Georges hopped from the front seat and hurried to open the door for Marcus as he strutted off the Lear jet toward the waiting limousine, dark sunglasses obstructing the light of the morning sun.

“Good morning, Mr. Williams. I trust you had a pleasant flight,” Georges said.

Marcus eyed the driver, a half-smile on his full mouth as he thought of what he had left behind on the private plane: a half-naked and exhausted air hostess with his name on her lips.

“It was good, yes,” Marcus replied smoothly, slipping onto the cool leather seats where Melissa sat, her mouth pursed into a fine line of concentration. “Thank you for asking. Hello, Missy.”

“Your flight was late,” she said without preamble, annoyance tinging her words as she thrust an itinerary onto his lap. “For the third time this month. This pilot is incompetent.”

“He can’t control the weather, darling,” Marcus reminded her. “You must cut him some slack.”

Melissa vehemently shook her tightly coifed head, and Marcus marveled at the way not one dark strand moved with the motion. “The last one was never late. He got you home from Bogota in a hurricane, remember?”

Marcus’ grin widened, his vivid blue eyes sparkling mischievously. “Some of us are just better in a storm, Missy. Some of us err on the side of caution. Which type are you again?”

As Georges closed the door, he slid across the seat to press his solid form against her thin frame. His assistant’s mouth became a scowl once she realized he was gently mocking her.

If there was one thing Marcus knew, it was that Missy did not appreciate being teased, but he couldn’t resist. She made it so easy with her uptight attitude and humorless smile. He felt as if it was his personal duty to put her at ease. It was the least he could do. After all, she ran his life so efficiently.

“You seem unusually tense today, Missy,” he told her, his strong hands reaching to caress her shoulders. “Let me help you.”

Melissa scowled and shrugged him off, ice in her fierce brown eyes. “This is no time for games, Marcus! You’re late to for your meeting, and you know these guys take these slights very personally. Rodney is still seething from having to smooth things over from your last fiasco!”

Marcus sat back, winking at her.

“I rescheduled that meeting from the plane,” he told her. “You and Rodney can exhale now.”

“You what?” Melissa screeched, throwing up her hands in disgust. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been panicking for the last half an hour!”

Marcus patted her knee, and she sighed heavily.

“It’s so much more fun this way, don’t you think?” he jested, and she grunted in frustration.

“You’re going to be the death of me one day,” she complained, pulling off her reading glasses and falling back against the seat.

“I guess the rest of my day just opened up,” he said smoothly, his hand squeezing her knee.

“What am I going to do with you, Marcus?” Melissa asked in mild exasperation, a tired smile on her face. “I am doing my best to keep your life running without incident. You can’t just keep pulling stuff like this.”

“Why not?” Marcus challenged, turning his body toward her, his eyes boring into hers as he licked his lips. “It keeps things exciting.”

“Marcus…”

“Hmm?” His lips found the curve of her chin, and he gently nibbled on her jawline, his palm inching up her thigh as she slowly relaxed against him. Melissa’s legs parted to allow him access, and Marcus chuckled.

“Isn’t that much nicer?” he asked soothingly as the car slipped onto highway 427 and headed into the downtown core. His mouth closed around the soft skin of her throat, and Melissa sighed, her head falling back to permit him a better spot. Marcus’ hand traveled upward, scooping her tiny buttocks into one meaty palm. Melissa squealed as the movement landed her vertically along the leather, her skirt raising over her slender hips while his mouth met hers.

“Oh, I missed you,” she purred, her hips bucking upward to encourage his hand. “I wish you would take me with you on more of your trips.”

Slowly, Marcus rubbed the soft fabric of her panties, his lips falling to taste the skin of her cheeks. She moaned, and Marcus felt a rush of warmth on his open palm. He smiled to himself.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, pulling away to stare into her face. “That’s better, isn’t it?” He sat up and straightened his burgundy tie, leaving Melissa to stare at him, dumbfounded.

“Why did you stop?” she asked, her voice taking on a whine of complaint. She reached out to pull him back, but Marcus slid his powerful form away, reclaiming his original seat across from her, and reached toward the bar.

“You seem more at ease now,” he replied nonchalantly as he poured two fingers of whiskey into a crystal tumbler. He took a sip and winked at her while she sat up, a slightly dazed look in her eye.

“Marcus!” Melissa moaned. “I haven’t seen you in a week!”

