ve tried every coping mechanism. It’s not getting better. I’m not letting this go.

A cough distracts me from scrubbing a stubborn spot on a cooking sheet. It clatters as I let it drop and rush toward my father’s wheezing. I sprint into his office. He’s doubled over on the desk, hacking, reaching for the oxygen tank.

“Jesus, Dad!” Running inside, I right the tank and fit the apparatus over his head. Then I twist the valve and the oxygen hisses through.

Winded, he sinks into his chair and sucks down air in horrifying gasps. “T-thank you, hon.”

“Why are they smoking in our house? You shouldn’t have allowed them. Don’t they understand how sick you are?”

“It’s fine, Eva.”

“No, it’s not!” My hand flutters over my rapidly beating heart. Every time I leave the home, I’m gambling with his life. “If you keep taking stupid risks like this, you’ll die! Is that what you want?”

“Eva, calm down. I told you what the doctors said. I have a few months left, that’s it.”

“So you’re giving up?” I stare at him, hating the sight of my father hooked up to an oxygen tank.

“A little smoke won’t make a difference.”

He’s dying. I’m angry about that, too. He could’ve stopped smoking years ago and saved his lungs, but it’s more than that. If my last name wasn’t Romano, I’d already have a family.

Mom died when I was four. Dad used to rock me in his arms as tears slid down his cheeks. The chain smoking and the carousel of mistresses started soon after. He never took one as a second wife. For as long as I remember, it’s been just us.

“Can you sit?” he says, sounding feeble. “I want to talk.”

With a sigh, I pull a chair from his oak desk and sit. “What is it?”

“I’m worried about you.” His eyes glaze with regret. “You’ve put your life on hold because of me. It breaks my heart to see you like this.”

God, he’s crying. I reach across the table, cradling his hand. “Dad, it’s okay.”

“You’re my baby girl. All I want when I leave this world is to know you’re taken care of.”

“Jesus, I’m not completely hopeless.”

He grits his teeth, pained. “Eva, the family is dying off. It’s my fault. I’m not strong enough to do this anymore. No, listen to me. This is important. I won’t be around. You’ll be alone in this house. Don’t think for a second my soldiers will make sure you’re safe after I’m gone. They won’t.

“I want to see my daughter happy before I pass. You’ve been dying to start a family, and it’s my fault you haven’t been able to.”

“What the hell do you think I’ve been trying to do? There’s no one else I’m interested in.”

“What about Sébastien?”

A thrill runs through me. “What?”

“I saw you talking to him. Twice.”

My heart beats faster. “So? He’s a stranger to me.”

Father sits, removing the tubes from his nose and cutting the oxygen flow. “So was Marc, hon. I already asked Bastien.”

“You what?” I stand so fast the chair topples.

“He called you beautiful. Said he’d think about it.”

My cheeks fill with heat. “Of course he did! You’re the boss. What the hell was he supposed to say?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “It wasn’t an order. Eva, I watched him since he joined, and he’s a decent guy. I like him a lot more than the men I’ve known for years. You two would get along.”

“Oh my God, Dad.” I laugh, ironing my face with my hand. “I can’t believe you went to him without asking me first.”

“What?” he says, defensive. “He’s handsome, right?”

“Yeah, but Marc just died!” How did this happen?

He adopts a somber expression. “I know you liked him, but he’d want you to move on.”

Liked him? Was my lukewarm affection toward him obvious?

I shake my head. “I can’t stomach getting attached to another man and having it ripped away again.”

“You’ve always insisted on building a life with someone in the family. Why not give Sébastien a shot?”

I don’t trust him. “You’re crazy, Dad. He doesn’t want me.”

Or he wants my dad’s position when he dies.

Dad leans over the desk, his features hardening with rage. “If that’s true, he’s a fucking moron.”

* * *

This is where Bastien lives. A brownstone in Griffintown, the concrete cleaved in two from years of ice destroying the cement. The apartment is well-maintained. Several attractive bushes with long-petaled purple flowers grow under the bay windows. I climb the broken steps and sit, waiting for a tall, shadowy figure to slide underneath the streetlights.

What the hell am I doing here?

This is crazy.

