MISCHA WAS USED TO waking up in an empty bed, but something about having Ash there was comfortable. It was enough to obliterate any of the teasing daydreams he’d entertained, and replace them with reality. The faint scent of strawberries in her shampoo, her body pressed against him, and the soft sighs she made when he kissed along the back of her neck.

When he glided his fingers along her hip, and then lower, she shifted, grinding her ass against his erection, and giving him easy access to slide between her legs.

It only took a little teasing, light caresses along her skin, before she was wet. He slipped between her folds, earning him a sigh.

He adjusted her enough to slide inside, stroking her clit in time with the thrust of her hips. The way she clenched around his cock, along with her soft cries, told him when she came. That, combined with the grinding, pushed him over the edge a moment later, and he spilled inside her.

It was fast and playful, and something he wouldn’t mind waking up to more often. He rested his forehead against her bare back. “Good morning,” he mumbled into her skin.

“Hmm... Definitely is.”

Something occurred to him. “Fuck.”

“Not a good sound. Not when you say it like that.” The pout was clear in her tone.

“Forgot a condom.”

He expected her to go stiff against him. Freak out, or at least get upset. It didn’t reassure him when she said, “It’ll be fine.”

“It may not be.”

“Birth control. And you’re clean, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t forget again.” Warning mixed with sweetness as she snuggled against him.

Again. He liked the idea of making a habit out of this. Maybe he shouldn’t fall into it so easily, given the deadline on their relationship. “We should get up.”

“All right.” She sounded as reluctant as he felt.

She left for her own room, and he got ready for the day. When he got downstairs, Kelly was sitting at the breakfast bar, eating dry cereal from a box.

“You’re out of milk,” she said. “And coffee creamer sucks with Cocoa Puffs.”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t keep a lot of food around the house.” He didn’t think about that before.

“I noticed.”

“Trust me, it’s safer this way. I’d say I’m a mean cook, but you’d have to take that literally. I can murder canned soup.”

“Lucky for you, I can prepare feasts with canned soup.” Ash’s comment startled him.

He spun to see her standing in the doorway, hair pulled back, and looking as enticing as anyone had the right to in an over-sized shirt, and jeans.

“Grocery shopping it is,” he said.

“Oh. I almost forgot.” Kelly’s tone implied she hadn’t. “Some weirdo saw my Insta post and emailed me asking if he could buy my new board.”

Ash frowned. “What did you tell him?”

“Fuck no.”

“Kelly.” Ash scowled.

“What? I did. It’s mine. Besides, he only offered me two-hundred for it. I might have been polite if he gave me a real number. But the answer still would have been no.”

The rest of Sunday passed without event, aside from assuring Ash he didn’t mind buying whatever she put in the cart. At the end of the day, it only took a tug to get her to join him in his room for another round of getting to know you.

Monday morning, he drove them to work. It felt natural to take her hand as they walked into the office. Logic tried to say it’s just for show, but that didn’t stop him from enjoying the simple touch.

He had her fill out new-hire paperwork, gave her the five minute orientation—everyone does their job, if you see something that needs to be done and isn’t, tell us and we’ll probably ask you to do it—and let her get to work.

After that, he made his way to Tristan’s office to talk about a few new properties. Mischa was glad Tristan would take point on sales for these. He’d lock himself in his office and design and be happy with that.

It was almost noon when Tristan’s phone rang. He hit the Speaker button. “Yeah?”

“Is Mischa in there?” It was Rachel, their assistant and receptionist.

“I’m here.”

“There’s a Victoria Small here to see you,” Rachel said.

Mischa exchanged glances with Tristan, who looked as surprised by the name as he was. He hadn’t seen Victoria in years, and he was good with that. When they’d dated, she was a no-longer-teenage actress whose career was built on movies for teens, and she was struggling to break the bad girl image.

For her, Mischa was the perfect way to do that. For him, he liked the no-expectations and live-for-the-moment aspects of the relationship. Until she fell into addiction. He stayed by her side through recovery and the depression that came after.

Mischa stood. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“She says to tell you she’s here for both of you,” Rachel said.

Tristan raised an eyebrow. “Would you show her back?”

A moment later, Victoria stood in his office doorway. Objectively, she looked as stunning as ever. Olive complexion. Dark, straight hair. Eyes that could melt a person or bore holes into their soul, and full, burgundy lips.

The desire she used to send shooting through him was gone.

Mischa gestured to the empty chair next to him. “Have a seat.”

He wasn’t interested in small talk. He might be more polite if she’d made an appointment, but odds were slim.

