I stared stubbornly at my phone as I sipped a huge glass of red wine. “No.”

My grandfather sighed loudly, causing the speakerphone to crackle. “For once put your pride aside and let me help you. Or do you want to move out of that apartment you love so much?”

No, I did not. I’d worked my butt off to be able to afford to rent a place like my one-bedroom condo in Back Bay. It was beautiful with its high ceilings and tall windows that looked down onto the tree lined street. I loved the location. I was a twenty-minute walk from my favorite part of the city—the Public Garden, Newbury Street, Charles Street … Location was everything, but the fact that my apartment was cute and homey was icing on a very nice cake. It was the kind of place I’d always wanted, and I had hoped that someday I’d have saved enough for a deposit to buy the apartment or one in the same neighborhood.

Material goods didn’t mean a damn thing. I knew that. But I just really needed my pretty apartment right now. It was a comfort thing.

Did I need it enough to sell my principles?

Unfortunately no.

“I’m not taking your money, Grandpa.” I knew it wasn’t Edward Holland’s fault, but the diamond fortune he’d inherited from his family and gone on to expand with wise investments that diversified his business portfolio was the very thing that had polluted my father. I didn’t want anywhere near something so toxic.

“Then I’ll have a word with Benito.”

I thought about the fact that my grandfather had kept his relationship with me secret from the rest of his family. No one outside the family knew that Alexa Holland was a Holland—my dad had managed to keep the indiscretion with my mother that led to my birth from his family, excluding his father—and Grandpa certainly hadn’t confessed to them that he’d reached out to me when I was twenty-one and all alone in Boston.

I understood that it would have caused drama and irritation for him to reveal the truth, but I couldn’t say it didn’t hurt. Sometimes it felt like he was ashamed of me. Like it or not, though, he was all I had now and I loved him.

I bit down my resentment. “You can’t,” I said. “Benito has a big mouth. He’ll tell everyone who I am.”

“So, what, then? You find another job … Doing what?”

Any other job would come with a major pay cut. As an executive PA to a successful photographer, I made a nice income. More than twice that of standard PA positions. I sipped at my wine, looking around at all my pretty things in my pretty home.

“I didn’t even get to apologize,” I muttered.

“What?”

“I didn’t even get to apologize,” I repeated. “He blew up in my face and then ruined my life.” I groaned. “Don’t even say it. I recognize the irony in that. My family ruined his … tit for tat.”

Grandpa cleared his throat. “You didn’t ruin his life. But you did take him off guard.”

Guilt suffused me. “True.”

“And I already told you my attempts in the past have failed. It isn’t our place to apologize.”

“I know that.” I did know that. I wasn’t disappointed, because I couldn’t apologize for my father’s sins. I was disappointed because in that moment, when Caine realized who I was, I saw a pain in his eyes that was so familiar to me. Seeing the pain that was clearly still raw for him, I felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of kinship with him. We were both part of a tragic legacy. I’d never been able to talk about it with anyone because of the secrecy of it all. For years I’d been left to bear the burden of the truth all by myself. Then three months ago my mom died and all the ugly shit came crawling to the surface, and during a tirade on the phone to my grandpa he’d finally let slip the name of the child who had been wronged.

Caine Carraway. The only other person besides my parents and grandfather who knew the truth. The only other person who could possibly understand.

I couldn’t explain the connection I felt to him. I just knew that it was possible I was the only person who could understand his pain, and … I found I wanted to be there for him somehow. It didn’t make sense. I barely knew him. I knew that. But I couldn’t help feeling it all the same.

It was gut-wrenching then to have him look at me like I was part of the problem. Like … I was to blame. I hated the idea that he could think that of me, and I didn’t want that to be the last time we ever spoke. I didn’t want to be part of a bad memory. “I should go over there and apologize for ambushing him. While I’m there I could ask him to fix this. One call to Benito and he can make this go away.”

“Alexa, I don’t think that’s wise.”

