“So, you found nothing,” Marcus sighed. “Is that what you’re saying?”

Melissa shrugged, shaking her head.

“I don’t know what to say.” She offered him a drink that he waved aside. “I suppose it must be a typo that the lawyers didn’t catch.”

Marcus studied her face for a long moment, a slight alarm tickling the back of his mind.

She’s hiding something from me, he thought, but there was no reason for Melissa to lie about such a thing. She stood to gain nothing from the deal. Still, his well-honed intuition told him that something was not right.

“You could have texted me that,” he told her, sighing once more as he glanced at his watch in annoyance. He had not wanted to leave Addison that night, but Melissa had made it sound as if she had pressing news. Now he could see it was a ploy to get him to see her.

It had taken him almost an hour to get uptown in traffic, and while it was only nine o’clock, the idea of getting back in the car to go back downtown was exhausting. He would just have to spend tomorrow night with Addison, which didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Oh, shit, no, he remembered. Tomorrow I’ll be in New York. I’ll see her on the weekend, then. I’ll spend the weekend with her. Maybe we’ll even go up north to the cottage.

The “cottage” in Muskoka was a ten-thousand-square-foot house with three boats, a sauna, a home gym, and an indoor pool. It was tucked away on Lake Rousseau, among dozens of other cottages catering to the very wealthy.

Marcus remembered how smitten Addison had been with it the first time he had brought her there. The thought of seeing her face light up again like that gave him a fusion of pleasure.

But first things first.

He turned to Melissa, scowling.

“I wish you wouldn’t trick me into coming here, Missy,” he told her sternly, reaching for the whiskey. “I spend more time with you than anyone else as it is.”

“You do?” she asked, her eyebrows raising. “Because I was under the impression that you spent more time at the penthouse than you do anywhere else.”

Marcus felt his temper flare, and he slammed the glass down on the table, glaring at her.

“Now you, too?” he spat. “Because we both know how this is going to go.”

Melissa’s brown eyes constricted in shock, and suddenly she burst into laughter.

“Oh!” she chuckled. “You think I’m jealous of sweet Addy?”

“Well?” Marcus growled, taking a swig of his drink. “What was that comment?”

She maintained the bemused grin on her face and sashayed toward him, her gaze fixated on his.

“How long have we known one another, Marcus?” she asked. He shrugged, wracking his tired mind for the correct answer.

“Ten years?” he guessed. “Eleven?” Time had lost its significance long ago, and minuscule slots were like counting minutes to him. He wanted to respond that he could tell her in what century they had met, but he obviously didn’t.

“Twelve,” Melissa answered, straddling his legs. Marcus instantly thought of Addison mounting him, and he gently pushed Melissa off, turning back to his drink.

“What’s your point, Missy?”

“My point is,” she said, “I know the rules, and I have never broken them. Not once, have I?”

He eyed her warily. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“In fact,” Melissa continued, “I would say that out of all the women who have come and gone, I have probably proven myself most worthy, wouldn’t you agree?”

Again, Marcus could feel a slither of alarm, trying to warn him about… something.

“I’m afraid I still fail to see your point,” he told her flatly, taking another long sip of his drink. “I would prefer if you just spit out what it is you want.”

Melissa folded her arms over her chest, a slight pout forming on her lips. “I’m worried about you,” she sighed.

Marcus chuckled and perched backward, tipping the wooden chair against his weight and matching her defiant stance with his own.

“Worried about me?” he replied, grinning. “I must say, that is refreshing.”

“I’m not kidding, Marcus. You brought this girl in after only a year! What do you really know about her? You put her at the penthouse, and also keep her very close to you. Don’t you think it’s moving too quickly?”

An insurmountable wave of protectiveness toward Addison swept through Marcus, and he leaped to his feet before he could stop himself. Melissa maintained her expression.

“I am not envious of Addison, Marcus,” she insisted. “I am concerned that you have not vetted her properly. For all you know, she could be a corporate spy, sent here to learn the ins and outs of Williams Industries.”

This time, Marcus’ laughter was genuine. “She was a waitress in Scarborough,” he told her. “No corporate espionage to worry about, I assure you.”

Melissa did not look convinced. “I don’t know, Marcus. It doesn’t seem like you to bring a girl into the fold so quickly. Most of us take at least two years before you hire us and another year before we get an apartment. What makes her so special?”