“Vicky. What can we do for you?” Tristan was the only person who got away with calling her that. Once the relationship turned toxic, he didn’t hide his disdain for it.

Mischa’s relationship with Victoria was serious to the point of discussing marriage. Until her depression veered to the right. She threatened his friends and family if he left her. Twisting him up in knots over how to care for her and not destroy the rest of his life. When they split, it took him a long time to reconcile that he didn’t abandon her.

According to the media since then, it was a good decision for her, too. He took their word for it.

She didn’t move from her spot at the door. “I have a business proposal for both of you. I’d like to take you to lunch and sell you on why you should support ASK.”

“Away from keyboard?” Mischa asked.

“ASK. After School Kids. It’s the charity I represent.”

Tristan made a tsk sound with his tongue. “We’ll write a check. You could have called for that.”

“This is a best-done-in-person request. And wining and dining won’t hurt. Besides, I saw Mischa is engaged, and I wanted to congratulate you.” She looked at him, nothing but sweetness in her expression. “I’d love to meet the lucky girl.”

Mischa matched her pleasant mask. “I’ll introduce you now if you’d like. She’s at her desk.”

Victoria’s smile slipped for a blink, but was back in place again so quickly Mischa wasn’t sure he registered it. “I’d love to. In fact, she should go with us.”

“We haven’t said yes.” Tristan’s tone was flat.

Victoria chuckled. “That’s why she needs to go with us. I’m assuming she’ll have more sympathy for the cause, mostly because she doesn’t have a pre-formed opinion about me, and she’ll help me change your minds when you turn down my offer.”

“I’ll tell you no, now. What are we talking about?” Tristan asked.

“Charity. For the kids.” At least she had that part of her pitch down. “The rest waits until you’re fed and in a better mood.”

Mischa wasn’t interested in spending the afternoon with his ex, but he also didn’t like the idea of turning away a worthwhile cause. “All right. I’ll introduce you to Ash, and then we’ll go, and hear you out.”

*

ASH DIDN’T KNOW THE last time she had such a carefree weekend. She worked through her Monday morning with a silly smile on her face, because every time her thoughts drifted, she thought of Mischa. Everything was so simple with him. And the sex... The memory was enough to tingle in her belly and throb between her legs.

She probably shouldn’t be getting hooked, but he was an easy habit to fall into.

Then he introduced her to his ex-girlfriend.

Of course Mischa had dated someone like Victoria Small. Grace and exoticism personified, teen star, type-cast mean girl extraordinaire, and just as pretty and intimidating in person as on screen.

And they were all going to lunch. Ash, Victoria, Mischa, and Tristan. Wonderful. Not. Ash was raised on phony smiles and not making her father look bad in front of associates. She could survive an afternoon with the sexy-as-hell woman her fake-fiancé used to date.

Ash didn’t flinch when they were shown to their table in the high-end steak house. It didn’t matter that she was underdressed compared to the men and women wearing suits that cost more than her rent last month. Her upbringing reinforced it was all about poise around these people.

The knowledge didn’t quiet the uncomfortable gnawing inside, but keeping her hand tucked inside Mischa’s did.

The four of them made small talk until the food arrived, Victoria redirecting the conversation anytime one of the men tried to bring up her reason for being here.

As the meal wound down, Victoria reached into the leather briefcase she had with her, extracted two tri-fold brochures, and handed them to Mischa and Tristan. “ASK is working toward a new community center for after school and similar programs. As you’ve already guessed, I’m soliciting local businesses for donations. If it’s a selling point, the dollar amount determines how we feature your organization on the building, but a lot of people we’ve spoken with are just happy to help.”

It was a smooth pitch. Ash wasn’t surprised. She was familiar with the organization, though and it was also a good cause.

“Great. Do we get a plaque or something? Happy to sign a check.” Tristan sounded bored.

Ash didn’t care for the attitude, but after watching him interact with Victoria, she hoped it was more about the representative than the cause.

“We’re happy to contribute. You could have guessed that. A call would have sufficed.” Mischa was more polite, but his tone was still strained.

“It probably would have for a check. But I wanted to see you.” Her voice softened, and she bit her bottom lip.

“Are you... flirting?” Tristan asked, disbelief in his voice. “His fiancée is sitting right here.”

Ash gave her a tight-lipped smile and a wave. When Victoria’s gaze drifted to the inside of her wrist, Ash dropped her hand into her lap quickly. There was no way Victoria saw the scars, but that didn’t stop Ash from feeling self-conscious. And possessive. Relief whispered through her when Mischa found her hand without question.