Maybe not. But I was desperate for my job back and to change Caine’s opinion of me. “Ever since Mom … I just … I need him to hear me out, and I see no harm in asking him to call Benito while I’m there.”

“That sounds an awful lot like what you need and not what he needs.”

I shoved that truth aside and rationalized, “Have you met Caine Carraway? I don’t think that man knows what he needs.”

The receptionist was staring at me as if I was ridiculous.

“You want to see Mr. Carraway of Carraway Financial Holdings without an appointment?”

I knew it wouldn’t be easy to walk into the huge rose-granite-walled building on International Place and expect to be escorted directly to Caine’s office. Still, the receptionist was treating it as if I were asking to see the president. “Yes.” I curbed my natural instinct to return her question with sarcasm. She didn’t look like she’d respond well to that.

She sighed. “One moment, please.”

I glanced over at the security guard who was manning the metal detectors situated before the elevators. Carraway Financial Holdings shared the building with another company, which meant there were security cameras everywhere. No matter what I tried to pull here, I was going to get caught. It was all just a matter of timing. I was okay with getting caught … as long it was after I got in to see Caine.

I sidled away from the reception desk while the pinchy-mouthed receptionist lady frowned at her nails. While her focus was elsewhere I smoothed on a fake look of nonchalance and began to walk toward the detectors.

“ID.” The security guard held out a hand to stop me from going any farther.

I stared up into his bearded face and noted the alertness in his eyes. Damn my luck. I couldn’t get a clichéd, unobservant security guy?

I smiled innocently. “The lady at reception told me they’ve run out of visitor ID passes. She told me to go on up.”

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

I gestured to her. “Ask her.”

He huffed and looked over at reception. I realized right away he was going to yell the question at her so he didn’t have to move from his post.

It was my only opportunity.

I skittered past him and rushed through the detectors and heard him shout just as I was hurrying into the elevator that would take me to Caine’s floor. The doors shut as the security guard’s foot came into view.

“You’ve lost it,” I murmured to myself as the elevator climbed. “You’ve actually finally lost it. You should have taken the therapy when it was offered.”

I heard a snort from my right. I was sharing the elevator with a guy who grinned at me as if I was hilarious. “It doesn’t work for some people,” he said.

I was confused. “What?”

“Therapy,” he explained. “Works for some, not for others.”

I took in his sharp suit and expensive watch. He was good-looking with perfect light brown hair and vibrant blue eyes, and I could tell with just one look that along with the designer suit he wore designer confidence. He was also vaguely familiar. “Did it work for you?”

He shrugged, his grin wicked. “My therapist worked for me.”

I laughed. “Well, at least you got something out of it.”

His smile widened and he nodded at the elevator buttons. “Carraway Financial Holdings?”

I nodded and my stomach flipped nervously at the thought of seeing him again. “I need to speak to the CEO.”

“Caine?” The guy’s eyebrows rose before his gaze roamed over me. “Should I tackle you and let security have you?”

“Mr. Carraway would probably prefer that, but he needs to let me have my say.”

“Uh … who are you?”

I shot him a wary look. “Um … who are you?”

“A friend. I’m supposed to have lunch with him.”

The elevator doors pinged open. “When I have it I’ll give you my firstborn if you let me cut into the first five minutes of that.”

He stepped out and I followed him. His gaze was appraising.

I waited, my eyes darting nervously to the receptionist, who looked awfully concerned by my sudden appearance.

“I’ll tell you what.” Elevator Guy drew my attention back to him, amusement lacing his words. “The detectors didn’t go off, and it’s clear you’re not carrying a weapon.” He gestured to my tailored shorts and tank top. “So I’m going to take you in to see Caine. But”—he cut me off before I could give him my relieved thanks—“I get to accompany you. I’m curious to hear how Caine knows someone like you.” He put his hand lightly on my lower back and started guiding me toward reception.

I wrinkled my nose, not sure if I’d just been insulted or complimented. “Someone like me?”