“Then you can wait a few more hours,” he replied, pressing the button to lower the partition. “Georges, take me to the Queen Street apartment,” he instructed.

A look of understanding crossed over Melissa’s face and she nodded, reaching for her tablet without another word.

“Yes, Mr. Williams,” Georges said.

As the limo steered onto the Gardiner Express Way, Marcus turned to watch the impending Toronto skyline, his mind on six different things.

The meeting in Dubai had gone better than he had expected, his deal closing at less than he had bid. Stopping in Misty Woods had been more trying than usual, but his father was known for being difficult. No matter how many hundreds of years passed by, he would never grow accustomed to dealing with the slowly deteriorating old dragon.

But now I am home, and I have the women that need my attention, he thought, watching as Georges exited on Yonge Street and stopped at a red light. There truly is no rest for the wicked.

Idly, Marcus glanced back at Melissa, who seemed enthralled at whatever she was reading on her device. He wondered what she was really thinking. Even after centuries, it seemed bizarre that the women in his life accepted their complacency so freely.

Once upon a time, they were tied to a prince, their hopes likely intertwined with the prospect of marriage, but in the modern day, he could not understand precisely why they so easily fell into line. Perhaps it was still the same mentality.

After all, Marcus was the CEO and president of a world-renowned conglomerate, a company whose tentacles extended to the far reaches of every avenue of business. He was one of the richest men in the world, sweeping his conquests into a life of luxury when they captured his attention: elegant apartments, driving expensive cars, and draped in the finest clothes. They wanted for nothing but his undivided attention, and yet no one dared to ask him for it as if they knew the outcome of such a brazen request.

Not that Marcus was complaining; any one of them could and would be easily replaced. As much as he liked them all, he loved none. Commitment and marriage to one woman were a waste of a man’s prowess and energy. With the divorce rate being what it was, why would he jeopardize his finances and time when the result was inevitable?

It didn’t matter that Marcus’ net worth could fund generations of divorce. That was beside the point.

Something tickled the back of his mind: an uneasiness as he thought about someone who might make him reconsider his staunch views on monogamy. Just as quickly as it surfaced, though, the thought disappeared, as if it had never been there in the first place.

“Five minutes, Mr. Williams,” Georges announced, shooting his boss a quick look in the rear-view mirror.

“Thank you, Georges. You may take Melissa back to the office and return to pick me up.”

“I can wait,” Melissa called out quickly, her dark eyes darting up, and a wry smile touched Marcus’ lips.

“Aren’t you a little sadist?” he said coyly, and her cheeks blushed crimson.

“No,” she protested. “I just don’t see the point of Georges making two trips if you are returning to the office.”

“Who said I am returning to the office?” Marcus demanded, his smile freezing on his lips as he studied her face.

Embarrassment colored Melissa’s olive complexion as she realized her mistake.

“I forgot you had canceled the meeting for this afternoon,” she said quickly.

Marcus knew she had forgotten no such thing, but he had to admire her quick thinking. It was easier than admitting she was questioning his actions.

The car pulled up to the quaint refurbished condos on Queen Street, Georges blocking traffic as he exited the driver’s seat.

“Marcus?” Melissa called tentatively.

“Yes?” he replied, ready to step from his seat.

“Will I see you tonight?”

Marcus felt his back tense, and he lazily looked at her. “You are full of questions today, aren’t you, Missy?” Melissa swallowed nervously, and his eyes bored into hers until she shifted her eyes away.

“Never mind,” she muttered, and Marcus chuckled, the door opening beside him.

Oh, give her something, he chided himself. She looks a little bit like a lost puppy right now with those big brown eyes. Impulsively, he darted to cover the space between them, placing a sweet kiss on her cheek, his fingers sliding up her skirt once more.

She jumped at the unexpectedness of the gesture, a hot red staining her cheeks.

“Marcus!” she gasped, realizing that Georges had seen the entire exchange.

Marcus laughed and slid gracefully out of the car, spinning to cast her another wink.

“Keep your phone nearby,” he told her as the car door slammed in the wake of his words. He turned to Georges again, reaching into his pockets for a set of keys. “Take her back to the office and come back immediately. I won’t be long here,” he said.

“Of course, Mr. Williams.”

A doorman allowed him entry, and the concierge happily smiled when he saw Marcus enter.

“Mr. Williams!” he exclaimed, rising from his chair. “How long has it been, sir?”