Marc’s body isn’t cold yet, and my dad thinks it’s a great idea to get engaged. According to Father, Sébastien is interested. I’m sure he is. Fucking the boss’ daughter would be a nice perk in addition to becoming his new son-in-law. I took a long time to agree to Marc. What Dad wants is impossible.

Besides, he lied to my father. There’s no way in hell he’s considering it. I want him to set my dad straight. He’s an old, sick man who wants to leave this world in peace. Why did Sébastien give him false hope?

I scan the dark streets and spot a man with a lanky build heading toward me. His walk is slow but deliberate. He passes under a beam of light, illuminating a devastatingly handsome face. The same one that caught me off guard at the funeral. Sébastien said he’d been around, but I would’ve remembered a guy like him.

A tight suit clings to his solid frame, the tie slung on his neck, undone. His short brown hair is mussed, as though he rolled out of bed. The unbuttoned jacket burdens him. Upon sighting his apartment, he shakes the coat off, flinging it over his shoulder.

I stand when he pushes through the gate, the metallic shriek making my guts clench. His sharp gaze passes over me. Flicks back. His eyes widen. There’s a nasty gash above one. It bleeds freely into his eye.

How did he get hurt? “You’re bleeding.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” He wipes the blood, leaving a bright smear on his hand.

“We need to talk.”

“How long have you been waiting? Does your father know you’re here alone?” He glances down the street, his knuckles whitening on the jacket.

“Ten minutes, and no.”

He jogs up the steps and seizes my arm. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about. In seconds he pins me to the door. He squeezes when I try to twist out of his hold. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Shut up.” He blocks my body from the street as he stabs his key into the lock.

It swings open, and I fall backward. Bastien yanks me into his chest, my palms flattening against hard muscle. The door slams once we’re inside, but his grip on my wrist is like iron. Naked fury blazes in his eyes. A five o’clock shadow fills his jaw and his upper lip.

Then the fire smolders. He releases me and steps back. Takes a breath as though holding me stole the air from the room. “You shouldn’t wander the streets alone.”

“I’m not involved in my father’s affairs! You should remember that next time you manhandle me.”

“You’ll get yourself killed,” he says, his voice scalding. “The family is in a weak position. They’ll hurt anyone connected to your father to send a message.”

A chill spider-crawls down my spine. “Who?”

“Take your pick, sweetheart. Jesus, move from the windows.”

Somewhat gently, he takes my hand and leads me into the living room. It’s a small place. Clean. Spartan. The lack of anything personal lining the walls makes it feel soulless and the furniture has a secondhand quality.

“Sit.” He points at the leather couch.

Something has me rattled, the blood trickling down his cheek or the raw honesty in his words. Or that we’re alone.

Goose bumps rise in a row on my skin as I sink into the cushions. Now that I’m here, I don’t know what to say. I heard my dad told you he wants us hitched, what do you think? Yeah, awkward.

Sébastien hangs his jacket in the closet and walks into the kitchen. “I’d offer you a beer, but we both know what happens when you drink.”

He’ll rub that in my face forever. “It happened one time.”

“Much as I like you when you’re wasted, I don’t think I’d be able to fight off your advances in my apartment.” Grinning, he yanks the freezer open, grabbing a bag of frozen vegetables. He wraps it around his discolored hand.

“What happened to you?”

“I’ve got a rough job,” he says.

I return the smile reluctantly. “I should come by another time. Sorry, it was rude of me to drop by.”

“Now is fine, but you should be lying low. I’m surprised your father didn’t warn you.”

“His mind has been on other things.” Still playing dumb, Sébastien gives me a curious look. I watch him carefully. “Like offering marriage proposals to random men.”

He grins. “Your dad wants to marry a man?”

“Don’t.”

My frigid tone doesn’t quite wipe the smile from his face. Sébastien returns to the couch, his body invading mine as he sinks into the cushions. He has the most beautiful eyes, and damn him for mocking me.

“Yeah, he and I had a little chat. He wants me to put a ring on your finger.” He doesn’t say it with shock or disgust.

My face burns. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell him to back off.”

“Why? Isn’t this what you want?”

Speechless, I gape at him. “I’ve never met you before this week.”