“Mr. Lexington.” The receptionist shot up from his chair, his voice high with panic. “I believe that woman just dodged security.”

“It’s fine, Dean.” The guy, who I now recognized from the society pages as Henry Lexington, the son of Randall Lexington, one of Caine’s business partners, waved away the receptionist’s concerns. “Let Caine know we’re on our way.”

Bemused, I let Lexington lead me down a corridor of offices. Near the end of the hallway, the space opened out and a glass desk as stylish as the reception desk we’d previously passed was positioned aside two large double doors. A brass plaque on the door declared that the room beyond belonged to Caine Carraway, CEO.

There were no windows into the office on this side, affording Caine complete privacy.

The young man I’d seen at the photo shoot stood up from behind the glass desk as we approached. His eyes darted to me and then widened with recognition. “Uh, Mr. Lexington—”

“I’m expected.” Lexington threw him a debonair smile that definitely worked for him and reached for the door.

“But—”

The PA was cut off as Lexington led me inside Caine’s huge office. While there were no windows behind us, there was a wall of them opposite us and along the right side of the office. Light streamed into the modern but sparsely decorated space.

I barely took anything in, however, because my gaze zeroed in on Caine.

He looked equal parts enraged and baffled by my presence as he shot to his feet from behind a huge antique desk.

There was another dip in my belly, this one a little lower than the last. Although I’d already witnessed it, the power of his presence continued to surprise me.

“Henry, what the fuck?”

Lexington’s eyebrows rose considerably at Caine’s reaction to my appearance. He looked down at me and smirked. “Seriously, who are you?”

“Get out.”

Both our heads whipped back in Caine’s direction.

Of course he was talking to me.

“No.” I took a step toward him despite the menace emanating from him. “We need to talk.” The muscle in his jaw flexed at my refusal to be cowed.

Inwardly I was pretty cowed, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I’m busy.”

“Mr. Lexington here was kind enough to offer me five minutes of his lunch appointment with you.”

Caine shot him a furious look. “Did he?”

Henry smiled. “I’m a gentleman that way.”

“Henry, get out,” Caine said, the words quiet but forceful.

“Well, I made—”

“Now.”

Clearly Henry knew something I didn’t, because unlike me he didn’t appear at all afraid of Caine. “Of course.” He chuckled and then winked at me in a way that worked for him even more than the debonair smile. “Good luck.”

I waited until the door had closed behind Henry before I took in a deep breath and braced myself to interact with Caine. I noted his eyes flickered up quickly from my legs to my face.

I shivered under that Prince of Darkness stare of his.

“In two seconds you’ll be following him out of the door.”

You can do this. Make him hear you, Lex. “Throw me out and I will come back quicker than a boomerang.”

“I daresay a boomerang won’t fare too well against a locked door, Miss Holland.”

“Lock the door and I’ll find other, more creative ways to torment you. I have nothing left to lose at this point.”

Caine heaved an irritated sigh. “You have one minute. Use it wisely.”

God, he really was an arrogant SOB. I pushed down my irritation, reminding myself who he was and what he’d been through. “Two things. First, I lost my job.”

His response to that was to shrug and relax against his desk. He crossed his arms over his chest and then one ankle over the other and hit me with an insouciant “So?”

“So … it’s because of what happened at the shoot.”

“Then I suggest you act more professionally in the future. Now I have lunch to attend to …” He gestured to the door.

“Look.” I held up my hands in something akin to surrender. “I apologize. That’s the second thing. I apologize sincerely—”

“Fucking say it and I will throw you out,” he warned.

“For ambushing you,” I hurried to finish.

He relaxed only somewhat.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I had no idea we were doing a photo shoot with you. I showed up on-set and you were there and I’m in a weird place and I acted emotionally and it was really unfair to you.”

Caine merely blinked at my rambling.

“So I’m sorry,” I finished.

“Fine.” He stood up, his eyes moving over my shoulder, not concealing his impatience.

I took that “fine” as an acceptance of my apology and forged ahead again. “But the punishment doesn’t fit the crime.”

