Two weeks earlier

For a black-tie event, there were a lot of vibrant colors in the room. Not only on the walls, or along the over-packed tables of over-priced cheese and shrimp, but on the bodies of the guests. Gucci purses, Michael Kors, Chanel—I knew them all by sight.

I had to. One of the first things I noticed when running Sergio’s expense reports was how much the man wasted on clothing. Not just for himself, but for his clients. He was obsessed with gifting luxury brands, like he was searching for an excuse to blow his hard-earned cash.

My eyes darted from guest to guest, keeping a running tally in my head. Two-thousand... fifteen-thousand... I made it to forty-grand before I finished walking through the entry-way of the mansion. Sergio’s hand clamped down on me, halting me in my tracks. “You made it!” he laughed, glancing me over quickly. “You look good enough. This the nicest thing you own? I know a guy downtown that works with custom fabric from Italy, remind me to buy you a new suit at our next meeting.”

I brushed the knot of my coal-black tie. “Please don’t.”

His laugh was strong; it drew polite smiles from everyone in earshot. “Come on, Rolland. Let me show you around. This is the first time you’ve been in here, huh?”

Not quite. But I wasn’t keen to correct him. “I’d love a tour.”

“Sure, sure.” His finger jabbed my broad chest. “Don’t use this as a chance to scold me later for where my money ends up. You’re not here to work tonight, you’re here to have fun, so turn that brain of yours off.”

Instantly I remembered another time someone wanted me to turn my brain off.

It was my fifth birthday party and I’d been obsessed with magic. No matter how hard my parents tried to sign me up for soccer or take me out to the playground, my weekends were spent with my magic set, practicing the same card tricks and hidden coin illusions again and again. So naturally for my party, my parents hired a magician, assuming I’d be delighted by an up-close and private show. And I was amused as I watched the magician work, because I recognized every trick he did and could replicate it myself. I was studying the fluidity of his act and taking mental notes so I could improve my own. I was having a great time, laughing and watching with my schoolmates, until his final act.

No matter how much I’d begged my parents, they’d refused to buy me a dove. My five-year-old brain knew that to be a real magician, I needed a bunny or a dove to step up my act. Bunnies seemed like they required too much care, so I had my heart set on a dove. And here it was, right in front of me for the first time, a magician about to do the dove pan trick.

He showed the audience his shiny brass pan, demonstrating that it was empty inside. The pan looked like a typical dish I’d find in my mother’s kitchen. He filled the pan with a clear liquid and then dramatically cracked an egg inside it. With a flourish, he lit the pan on fire and quickly slammed the lid on top to extinguish the flame. My friends were squealing, but I was laser focused, watching for the slightest sleight of hand or movement from within his jacket.

He commanded the audience of five-year-olds to repeat the magic words, “Happy Birthday, Rolland,” (a weak connotation in my opinion), and then he lifted the lid to reveal a single gray dove inside. The other children erupted in applause as he took his bow, and my mother’s voice rang out “Cake time!”

But I couldn’t move, I couldn’t join the other children who were hovering over my birthday cake and waiting to belt out Happy Birthday to me. My mother begged me to just believe, to stop thinking so much and come enjoy my party. But my mind was in chaos. I had a buzzy feeling in my head that wouldn’t go away.

Where had that dove come from? It didn’t add up for me.

I went over every step of that trick, tried to find some explanation for how that dove appeared. I didn’t believe in magic. I believed in processes and logic, and I wanted to understand. I ignored my parents’ pleas and examined that brass pan until the magician finally promised to teach me the trick after I blew out my candles. And he did teach me the trick—the secret is in the lid.

I've never been able to turn my brain off. Not once.

My lips tightened. “I can’t.”

Sergio squinted at me. We were nearly eye to eye—I was only an inch taller than the massive man. I wondered if I’d look like him when I was in my fifties, too. Like a guy who’d body-built his whole life while never cutting back on an extra slice of pizza at each meal. “Rolland, listen to me closely. I like you. I like your mind even better. I’m not keeping you on the clock, so if you want to juggle numbers, I can’t stop you. But I don’t want to hear any of it this evening.”

The subtle rumble of his threat made my heart jump. It was easy to forget the rumors about Sergio Montalla. His company was legit as legit could be, but men like him—with a long history and longer friendships—were dangerous.

“I understand,” I said.

“Good.”

We continued walking with the tension hanging between us. It remained like cloying smoke through the foyer, the massive game room, the chaotic kitchen, and finally, the grand ballroom. I counted up the ice sculptures—fifty, really?—then the towers of macarons shaped like rainbow colored Christmas trees. He really expected me to ignore how much this party cost?

“Sergio!” a gritty voice shouted. I turned to spot a smooth-headed man waving across the room.

“That’s Wes,” my boss explained in my ear. He swung his arm back in a polite gesture. “I need to talk to him. Keep up appearances and all that.” He gave me a quick jab in the ribs. “You have fun, that’s an order.”