Bastien slides his hand under the bag of peas and grazes my arm, making an icy trail that leaves goose bumps. “I watched you. Out of respect for Marc, I never made a move. Now he’s gone. You still need a husband. Why not me?”

This must be a trick. Everything he’s saying. The desire burning in his gaze. My pulse reacting to his touch. All of it. “I don’t understand. You want this?”

“I do.”

What?

“You’re the wiseguy dream girl,” he says. “I can come home late and not get hassled. You won’t bitch if you find blood on my clothes. We have an understanding.”

“That doesn’t mean we’re perfect for each other!” I wince against my shout, so loud in this apartment.

Bastien is too calm, like a lake that never ripples. He smiles at me with a confidence that fills me with warmth. A light flickers in his eyes, a candle surrounded by darkness. “Eva, I’ve had my eye on you ever since the gala. You wore a gold dress.”

The charity benefit. My first big outing with Marc. The glitzy event was star-studded with celebrities, high-society women, politicians, and photographers. Hundreds of people attended.

“You were there?”

“Guard duty,” he says, looking at some faraway point. “I wanted you. You were gorgeous but attached. I could’ve ripped you from his arms and thrown you over my shoulder like a goddamn caveman. If he were anyone else, I would have.”

I laugh. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

He gives me a steely look, daring me to challenge him. “What kind of man does that make you?”

“The right one for you. Give up on nice.”

Bastien’s smile tugs at my chest. He is different. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something earnest about his honesty. He’s not trying to hurt me. He’s working like hell to win me over. I won’t lie, he’s doing a good job.

“I don’t buy this. You’ve never spoken a word to me before, and I’m expected to believe you want this.”

“Why the fuck do you think I’m interested?”

I don’t know. “Because I’m the boss’ daughter.”

“No,” he says, shocking me. “Although I would be lying if I said that wasn’t a bonus.”

“Then I have no idea.”

“You’re everything I want wrapped up in a pretty package.” He goes quiet, eyes devouring my face. “Marc is gone. You can’t do anything for him.”

I know.

He touches my cheek. “Don’t be upset.”

“How am I not supposed to be? Do you have any fucking idea the day I had?”

Impatient, he cuts in. “You want a family, right?”

“Not with a stranger.”

“You’ll get to know me,” he says, winking. “Maybe I’ll grow on you.”

He has no clue what the hell he’s getting into, does he? “I don’t care about love.”

“Bullshit. Every girl wants that.”

Not this one. “This is what will happen once we’re married. We’ll try for a baby.”

The air leaves the room as Bastien takes it in. “Right away?”

“That’s the plan.”

“You want me to fuck you without a condom.”

“Yes.”

“On our wedding night.”

“Yes.”

A feline smirk tiptoes across his face. “I can do that.”

“Can you?” The tease slips out of my mouth before I clamp it shut. Flirting with him is easier than it should be, and I can’t put my finger on why. He’s easy to talk to.

He sets down the bag. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“Maybe I need proof you’ll get the job done.”

In a flash, he seizes my waist and drags me over his lap. My heart shoots blood into my head, the pounding a dizzying distraction from his hands. One dives into my hair as my blood gallops ahead. The other grabs my wrist, guiding it toward his groin. I gasp, my fingers rolling over the thickness between his legs. Jesus, I was kidding.

Hot blasts of air hit my throat. His lips graze my neck. “There’s your proof.”

I’m still reeling from his closeness and how good it feels. God, I’m sitting on his lap. I can feel his heartbeat through his length. His hand slides from mine to grab my waist and I squeeze him reflexively.

He hisses. “Be gentle.”

My core pulses with heat at his growl. I touch his thigh instead, hating how much I love being in his arms. Shame fills my mouth with bitterness. “Why settle down—seriously? You could have anyone.”

“Eva, I’ve fucked around enough. I’m almost thirty. I want a woman to come home to.”

I scan his face, searching for an answer that’ll make me understand him. “Someone to cook and clean.”

“A fucking maid? No. What I need is a partner. I help you, you help me.”

“What if we don’t work well together? What if we drive each other crazy?”

“That’s good. Means I’m getting to you.”

