The elder Randolph is a shell of a man, slow to sit up when we find our way into his room. It's disconcerting for such a fine room to smell so strongly of heavy medications and decay. I expected this, true, everything except the hateful energy in his eyes.

“What is it today?” Cal's father grunts after we take our seats.

I put on my best smile, trying hard to keep the girlfriend act up for this critical moment.

“Dad, how are you today?” Cal practically beams.

“Dying, the same as yesterday,” the old man snaps. “Who's she?”

Cal turns to me with a soft smile on his face. There's a clear tension behind it, a cruel apology that says, I'm sorry we have to sit through this shit.

“Madeline Middleton,” I say, reaching for his frail hand, without skipping a beat. “Soon to be Mrs. Calvin Randolph.”

His grip is firmer than I imagined. He squeezes hard, like he's testing to make sure I'm really here, and it's not some ghastly trick of his mind. “She doesn't look like an escort, at least. I'll give you that.”

“My fiancée is not a damned escort, dad. Please, just give her a chance. I wanted you two to meet before the end.” Cal sounds angrier than he should.

Almost like he's eager to defend my honor, but I really know it's about the trust, the severe risk this charade could fall apart here and now.

I release the old man's hand and replace it with Cal's. His fingers lace through mine, pinching so much harder than his father. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses the back. I don't know why it brings me instant goosebumps everywhere.

“We met in Beijing, Mr. Randolph. It happened like it was always meant to be. I've loved your son ever since,” I chirp, smiling so hard it hurts. It certainly isn't easy with the constant scowl on his thin, pale lips. “It's an honor to meet you. Really. I've heard so much. Everything about how you raised him, and took the firm to heights nobody ever imagined.”

“You heard lies, girl, no different than what you're feeding me.” He sits up straighter, closing his eyes for a couple seconds. My heart jumps into my throat, pounding much faster, before he looks at me again with extra disdain dripping from his eyes. They're eerily identical baby blues to Cal's. “I remember who you are. I still have a pulse and my memory, despite this withering flesh. I read the police reports.”

I turn my head, giving Cal a panicked look, pretending I'm not ready to jump out of my skin. Jesus. Now, what?

“Sometimes I think you're more forgetful than I am on my IV cocktail, boy.” He looks at Cal and sneers. “Did you really think you had a chance? Bringing this one here, thinking I'd magically forgotten the years our lives went to hell in a hand basket? Did you think I wouldn't remember her, you little idiot?”

“Had to do something to test your faculties, dad,” Cal spits the last word like it's rotten fruit. “Of course, we didn't meet in China. We stayed in touch all these years, and reconnected a few months ago.”

“Typical. I'm glad you showed me how much bunk your desperate cries about how much you've changed are, Calvin. You're a terrible liar. You always were. It's a small miracle you've gotten anywhere at RET at all, rather than collecting your accolades off the name I built with your grandfather.”

The two men stare, saying nothing, contempt in their eyes.

Hello, disaster. I sit for a second in the frigid silence, head spinning, wracking my brain for some unreachable combination of words that will salvage this.

“I knew you wouldn't approve,” Cal says quietly, moving his chair an inch closer to his father's bedside. “That's why I brought Maddie here anyway. I wanted you to see I'm building my life with the woman I love, the way I want, whether you leave me a fucking penny or not.”

“You're marrying your stupid little crush who brought us to the brink of ruin,” Mr. Randolph barks, giving me a furious look. “No more of this. You've come here with her to rub it in my face. Leave now, or I'll call the nurse and end this sickening joke myself.”

“Mr. Randolph, please!” I stand up, flustered. His hand stops, halfway to the red button for the intercom on his nightstand. “We were wrong to make up stories. It was my idea, and I'm sorry. I thought it'd go down easier that way. I was wrong. Truth is, Cal's about to make me the happiest woman in the world. I could care less about the fortune you two are playing tug-of-war with. As long as he's mine, I'm richer than I ever imagined. I'll just miss the fact that we could never win your approval.”