I was treated to another heavy sigh from him. “Tell me again why I should care if the daughter of the man who gave my mother the cocaine that killed her no longer has a job.”

I flinched. “My father’s actions were not mine.”

“Same blood runs in your veins.”

Any hope I had of battling my irritation with his arrogance went flying out the window. “Oh? Cocaine addict, are you?”

I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth.

“Get out.” The words were said with barely leashed fury.

“Okay, okay,” I hurried to defuse that land mine. “That was a shitty thing to say. I’m really sorry. But you’re presuming to know who I am because of who my father is, and that’s shitty too.”

There was no response.

Cautiously I took a step toward the brooding businessman. “Look, you didn’t just get me fired. My boss lost Mogul and two other clients because of your ire. That means my boss blacklisted me. I won’t get another job in the industry again unless you fix this. Just … let Benito do the shoot. Please.”

A weighted silence fell between us as we stared at each other. I was pretty sure (or at least I hoped) Caine was silent because he was considering my request. The silence, however, just afforded me even more of a chance to soak in his rugged, dark handsomeness. Was it possible he was getting better-looking?

That was a problem for me.

My mom had always been so bowled over by my dad’s looks that she felt inferior to him, like maybe she was the lucky one to be with him and not the other way around. I’d hated that and I didn’t need a therapist to tell me it was the reason that I tended to date guys who were attractive but not so attractive they were intimidating. More important, my ex-boyfriends (and it wasn’t like there were lots of those) all made it clear that they thought they were punching above their weight by dating me. I didn’t look for that because I needed to feel more attractive than my partner. It was because I didn’t want to feel inferior.

Not like Mom had.

Which was why my reaction to Caine was an anomaly. I could admit when a guy was a hot guy. But I was never attracted to hot guys, because I’d hard-wired my brain not to shoot off all the chemicals that would make me attracted to hot guys.

With Caine, though … well, my thoughts had wandered into the indecent since the moment we met (if I was honest, maybe even before then) and I could feel my skin prickling with awareness under his fierce regard.

“No.”

No? “What do you mean no?”

He quirked an eyebrow at me. “It’s one of the most commonly used words in the English language, Miss Holland. Shocking that someone who doesn’t understand its meaning would find herself unemployable.”

I ignored his sarcasm and flipped my hair over my shoulder with what I hoped was an air of defiance. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

Caine’s already dark eyes shadowed with irritation as he said with a threatening calmness, “You’ll take it and you’ll get out before I personally remove you from my office.”

I shivered again at the thought of him putting those big hands of his anywhere near me. I quickly threw that thought aside and replied, “Please be fair.”

The air around him thickened with anger. “Fair?” he said, his voice hoarse. “What part of you being here is fair? I’m going to ask you to leave one more time, and if you don’t I will physically remove you.”

I closed my eyes, unable to see the pain in his without wanting to hurt my own father. Because my father was a weak and irresponsible man, Caine Carraway had lost everything, and despite all the “everything” he had around him now, I wasn’t convinced from what I’d seen so far that he actually had anything. “I’ll go,” I whispered. When I opened my eyes he was staring stonily at me. My stomach sank at the realization that this was it. His opinion of me hadn’t changed, and I was still jobless. “I really am sorry. I just … I’m just stuck.” And I meant that in so many ways. I grabbed the handle on his office door and had started to pull on it when his irritated sigh stopped me.

“I’ll call your boss and tell him to take you back.”

Relief swooshed through me as I whirled to look at him, amazed. “Really?”

He gave me his back. “Yes, but I will change my mind if you don’t get out of my office in the next five seconds.”

I shot out of that office in three seconds flat. I didn’t get everything I came for, which was probably why as I drove home my relief was gradually outweighed by my disappointment. It occurred to me that I wished Caine could see what I saw—that we were the same in some ways. And I didn’t want to be someone he hated.

However, it was clear Caine needed me to leave him alone. And I would. Even if it was the absolute last thing I wanted to do.