I managed a tight smile. “I don’t remember anything in my contract that says you can order me around.”

Sergio’s lips curled higher, but there was no humor lightening his hard tone. “Not everything has to be written down. Some things are just assumed by wise men, Rolland.”

Standing straighter, I watched him head towards Wes and the others. He really wants me to relax. Fine. There was enough alcohol and food at this party to lose an hour in. It wasn’t like I hated parties—I just preferred quieter settings. Noise messed with my head, and I loathed anytime my wits weren’t razor-sharp.

Distractions never helped anyone.

“Excuse me,” a warm, flowing voice said at my elbow. “I don’t think you belong here.”

Blinking, I stared down at the woman, making sure she was speaking to me. Her almond-eyes glistened under a heavy roof of lashes. There was no question that those gorgeous eyes were focused on me. “I was invited,” I said, “Of course I belong.”

“Oh no.” She clicked her tongue—I caught myself staring at how pink it was against her plum lipstick. “I can spot an outcast a mile away. The guys who come to these events have one thing in common.”

“And what’s that?”

Her smile lit up my heart. “They drink. A lot. And your hand is empty, so...”

Caught off guard—and loving it—I cupped the back of my neck. “Fair enough.”

“Did no one come around and offer you something?” she asked, scanning the room with her hands on her luscious hips. “I’ll wave someone down.”

“No, no. I just—” Don’t drink much, I almost said. Should have said. Why didn’t I? “Don’t go to any trouble. The staff here are working themselves to the bone.”

She lifted her eyebrows dubiously. “You think Sergio doesn’t pay them enough for that?”

“He pays everyone too much,” I corrected her with a chuckle.

Something flashed in her eyes, so slippery I couldn’t make sense of it. “That’s a good thing,” she said.

“Good for them. Not good for Sergio.”

Her mouth went tight. “Who are you?”

Shit. I was being too loose with my tongue. This girl could be someone who’d run to Sergio and claim I was bad-talking him. “Rolland. I work for him, I’m in charge of keeping him from bleeding his coffers dry. And you’re...”

Five slim, pink-glossy tipped fingers extended my way. “Nobody you should care about.”

I shook her hand. Her soft as hell fucking hand. “But you do have a name.”

“Of course. A very nice one.”

“Which is?”

Her smile grew so wide I could count her porcelain-white teeth. “Call me your excuse for getting a drink and avoiding more boring conversations. Let’s get some air out back.”

The abrupt way she avoided my question while also snatching my wrist, tugging me across the reflective floor, should have bothered me. But there was something in the air. Some strange part of me that found her chaos... attractive.

Letting her take me through the crowd, I watched how her long hair flowed over her naked back. The dress she had on hugged every inch of her body. It kept me quiet so that I didn’t speak again until we were stepping out into the beautifully lit garden under a sea of stars. “Tell me your name. I told you mine.”

She glanced back at me. “No one forced you.”

“I have to call you something.”

“Fine. Call me ‘That Fun Girl.’” She spun, releasing me. We’d wandered deeper into the back garden—a quiet spot, the murmur of the party far away. “That’s all I want to be right now. It’s enough.”

I nodded thoughtfully. If she didn’t want me to push this, fine. Maybe being the Fun Girl was enough for both of us.

Her attention strayed to my face. Then she ran her eyes down to my feet and back again, lingering on my shoulders where they pushed into my suit-jacket. “You said you work with Sergio and his money, but you look like a body guard.”

“How do you mean?”

Fun Girl—or FG, as I began to think of her—laid her palm flat on my chest. As she stroked my tie, I inhaled sharply. “The muscles, mostly.”

Jesus. My heart was thudding, she could definitely feel it. “I work out in my condo every morning.”

Her cute nose crinkled from laughter. “Every single morning?”

“Of course.”

“And do you use an almond face scrub, too?”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing, sorry, it was a dumb American Psycho reference.” Her nails raced over my tie, leaving my skin beneath tingling. “I admire your dedication to exercise. I wish I had a drive like that.”

“If you’re saying you don’t have to work out to stay so gorgeous, I’ll admit that makes me jealous.”

She bit her bottom lip. “You think I’m gorgeous?”

“You must hear that all the time.”

“Hardly.” She backed away, glancing out at the garden around us. “People don’t have the balls to tell me what they really think.”

I adored the crass way she spoke. It was nothing like the saccharine women I was surrounded by day in and day out at the office. But if you’d asked me if I liked that sort of rude language, I’d have denied it.

Maybe it was different because it was coming from a pair of shiny plump lips.

“Well,” I said, reaching out to take her hands. Her fingers twitched like a caught bird. “I’ll be brutally honest. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever spoken to, and it’s killing me that you won’t tell me your real name.”

Twisting towards me, she glanced at our hands, then squeezed them. “If the mystery went away, you’d stop being so open with me.”