I don't know what comes over me, but it's making me shake. I plop back down in my seat before my own mouth runs me over, clueless why I'm so emotional. It's a bad situation, yes, probably the end of this whole stupid thing if he's already convinced Cal deserves squat. But it shouldn't be like this, cold ink running in my blood, vicious tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

“She's telling the truth, old man,” Cal says coldly. “This isn't a game. It's honesty. We fell in love because we learned how to deal with our pain, something you never did. Who the hell do you think kept my spirits up that year I spent in prison? And then when I couldn't find a job, couldn't find my way, couldn't find anything? Wasn't you, or even mom. Not after John. You never gave me a second chance, even when my brother begged you.”

Hearing his dead son's name makes the old man blink. “Don't you dare drag him into his. Watch your greedy, forked tongue.”

“Greedy? Oh, you ought to know a thing or two about it, dad. You earned the best money of your life after the funeral, when you stuffed yourself away in your booze and women, while mom cried herself to sleep alone. Maybe her heart wouldn't have given out if you'd been around to help mend it.”

“Like you'd know, Cal,” the old man says. “Spare me the high and mighty scorn from the good son who wasn't. If you ever gave a damn about this family, you'd have never broken her heart in the first place, before losing John killed what was left.”

I cover my mouth to hold in the gasp trying to slip out. When the elder Randolph turns to me, it's brutal. Cal sits quietly, bowed up like he wants more than anything to resolve this with more than words. Too bad force isn't an option.

“Watch out for him, girl. I don't know what you see, but don't let it blind you. He's a screw up, a liar, and a hideous excuse for a backup son.” He cranes his head, slowly rolling over, punching the call button on his intercom. Our signal to leave.

Thank God. I'm too stunned by the train wreck that's just happened to contemplate where we go from here.

But before Cal can grab the door, I hear his father's voice one more time, a hoarse whisper from the sheets. “If it could've been you, instead of John, we'd all be better off. I wish sometimes it was the Taliban who missed, and not that sick bastard's son.”

Oh, God. I look to my fiancé, searching for the shot to the heart I expect to see written all over his face.

There's nothing. Just a cold, blank tension he wears from the time he slams the door shut behind us, leads me through the mansion by the wrist, and climbs into the car without one word.

* * *

“I'm sorry, Cal. I didn't know what to do. Nothing could've prepared me for that.” Well, maybe if he'd given me a heads up about what a dying sourpuss his father really is, it would've been better than flying blind. But I can't blame him for the disaster.

“Forget it. You tried.” The wind sweeps through his short dark hair, casting a rugged edge to his chiseled good looks.

We're standing on the upper deck of the ferry as it churns toward it's Seattle terminal, putting the island and its secret money behind us. What do I even say to numb the hurt? It seems like it's so pointless now. If we can't convince his father, he's out of luck.

I might as well talk to my boss about coming back early. I'm mapping the conversation in my head, wondering if I'll be sent straight back to Beijing, when he turns away from me, beginning a slow walk across the ship.

Apparently, even my presence at his shoulder is too much. I don't know if he wants to be alone today, or forever.

I give him a few minutes alone before I step up, sheepishly whispering behind him. “If it's over, and you'd like me to go, I can.”

“Go? What the hell do you mean?” he turns, his eyes blue fire.

“I mean, it's over, isn't it? We lost. He couldn't have been more unimpressed with me if I'd spat in his face for the nasty things he said to you.”

Cal smiles, small and tenuous, but it brings such a delicious glow to his gorgeous face. “I miss your glasses, doll. You're beautiful without them, too, but you used to wear your innocence on your sleeve.”

“I got Lasik a few years ago,” I say, puzzled. “What have my glasses got to do with anything?”

“You're the same woman without them, aren't you? Older and wiser, sure, but same heart. Same spirit. Don't believe you'd be standing here with me right now participating in this facade if you'd changed for the worse.”

“Of course. I did what I had to.”

He lays a hand on my shoulder, an instant signal to my heart to quicken. “Then you should know I'm not so different, either. Not at my core. Would the Cal you knew at Maynard ever give up this fucking easy?”

He makes me smile. Shaking my head, I whisper one word, slipping into a chill that goes up my spine having nothing to do with the windy ride across the sea. “No.”

“Exactly. Come here, beautiful.” He doesn't give me a chance to pull away. No time to second guess what happens a second later.