I glare at him. “No, it’s not.”

“Damn, you’re a tough sell. That’s surprising, considering two nights ago you grabbed my cock. The moment I offer you something more, you balk.”

Patches of heat rise to my cheeks. “I was drunk and sad. Can you blame me?”

“No,” he says. “I’m a potential husband. I get why you’re nervous. It’s overwhelming.”

“It is.”

“There’s also the fact I’m the first attractive man you’ve ever been with.”

I snort.

“They don’t make them like me, sweetheart. Not in this family. No offense, but Adrián has a fucking harelip.”

I roll my eyes at him, but he’s right. His stupid jokes help me relax even though I’m on edge with his intoxicating warmth. “You’re full of one-liners, aren’t you?”

So he’s funny, sexy, and he wants me. What’s the catch?

“I’m a simple guy, Eva.” He squeezes my fingers around his cock to prove his point, and blood rushes to my head. “I don’t need much.” He moves my hand from his slacks to cradle my stomach. “I understand there’s a trade-off. You have needs just like I do.”

“What are you doing?” I gasp.

Bastien smiles against my skin, planting a kiss that makes a line of desire from my breasts all the way between my legs.

I shouldn’t want this. It’s wrong on so many levels. Marc wouldn’t—

A hot seal of his lips yanks my thoughts from the horror of today. His coarse hands stroke my body, warmth rippling from his touch. I gasp into his hair as he slides under my shirt. Fire ripples from his palm. He stops when he reaches my bra, fingers teasing the edge. Then he kisses my jaw, his movements possessive. Even Marc wasn’t this—oh my God.

Bastien grabs my tits, laughing as I groan to the ceiling. I’m a marionette, and he cut my strings. I melt into him, head tipped over his arm.

His eyes are drunk with lust. “I have a few conditions of my own.”

“Does your hand have to be there while you list them?”

“No, but it’s more fun this way.” He pinches my nipple, ecstasy shooting into my body. “When we’re married, you don’t ask questions about where I’ve been or what I’m doing.”

“I haven’t said yes.”

“Second thing,” he continues, unconcerned. “You do what I say when I fucking say it. No argument. No discussion.”

“Yeah, that’ll be a problem.”

“It’s a deal breaker,” he says in a hard voice. “And I will not compromise. You were born in this world, but you don’t know it. There are things I won’t tell you. If there’s an emergency, you’ll do as you’re told.”

My father sheltered me from the wheelings and dealings of the family. That much is true. It doesn’t mean I’m an idiot. “Fine. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” he says, lowering his lips to mine. “I know you just need my cock, but we’re going on dates. I want to show you off.”

My jaw drops open. “I’m not your arm candy.”

“What good is marrying the boss’ daughter if I can’t rub it in their faces?”

“Okay,” I grind out, baited by his stupid smirk. “You need to understand something, though. We’ll never be close. I won’t fall in love with you.” Bastien doesn’t wince at the harshness of my words, but his smile disappears. “There’s no point. So if that’s important, you should find someone else.”

“Eva, I’m not going anywhere.”

“He said that, too.”

A ruthless pinch seizes my nipple, forcing me to meet his smoldering gaze.

His mouth crushes against mine, tongue sweeping across my lips as he takes me in his massive arms. He kisses me hard enough to force me into the cushions. Every flick makes me gasp. The caress of his hands sets my nerves ablaze. I look into his eyes, possessed with a desire to straddle his hips and feel him thrust inside me.

He grabs my jaw. “I’m not him.”

My mouth opens with an apology, stilted by his thumb. It slides away, replaced by his lips. He gives me a lingering kiss. How long has he been waiting for this? It’s as though he rehearsed it many times and finally has me in his arms. I want my heart to steady, not melt.

He breaks from me, both of us gasping. Then he takes my hand, guiding it toward his slacks. His rock-hard length grazes my knuckles, a dark suggestion blazing in his eyes.

A phone rings.

Rage flashes across Bastien’s features as he sits up with a groan, sliding the iPhone from his pocket.

“What?” He looks at me. “Yeah, she’s here. We’re leaving now.”

Then he ends the call.

“Your dad’s in the hospital.”