“Too long, Gene,” Marcus replied coldly, striding toward the elevator.

“I was growing concerned, but Miss Ellerson said you were well.”

Marcus did not reply, using his fob to call the elevator to open. He knew it was the concierge’s way of questioning the comings and goings of the penthouse, but Marcus was far too skilled in the art of avoidance to entertain the man.

It’s more fun to keep them guessing, anyway, he mused, watching as the fob activated. Instantly, the state-of-the-art machine opened, and he stepped in, ignoring the overeager guard as he pressed the button to the penthouse.

He turned to examine his reflection in the spotless glass at his back. No one would have known he had just been on a plane for seven and a half hours: his dark blond hair was brushed back away from his face, cut close to the skull in a professional business style. Blue eyes and high cheekbones pierced through the glass, like rays of light bouncing back onto his chiseled face—the trademark Williams face that superseded time and defied age.

Like his brothers, his body was sturdily built. A custom-made Dolce and Gabbana suit barely hid the muscular definition of his massive arms and toned chest from beneath a black button down.

His skin was a flawless golden brown, a combination of sun and genetics blessing his complexion.

We are an anomaly, he thought, not for even the hundredth time in years. Ageless and cursed.

There was a time when he had believed Opal’s curse had made them an abomination, but those days were long over. Science and experience had taught him that he and his brothers were miracles, not hexes.

On the thirty-second floor, the door chimed, silently sliding open, and Marcus stepped onto the marble floor, keys in hand. Outside penthouse one, he heard the soft flow of classical music emanating, and he wondered what Cosima was doing inside. He paused for a moment, laying his head against the doorframe, listening for other sounds within. However, he could not hear her moving about.

Perhaps she is upstairs, he thought, putting his key in the lock and allowing himself inside.

“Hello?” he called out, but only Chopin flittered to meet his ears, the tones piping from the library off the main rotunda. “Cosima?”

Marcus made his way through the open space and paused at the entrance to the two-tiered library. Inside, he saw his lover asleep on the leather settee, a book against her full chest. A wave of affection washed through him as he gently approached her, staring down at her face.

She is so beautiful, even at her age, he thought, leaning down to brush a strand of white-blonde hair from her slumbering face. Cosima stirred slightly, and her eyes fluttered.

“Marcus?” she murmured, blinking sleepily. Reality began to settle in, and her blue eye lit up happily. “It’s you! You’re back!” she gasped, sitting up and throwing her arms around Marcus as the book on her chest fell to the Persian rug below.

Marcus returned her embrace and sat her back, running his fingertips over her mouth.

“I wish I had known you were coming,” Cosima continued, smoothing out her dress as she sat. “I would have made something to eat and dressed for the occasion.” She nervously ran her hands through her hair, carefully studying his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, shyly lowering her eyes.

“I think you know why,” Marcus replied quietly. Cosima smiled coyly and reached for him, but he grabbed her wrist, shaking his head. “No,” he murmured. “That is not why.”

Her head jerked back up and she gaped at him, her pupils dilating in fear. “No!” she cried. “Marcus, no!”

He nodded slowly, rising to his feet. “No need to make a scene, Cosima. I have given you fair notice, and I have already put enough money in your account to ensure you live out your days comfortably.”

“Marcus, please! I have nowhere else to go!”

Marcus sighed, shaking his head.

“And whose fault is that?” he asked. “How many times have I tried to tell you that you must plan for the future, Cosima? Well, guess what, darling. That future is here.”

“Marcus!” Cosima begged, reaching for his hand in desperation. “Who else loves you as much as I do? We have had so much fun together! You can’t cast me out now!”

“I must,” he replied evenly, turning away. “Our agreement is no longer working out for me.”

A strangled sob escaped Cosima’s lips, and she pleaded with him again. “Marcus, just a little bit longer, a few more months so I can find somewhere to go—”

“No!” His voice was like a thousand ice shards, penetrating her with fury. His response was absolute. “You have plenty of money. Get a hotel until you can find somewhere else to go.”

Cosima’s face turned pale, and she gaped at him.

“How long?” she whispered. “How long do I have?”

“The new girl moves in tomorrow at five p.m.,” Marcus answered. “Please be out by noon. Take whatever you want. I have new furniture arriving early in the afternoon.”

He turned away, rolling his eyes at the dramatic sobbing that followed him out of the condo. He wondered why they always made it so difficult when it was time to go.