His kiss is fierce, hot, and oh-so-nice. Cal attacks my mouth like it's natural, like we're more than frauds, sinking his tongue into mine, owning me from the inside out. His fingertips dig into my skin, too hard to be a proper peck. Too long to even be a normal kiss between lovers.

This is want. It's a living symbol of the desire flickering in my nerves, alive and magnetic, surrendering me to him for the next few seconds without the slightest protest.

It's plenty wrong, but I allow it because I hope it helps him feel better after the disaster an hour ago.

Heck, maybe I allow it because I want it, too. His hands, his lips, and his five o'clock shadow are a comfort. A very dangerous one, but a kindness nonetheless. It's the first time I really notice the black petals and vines with their tangled thorns stamped across the back of his hand as it slides down my cheek, returning to my side.

It takes me a long, terse breath to recover. “And what was that?”

“More practice. We aren't done, Maddie. If we can't convince my old man directly, we'll get to him through the senior partners and the board. Spence and Cade's dads have been good to me over the years, but they never forgot the bad. They're too afraid it isn't all behind me to go against dad. If I ever wind up with my share in the company and its money, they only see dire consequences.”

“If you think it's worth it, we'll try,” I say, giving him a nod. I owe him another shot, as long as he's treating me like a decent human being. Jesus, maybe more than decent, if I'm being honest. “When did you get this?”

I grab his hand, holding it up, marveling at how heavy and strong it is. He looks down, new ice in his eyes, reminding me I'd better not get too comfortable or ask too many questions.

“Jail. Black rose. Has to do with something private that went down there.”

Message read, loud and clear. He doesn't want to go further. Rather than probe more, I walk with him to parking on the lower level, hand-in-hand, seeing how we're only minutes away from docking.

Maybe the worst is over. If we're able to avoid another ferocious confrontation with his dad, then I think there's a chance I'll survive this fake fiancée thing without losing my mind, or my heart.

* * *

I'm in our old neighborhood the next morning, preparing to say hello to my parents before I get back to the condo and prep for our next chance to shine with the senior partners at Cal's firm.

It's always a little weird coming home. The old houses and rental duplexes haven't changed a bit since my college days. My parents live on the lazy side of the university, pockmarked with ramshackle houses and quirky businesses too forgotten to be gentrified by the city's housing boom.

I try not to quell my nerves when I knock at the door, expecting to see my mother's soft, pleasantly plump face appear through the glass before she lets me in. Instead, I see a girl in her early twenties, just a couple years younger than me, sticking her tongue out like a twelve year old.

“Home already, Kat? Lucky me. Thought you had to work afternoons?”

“Boss gave me the evening off to say hello to my big sis. Come the hell here.” She opens the door and sweeps me into a hug. “I'll make us some coffee.”

My little sister is grown up, but clearly no less a brat. We embrace just the same as close kin who haven't seen each other for the better part of a year.

She leads me into our old kitchen. The little stools at the breakfast bar are the same as I remember. I take my old spot at the one with a rickety leg, tapping my fingers impatiently on the peeling counter as I watch her fix our coffee. While a silver gooseneck kettle heats on the stove, she measures several spoons of coffee grounds into a glass chemex lined with a filter. Then slowly, lovingly, she pours the water across the grounds.

“Smells heavenly,” I say, inhaling the coffee-infused air. “If there's one thing I miss about home, it's the coffee. The stuff they're serving in Beijing just doesn't cut it. If you ever have a chance to go overseas, I bet you'll teach them a thing or two.”

Katrina rolls her eyes, watching as the last boiling water sifts through the grounds, draining dark brown goodness into the glass. “Oh, sure. I'll be on the first plane the second Mr. Kolaris opens his first international store. Sorry, Maddie, we can't all be international hotshot wunderkids.”

I smile sadly. There's more than a little jealousy in her voice, but she's usually supportive. For now, Kat has accepted the same fate I once seemed destined to, working at the small Greek coffee shop a few blocks away. It's close enough to bike to, even in the heavy rain. A major plus because that's the only vehicle she can afford on her tips and minimum wage.

“So, what really brings you back here?” she asks, sliding over my coffee. I take a few seconds to answer, savoring the rich flavors on my tongue. “Can't believe you'd take a leave of absence from paradise just a couple months after they finally sent you abroad like you always wanted.”