“You said for a check.” Mischa’s good-natured tone had vanished. “Are you looking for a donation that’s not cash?”

“You really ruin the flow of a girl’s pitch. I should have expected that.” She clicked her nails on the table. She was stalling. Nervous.

Ash hid a smile.

“What are you here for?” Tristan asked.

She met his gaze. “One of your buildings.”

Ash would have choked on her drink if she’d been taking one, and she wasn’t the person being propositioned.

Tristan snorted. “No.”

Victoria was gutsy, rude, and entirely too much like the characters she used to portray. Did Mischa really go for women like that? Or maybe Ash was being judgmental and possessive.

She didn’t realize she’d gripped his hand tighter until he squeezed back. She glanced at him and received a smile in return. It was comforting, but it didn’t silence the voice that started nagging in the back of her head, reminding her this wasn’t a real relationship.

But the weekend they shared... There was a spark, wasn’t there? That was the kind of thing a person didn’t fake? She hated the self-doubt swelling inside, and refused to let it peek through. Not here. Not now.

“Before you answer, let me finish my pitch,” Victoria said, despite Tristan’s refusal. “The building will bear your name. Front and center. Other contributors will see your work. Free advertising. Tax deductible. You’re welcome to come in every few years after, as you see fit, and update the look of the place.”

“Really.” Sarcasm leaked into Tristan’s voice. “You’ll let us donate a multi-million-dollar building, and do us the favor of letting us remodel it on a regular basis. You drive a hard deal.”

“Did I remember to mention the bit about the donation being tax deductible?”

Mischa shook his head. “We’re not interested at this time. We have your information, and you’ll be getting our donation once we’ve discussed an amount.” He took the bill from the waiter before Victoria could, placed his card in, and handed it back to the waiter. “Unless there’s anything else we can do for you?”

She looked at Mischa, gaze softening. “Think about it?”

He shook his head. “It’s not viable. We support the cause, but a building?”

“Then that’s that. I’ve said my piece.” Victoria maintained her cool façade, but a faint furrow marred her brow.

They finished lunch, and headed outside, to Mischa’s SUV. He held the front door open for Ash, meaning Tristan had to sit in back next to Victoria. She wondered which of them that irritated more.

They reached the office, and Victoria broke away to head to her car. They’d only gone a few steps toward the building when she said, “Mischa, do you have a minute?”

He gave Ash a quick kiss, and her heart skipped. It wasn’t enough to stop her from walking at a snail’s pace toward the door.

“You still have an infatuation with pretty broken things?” Victoria’s soft words hit her back, and her stomach flipped in on itself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mischa’s retort was gravel-lined, with an irritation Ash hadn’t heard from him.

She used that and the kiss to cover the sting of Victoria’s words, and headed back to her desk. She couldn’t forget what she’d heard, though.

Pretty broken things. The phrase echoed in her head until it became a dull roar.

“Join me in my office?” Mischa rested a hand on her shoulder.

She jumped, startled out from her thoughts. She pasted on a grin and whirled to face him. “Sure.” That sounded casual, didn’t it?

She shoved aside insecurities fed by old scars. Victoria was an ex for a reason. Besides, it wasn’t as if Ash and Mischa had a real relationship. The notion bubbled in her gut, and she swallowed it, as she followed Mischa.

Where the rest of the building was smooth, functional, and flowing, his corner of things was colorful. An abstract mural covered one wall, and photos punctuated the books on his shelves.

He closed the door, but didn’t sit. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do or say, so she hovered near the door. “Don’t listen to Victoria. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” he said.

Ash tried to smile, but didn’t manage. “It’s fine.”

“You convinced me.” He winked, a hint of teasing in his voice. “She’s projecting.”

“How so?” Probably a not the smartest thing she could ask. It meant Victoria saw herself as a pretty-broken thing too. Ash couldn’t help her curiosity and desire for details.

He tugged her to his side of the desk as he sat, and gripped the fingers where they poked out from her cast. He looked up at her. “Victoria and me together... We redefined toxic in some pretty severe ways.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad.” The words came out with more force than she intended, making them sound false. She hated the part of herself that hoped it was that bad, so there was no temptation for him to restart that relationship.

“In a lot of ways, she’s exactly your opposite.”

Ash smiled through the pit growing in her gut. “How so?”

“She radiated reckless and irresponsible. When we were together, there was no one but us, and no consequences.”

“That sounds like the kind of fairy tale passion most people would give up limbs for.” Ash struggled to keep her tone neutral.