She smelled like plums and cloves. Like a midnight moment when you’re straddling the past and the future, and you aren’t sure if you should have regrets or hope.

Her lips grazed mine, forcing me to stay in the present. To feel nothing but bliss. All of my coiled up tension from entering Sergio’s home and seeing his wasteful spending evaporated in the touch of this strange woman.

He told me to have fun, I reminded myself as I buried my hands in her hair. That was enough to justify forgetting that this was so unlike me. I was a planner, a plotter, a fan of precision. This garden affair was the opposite of my whole world.

“You kiss so good,” she whispered against my mouth. Curling my arms around her body, I kissed her harder, pressing my tongue on her soft warmth. She gripped my wrist and guided my palm to her left breast, forcing me to fondle her.

Whatever resistance I had crumbled away. My thumb brushed her firm nipple through the silky surface of her black dress. She hissed, hot air going down my throat, fueling me like I was a steam engine.

“Please,” she moaned. “I want... I want...”

“What do you want?” I demanded.

Her voice broke. “To not feel so trapped.”

I startled. “What—” FG didn’t let me finish; she kissed me harder than ever, driving us to the ground. Her weight made the cool garden grass stab into my spine. She slid down my body, then struggled with my belt. I hurried to help her, no longer caring if we got caught by someone wandering the garden.

She rubbed her cheek up and down my cock through my pants. I grit my teeth, moaning at the delicious pressure. For several minutes she toyed with me—nuzzling my shaft, tracing her nails down my thighs. When she finally pulled my pants down enough to reveal my boxers, I was dizzy. I thought I’d come before she touched my skin.

“Oh,” she gasped as she guided my cock into the air. Her palm was warm but my taut skin was hotter. I looked down my body to see her eyeing my thick cock like she was mesmerized. I knew I was big, but was I that impressive?

Her eyes met mine. She was blushing, but there was an eagerness sparkling in her stare. Tucking her hair over her shoulder and out of the way, she kissed the head of my cock. “Fuck,” I growled. “That’s amazing.”

Her chest filled with air, pushing her cleavage upwards. She nuzzled the tip of my prick over the skin of her breasts, thrilling me. It was nothing compared to what came next.

The edge of her tongue slid across the underside of my dick. Impatient, she dove forward, circling me with her mouth and taking me in halfway. Saliva dripped down to my balls—she was slathering me up. Her hair fell forwards, partially hiding the view. I reached down, meaning to brush it away, but something primal took control. I gripped her soft hair, using it to guide her mouth until her lips wrapped solidly around my dick.

Hot tingles awoke in my cells, expanding until my heart was buzzing. I’d always thought of myself as a patient man, but I couldn’t resist thrusting into her throat. She coughed, but she kept working to get the last inches of me past her gag reflex.

“I’m damn close, I’m going to come any second,” I whispered.

She moaned around my cock, her tongue grinding on the sensitive cleft underneath. When she started to cup my sack, handling me so gently, so experimentally, I was done for.

Arching my hips, I thrust towards the night sky. She made a wet, choking sound, but she didn’t stop sucking me off. Not even when my cock swelled bigger than ever. My climax obliterated the world around me; I saw nothing but flashes of color that matched the stars. Distantly, I felt my come pouring into her mouth. She swallowed every drop.

She gasped for air after she pulled away. Looking down, I saw her crouched between my thighs. Her hair was damp in places where it had touched her wet chin. Quickly she wiped at her face, erasing the evidence of how she’d given me a messy blow job. I watched with fascination as she smirked. “That was... something else,” she chuckled.

“That’s what I should be saying.” I sat up, reaching for her. Before I could capture her for another kiss, a voice rang out nearby. The party. I’d forgotten all about it.

She looked around, then climbed to her feet. “Let’s get back,” she said, dusting dirt from her knees. “People will notice we’re gone if they haven’t already.”

Fuck. Sergio. “You’re right,” I agreed. But I wanted to stay. I wanted to make her come like she’d done for me, and I wanted to kiss her until she told me her real name. She couldn’t remain my Fun Girl forever. Not after what we’d done.

Together we walked through the darkened gardens. The house rose up—we’d been much closer than I’d considered. Had anyone heard us out there in the hedges? As we climbed the back steps, weaving through the crowd that sipped their endless champagne, I spotted Sergio.

“Oh, there you are!” he said, looking my way as I approached.

I started to dig for an excuse for why I’d vanished during the party. This whole affair was so unlike anything I’d ever done. But Sergio wasn’t looking at me. He was staring just beyond, at my Fun Girl. “Tatiana, you sweet thing.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Meet Rolland, my best financial adviser on the books.”

Her beautiful eyes locked on mine, reflecting our wicked secret about what we’d been doing minutes ago in the garden. “I already met him, Daddy.”

Daddy.

And I knew I was properly screwed.