“Business doesn't care what I want,” I say, narrowing my eyes. I wonder how much my father passed along from the story I concocted when I told my parents I was coming home for several weeks. If they'd kept it on the down low like I asked, Kat wouldn't know it's a leave of absence at all.

“And what business it that?” she says, chugging her coffee like it's water. “Sterner doesn't do much here in Mandarin, I suppose. You're lucky they didn't drag you up to their new headquarters in Anchorage to freeze your nipples off.”

I laugh at the notion. The company's strongman CEO, Ty, spends most of the year in Alaska, the official base of operations every employee in Seattle and beyond contends with. Once upon a time, he rocked the boat quite a bit when he married his stepsister, a scandalous slice of drama making me all too aware why I'm really here, and what I need to keep hiding from my nosy little sister.

“I'll keep my nipples as long as I'm home, thanks. If you must know, I'm doing some side work with an old friend.” The last word tastes hard and bitter in my mouth. Whatever the hell Calvin is, he isn't my friend, as he recently made painfully clear.

“Boyfriend, huh? I always knew you were hiding something from us.” Kat says it so nonchalantly I almost spit out my delicious coffee.

“I'm not here for a boyfriend, sis. Don't know where you got that idea. I'm happily single and way too busy to pick over the expats, co-workers, and digital nomads who make up my options in Beijing.”

“Duh. That's why you came back here to land a man. Who is he?”

She just doesn't quit, does she? Rolling my eyes, I drain half my cup before I set it down, rolling over a few different options in my head.

There's a decent chance someone will find out the truth about my fake engagement sooner or later. If it's inevitable, I'll still welcome a delay. I can't put a price on time, however long I have to concoct a story about why I'm getting married, and then again when it falls through.

My little game with Cal has an expiration date. It's the only saving grace from getting too deep in drama or too attached.

“Madds, hello?” Kat waves her hand over my face, reminding me I haven't answered.

“Katrina, why do you even care? I want to have a good time here. I don't want drama,” I say, hoping my eyes are sufficiently patronizing for a big sis. “I get it. You're frustrated because you're stuck here, putting in your hours, trying to entertain yourself in this expensive, crazy town. I've seen the cost for a few drinks and a round of oysters – one night in Seattle is two week's worth in China. Admit it – you'd love to show mom and dad the daughter they banked on isn't as perfect as they think.”

“You think this is jealousy talking?” she snaps, snatching my cup for a refill. “Truth is, I'm worried. I'm just curious why you're lying to everyone instead of just fucking telling us you're engaged.”

“Engaged?” My heart almost stops. She slides my cup back slowly, a satisfied 'gotcha' spark in her eyes. “Where did you hear that?”

“Every hipster who's on his laptop at Roasted reads Seattle Widgets. Techies everywhere. Don't think I'd have missed their local gossip page today if I tried.” Smiling, she pulls out her phone, and taps it a few times. When she turns it toward me, I see myself on the screen.

At the charity auction.

In Cal's arms.

Completely swept away in his sudden, shocking, infuriating kiss.

FORGET THE PAST. CALVIN RANDOLPH MAKES IT OFFICIAL, AND YOU WON'T BELIEVE HOW HOT IT IS!

The cringe-worthy clickbait headline alone would burn my cheeks down, but the fact that it's accompanied by a banner sized pic of us locking lips, his bright blue eyes drilling through my soul, makes every drop of blood in my veins lava.

“Please, just let me break the news to mom and dad,” I say, my voice cratering to a whisper.

“Maddie, you don't even sound happy. What's really going on?” She props her face up, elbows on the counter, giving me a more concerned look than I've seen for years. “I can't believe you're marrying him...but the thing that really surprises me is, you sound like you can't believe it either.”

“It's not like that. Things happened really fast. Cal, he kept in touch after everything that went down at the academy. I wrote him for years. Found out we were on the same page about a lot of things. We decided to meet and...” It's hard to continue. Her eyes are huge, accusing, disbelieving. “Aw, screw it. I owe him one, Kat. I don't know if you were too young to understand everything that happened at Maynard years ago, but if he hadn't gotten between me and a disaster, I'd be nowhere. Now, he needs my help.”