He shook his head, a shadow of pain crossing his face. “Because they haven’t lived it. I didn’t mind at the time. I’d been through years of competing and endorsements that required I be and act a certain way. So had she. We discarded all of that.”

If this was meant to make her feel better, it wasn’t working. She kept her mouth clamped shut, afraid of saying the wrong thing.

“This is coming out wrong.” Mischa’s chuckle was strained. “I don’t want to romanticize it. I stopped caring about anything that didn’t feel intense. Not like the adrenaline rush of grinding a rail ten feet up with no pads. I mean dangerously, painfully intense. And it was always painful.

“If she didn’t want to see friends—hers or mine—I cut them out of our lives, then sustained myself on the loathing of pushing away people I cared about. If she crashed hard after a high, I’d wrap her up until I shook instead of her. When she was suicidal, I sapped her pain until she could think again. Whatever it took to make things right, I absorbed it until I couldn’t breathe.”

Ash knew the not-breathing feeling. Hers lodged in her chest, attached to the dark spots in her life that sounded too similar to Victoria’s. She’d never been much for a chemical high, but the depression. The cutting. She’d hit some serious lows in her life.

Mischa exhaled, as if trying to force out the past. “I’m not telling you this for any sort of pity or out of self-loathing or to make myself a martyr. It was what it was, until I left. I hated myself for walking away. When she’d text me, and threaten to kill herself if I didn’t come back, I sent someone to check on her, but I never replied. I cut all ties, and blamed myself for months and longer.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” The words squeaked out, and Ash licked her lips, trying to bring moisture back to a suddenly dry mouth.

“In a way it was. I made it all right, and in a twisted way, I felt like a good guy for being the person who stayed by her side when she was struggling. Until I didn’t.”

“What about now?”

“As I understand it, she’s climbed out of the pit. You saw her today. Looking back, I can see how unhealthy it was for both of us.”

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.

He shrugged. “It is what it is. We both learned from it. My point is, when she says shit like accusing you of being broken, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Look at how much you’d done with what you have. You’re not broken, you’re a survivor.”

Except that Ash was one weight away from falling into what Victoria did. That fear always loomed. That the next crisis would push her over the edge, into a pit that was sometimes too tempting to fall into. She wasn’t going to tell Mischa that, though. No reason to make him think she was a liability.

He kissed the tips of her fingers one at a time. “I didn’t mean to drag the dark cloud in. I wanted you to know whatever she does or says, it doesn’t reflect on me or you.”

“I get it.” She forced the heaviness from her words. Damn insecurities. But there was no way she was letting him see how close she was to being a broken thing.

“Good. Now that we’ve got that settled.” He pulled a Sharpie from the inside pocket of his suit coat. “I can’t believe no one’s signed your cast yet.”

She wasn’t going to call him on the change of subject. Despite her demons, she recognized how much he’d just opened up. It was a trust she wouldn’t break. But she didn’t want to linger in the dark any more than he did. “You might not have noticed, but I haven’t been out a lot since it happened.”

“It needs something. It’s so... blank. May I?”

She nodded. “When it comes off, I can treasure it the way Kelly does her old skateboard.”

Mischa chuckled, and popped the cap on the pen. He bent over her arm, blocking her view. “No peeking.”

“Fine.” She sighed with fake exasperation, leaning her weight and good arm against the desk, and looking up. Seconds ticked past, and he didn’t release her. “How long does it take to sign your name?”

“You’ll see.” The way he held her arm, it didn’t jar her, and he moved as he worked, rather than adjusting her. A few minutes later, he pulled away. “Ta-da.”

She looked down, and awe spilled through her at what she saw. Swirls and feathers wrapped along her arm from a pair of wings, protruding from human shoulder blades. She would have guessed it was an angel, but the person wore a pair of horns instead of a halo. “It’s gorgeous.”

“It’s a doodle.” He traced his thumb over the part of her fingers that were exposed. “I didn’t scare you away with my dark past, did I?”

She was surprised at the hint of uncertainty. It didn’t match the image of Mischa she’d built in her head, but adding it in didn’t diminish what she thought of him.

With him standing that close, heat caressing her thighs through her jeans, she had a hard time focusing on anything else. Fortunately, it was an easy question. “No. I’m good where I am.”

“Good.” He leaned back in his seat, not letting go of her. The way he trailed his gaze up her body to land on her face sent enticing sparks dancing over her.

She liked this. The playfulness. The connection that flowed between them every time skin met skin, even with a simple touch like holding hands. It was going to suck when it came to an end, but for now, she was going to enjoy the hell out of him.