“Of course I remember the news. It was all over,” Kat says, folding her arms and sticking out her nose, as if I owe her an immediate apology for questioning her crystal clear memory. She quickly gets over it and sends me a baffled look. “Wait, so...are you engaged to him, or not?”

I furrow my brow, wondering if there's even an answer to her question. “We are. But it's only temporary. He needs a fiancée, a wife, a woman to get his father to change his trust so he doesn't lose everything before he passes. Two, maybe three months tops – that's all the time his father's got – we'll know the outcome. We'll dissolve it. Pretend it never happened. I'll go on my merry way, and I'll never have to think about actually marrying Cal again.”

Why does saying that basic cold fact feel like a blow to my stomach?

At first, Kat looks stunned. She sets her coffee cup on the counter quickly, like she's seconds away from dropping it, and then flattens herself against the old fridge with its rust spots, releasing the world's longest sigh.

“Whew. And mom thought I sold out when I skipped community college to stay with my crappy indie band.”

“Hey, I'm not doing this for money.” It isn't that simple. She doesn't understand.

I should stop expecting anything different.

It's obvious, isn't it? No one will ever get the tragic connection between us. They weren't there for the heartbreak, the gnawing guilt, the years spent wondering where he'd gone when he never wrote back, and how badly I'd mucked up his life.

“Sis, I don't even want to know,” she says, holding out a hand, feigning to push me away. “You can keep your secrets to yourself, as long as you tell our parents. They deserve a run down, before they hear it from everybody else. Dad takes heart medication now, as you know.”

I do. He doesn't need more surprises, certainly not any rude, bizarre ones thanks to me.

Cup in hand, she marches out of the kitchen. I hear her clomp upstairs and slam the weathered door to her room.

Just like old times. I'm left alone to stew in my stress.

As unbearable as Kat can be, she has a point. I can't let mom and dad find out I'm engaged to the boy who became the talk of every hushed whisper Maynard parents uttered that year on some stupid blog, or through the local gossip mill.

Of course, that means there's a new dimension in this insane game of pretend we're playing. We're not just convincing his straight-buttoned business associates and screwed up father anymore.

We have to convince my freaking parents. And every time I imagine how that's bound to go, I wish to holy heaven sis' coffee came with a nice splash of hemlock creamer.

* * *

Cal makes himself scarce the next few days leading up to dinner with the partners. I've always been adaptable, able to conform to morning birds and night owls alike, but when he's in full work mode, I barely see him.

He's gone before sunup, when I roll out of bed and pad into the kitchen. I spend the daytime more alone and confused in the vast Emerald City than I've ever been. A dense summer rain brings a fog through the streets for the better part of the next two days. I visit the art museum and spend time under an umbrella near the Great Wheel next to the water, biting my lip the whole time, hoping my phone doesn't ping with a voicemail or worried texts from my parents.

I'm not sure whether they'll be angry or just confused. They don't like secrets.

I haven't even had a chance to talk to him about the introduction yet, and I still don't have a clue how I'll make it remotely normal.

It's one thing to kiss, hold hands, and put on these sweet lies in front of rich strangers. Quite another to do it to mom and dad – especially when Kat knows the truth, and made me crack like a walnut the second she gave me her scornful eyes.

The evening before dinner, I'm moping next to the window at his condo, waiting for my Chinese takeout to arrive. My phone vibrates next to me, and I hold my breath as I flick the button to see the screen.

Cal: Coming home early, doll. Show me what you're wearing tomorrow. I'd go with something sleek and sexy, considering the occasion.

Ridiculous. It's the first time I've heard from him in days, and a laughable what are you wearing text is what I get? I wouldn't have gotten it quicker on Tinder.

Maddie: I don't know. Seems like I'm engaged to a ghost. And I don't know if I believe in them.

Cal: Stop fucking around.

Cal: Ghosts don't make their fake fiancées wet. You're also the only one I'll ever imagine moaning.

His last text sends a vicious adrenaline shot through my heart before I even see what's attached. It's a pic of Cal, sitting at his desk in his best selfie pose, half the buttons on his shirt unclasped, revealing a hint of the dark tattoos framing his chest. It hangs open too far to be considered business casual.

Even from the screen, his blue eyes pierce me, and the wild, tempting smirk on his lips settles like a drug. I cross my legs a couple times, resisting the damp heat pooling near my thighs, outrageous as it is uncontrollable.

Unfortunately, this marvelous bastard has a divine gift for doing everything he threatens, and more.

I slam my phone against the chair's armrest with a huff, wondering how I'll ever snap out of it before he shows up tonight. I'm already starting to miss the days when he was no more than a mysterious afterthought. My fingers punch the screen and I chew my lips, tapping a quick response, hopefully my last before I plot my escape.

Maddie: You're crazy if you think we're playing games.

Then my phone pings again. I resist the urge to look for all of thirty seconds, before I snatch it in my palm, defusing a hateful smile.

Cal: Doll, I'm serious. Play dress up for me before I'm home in the next hour, or I'll drag you down the hall and consider showing you games are the last thing on my mind.

I don't know what's gotten into him.

I don't care.

All that's certain is, I wait about five more minutes without replying before I stand up, stuff my phone into my purse, and retreat to my bedroom. That's where I crash for a nap to shake this wicked flame he's sparked in my pussy, but not before I peel off my old outfit, and slip into the jade green evening dress, black heels with gold bow-ties, and matching gold necklace with ruby tips I still don't feel grown up enough to wear.

I can't believe what I'm doing for this impossible man.

Maybe it's because this is the first fun I've had since this started, without being intimidated by the ferocious spark between us.

Fine. I'll give his push just enough pull to stay on his good side.

For now.

* * *

“Evening, doll. You're lovely when you sleep, but I think I prefer you bright-eyed and bushy tailed.” He wakes me with a kiss.

In my half-conscious state, it's easy to indulge the Snow White fantasies I've had since I was a little girl, being brought to life again by the handsome, noble prince. But the rest of my brain switches on, and I remember who he really is.

I jerk up, pushing him away, instantly angry as I see the amusement twinkling in his eyes. “Jesus, don't you ever knock?”

“Why should a man knock when it's his place?”

“Nice. I'm lucky you're so respectful of a woman's privacy, jerk.”

His smirk turns into a full grin, and he comes closer, sitting next to me at the edge of my bed. “And I'm very fortunate you never learned how to swear like an adult. Stand the fuck up.”

Annoyed, I obey. I think I set a new record for the time it takes to feel familiar fire in my cheeks. My blood goes from lukewarm to molten in less than ten seconds, about the time it takes for him to put his hands on my waist, and slowly maneuver them to my hips, where he stops and cups my rear through the silky fabric.

“Ass out. Legs apart.” He pauses, moving his hands lower. When he slides several stiff fingers between my thighs and eases my legs apart, I whimper, holding in a harsh breath. “Good girl.”

“Excuse me?” I'm stunned. He says nothing.

Okay, a woman can put up with a lot, but he's just hit my limit. Whirling around, I shove his hands off me, freeing myself from his invasive and horribly sexy grasp.

“Last I checked, you're my fiancé, Cal. Not my personal valet. I'm old enough to dress myself. I've given you more than I ever should've, now get out of my room!” I hold out a finger, pointing to the door.

Still wearing the same awful smile, he stands, grabs my wrist, and brings it to his lips. “Maddie, you're trembling. We've got to get better at this. I need you to touch me without looking like you're about to either keel over or drown in your own lust if we're going to close the deal.”

“Deal? What deal?”

“Us,” he growls in my ear, making sure I'm able to feel his heat. Goosebumps line my neck, every sensitive inch of my flesh rising to meet their unwanted master. “The dress works. You'll be a knockout tomorrow. My fucking knockout, and only mine.”

No matter how many times his fingers glide across my body, they still make me jump. I fall back against him, deeper into his grip. My ass brushes his hard-on, tenting through his trousers, leaving no doubt whatsoever what he wants behind the sarcasm, the teasing, the thrill he gets drowning my panties in a heat I can't cool.

Yep, it's bad, I think to myself, as soon as I see us in the mirror, his face hovering over my shoulder, brilliant blue eyes pointed at my cleavage. From ice cube to hot mess, just like that. And I don't even know how to do it in reverse.

I'm worried this pretender freak knows how to push buttons on my own body I didn't know were there. When I try to pull away, ever so slightly, my knees moving like quicksand, he curls a big arm around my waist and pulls me backward, into his throbbing erection.

When I feel it, I gasp. He growls, low like thunder, an animal glint in his eye.

“Cal...” I whisper, running my tongue on my lips, too afraid to say the rest for several seconds. Oh, and if only I could keep it in. “What are you doing? I thought we weren't...weren't supposed to...holy hell.”

It falls out when his free hand snakes up my side, rolling my nipple. One simple motion, no more than several seconds, and somehow able to make my thighs shake on command.

“Of course I want to, doll. Hell, I'd love nothing better than to throw you down face first, shred the dress you're supposed to be wearing for my rich friends tomorrow night, and fuck you like I should've years ago.”

Oh. My. God.

I don't realize how rough I'm breathing until his hard-on grazes me again. That's when I moan, and the soft sound moving through my body resonates in my lungs, which can't produce more than a couple shallow breaths every few seconds.

Not when this want, this need, this confusing, relentless urge keeps calling me to do the worst with him, consequences be damned.

But he isn't done toying with me yet. My fingers go to his huge tattooed wrist, digging into the black rose inked on his skin. It's make believe thorns could prick me, and still I wouldn't care, falling deeper and deeper into this wall of muscle and divine, masculine scent surrounding me, cut me off from my own better judgment.

“Obviously, we can't really do this, Maddie.” And just like that, he untangles himself, and walks away, heading for the door. He acts like nothing happened when he stops, adjusting his collar, looking at me as if we're almost about to head out for a night on the town instead of rip each other's clothes off. “It's wrong, you know. You could never handle it.”

He can't be serious. I'm speechless, jamming my thumb into my chest. “What? Me?”

“You're too good for casual. Some things never change. If you could open your legs, enjoy the dozen Os I fuck into you tonight, and then wake up tomorrow like it never happened, we'd be on, so on, in just a heartbeat. But I'd have better luck asking for my asshole father to have a magic change of heart tomorrow morning, making this whole thing pointless. Sorry, my mistake. I won't be teasing you again.”

There's no time to answer, to quip back, to drop the nice girl act stamped into me since I was raised by a woman who directed the Sunday choir at our church, and curse Calvin Randolph to the darkest F'd up parts of hell.

Because by the time I'm able to move my tongue without tasting the foul taste he's left in my mouth, he's already gone. I'm left in front of the tall mirror, looking like a fool, wondering how hard I'll lie tomorrow to make sure everybody doesn't see the brutal truth written on my face.

I'm starting to hate this man.

He saved me once, but he's no hero. He's a pushy, screwed up, arrogant alpha-hole joke who takes every liberty I never agreed to when I came running back to the States to bail him out. I knew I should have amended that stupid contract to say no teasing allowed.

I won't even mention the complete lack of gratitude.

As soon as my ninety days are up, I'll be out of here on the first flight to Asia, without caring whether or not Sterner has more work lined up for me or not. Or faster, if I can't hold the urge to slap him across his callous face. I can't share the same continent with this reckless idiot who loves winding me up for amusement.

The sad part is, if he'd just drop the pretenses and apologize, or at least open up, then I might be able to forgive the teasing, the wit, the frantic push to places that aren't even on the same map as any of my comfort zones.

I might remember the horror he's lived for the ten thousandth time, and forget his wild infractions.

I might be able to wrap my head around his heart, and figure out where it comes from.

I might stop the hate sprouting like a bad seed in my heart, nourished by the desire, the disdain, and the incredible, conflicted emotions he stirs up like a tsunami.

And yes, I might be able to deal with the sick, sick feelings for him I've been ignoring since the second I got here. Everything he preys upon, and everything guaranteed to be my undoing if I ever loosen up, let them out, and come to terms with my seven year attraction to this unfathomable creature.

When he texted me earlier and touched off the latest round of crap, he was right.

Ghosts can't make me wet.

Demons, on the other hand, have uncanny powers. And there's no way Cal's demented hold over me is anything less than pure evil.