“You keep claiming concern, but I can’t help hearing a note of something else in your voice. Is this because you hoped for the penthouse yourself?”

Melissa scoffed and waved her hands around.

“Are you serious?” she asked. “I learned years ago that I was never getting that place. Can you imagine what a pain this place will be to uproot?”

Marcus knew she had a point. Melissa did seem to love her stacked condo at Yonge and Eglington. He was aware that she was not a fan of living downtown. He turned back and returned to his seat at the kitchen table, processing what she said.

It was absolutely impossible. He and Addison had met by complete accident. There was no way she had weaseled her way into his life. He had seen her expression when she had almost been run over by his limo driver. She had been shocked; she’d had no idea it was coming until it did.

“I can see you don’t want to hear it,” Melissa said, again stepping toward him to sit on his lap. Marcus did not push her away. “But at least think about what I’m saying. I don’t deny that she is beautiful and sweet. There may even be a brain in that head of hers. She plays well with the others and keeps to herself. To me, it’s almost like she’s been coached.”

Marcus felt tense. “I think you’re right,” he told her coldly. “I think perhaps you and I have known one another a little bit too long. Since when do you have any right to speak to me about the other women?”

Melissa grunted in frustration and stood up. “You know what, Marcus? Forget I said anything. If I can’t offer you my insight, what good am I to you? You pay me to be your assistant, to take care of your affairs. Unfortunately, sometimes that means your personal life slops into the business, especially when you bring it there. Tatiana Dupris is already on your case about our apartments and salaries. Can you imagine what the board would say if you allowed a spy to get into headquarters?”

Marcus’ head began to throb. He begrudgingly thought that perhaps Tatiana was right, and he really ought to downsize. More money meant more problems, indeed.

“I’m going to bed,” he said to Melissa. “Don’t bring her up again.”

Melissa lowered her head and nodded quickly. “All right,” she agreed. “You are the brains of the operation, after all.”

Marcus did not reply, not knowing if she was making a jibe or relenting in the argument. In either case, he was too tired to pursue the matter any further. Heading into the bedroom, he stripped off his clothing, pulling his cell phone from his pocket.

Tomorrow, he thought, I will message Anders and have him fly here to look over that contract with Lingergram. He’s an attorney. He’ll catch any inconsistencies the other lawyers or I missed. Better yet, I will fly to him tomorrow. That’s just the change of pace I need.

The feeling he had about Melissa, coupled with what she had said about Addison, suddenly had him feeling uncharacteristically paranoid.

His mind traveled to the day he had met Addison; the day Georges had taken the turn too fast and the redhead had leaped to safety at Birchmount and Eglington. They had only been about twenty minutes away from his sprawling mansion on the Bridle Path. The weather had been rainy, and Georges was typically a very cautious driver, but the car had slid from the weather and Addison had been right there.

Fearing a lawsuit, Marcus had swept the shaken girl into his car and brought her home only to placate her. He could not have foreseen that her innocence would enrapture him so easily. Though he did wonder to himself… was she as innocent as she looked? Or had she been fooling him this entire time?

A deep scowl punctured his lips as he realized what Melissa had done.

Addison is lovely and pure. Missy is threatened by her gentleness, that is all it is.

But he also had his doubts about that. As she herself had said, Melissa had never shown the slightest hint of envy toward any of the other women. Melissa Purcell was not an easy woman to know, and she was an even harder woman to like. She had her fair share of feuds with the others, but none of those feuds ever had anything to do with sharing his attention.

A waft of cigarette smoke met his nostrils, and Marcus grunted in annoyance.

“Melissa, what have I told you about smoking in here?” he bellowed, wishing she would give up the filthy habit. It didn’t bother him as much as it should, given his own fire-breathing tendencies. Still, he could not understand how anyone not only wasted their money, but also chipped away at their health with such vices.

“I’m on the balcony!” Melissa yelled back, and she appeared at the sliding glass door, holding a cigarette in her hand. “See?”

“Well, close the door. I can smell it in here.”

“Yes, master,” she retorted with irritation.

He grimaced and closed his eyes again, not wanting to engage any further. Melissa had annoyed him enough for one night.

As Marcus’ mind began to wind down slowly, he found himself back at the penthouse with Addison, her mouth teasing his body with butterfly kisses.

She is not a corporate spy. She is delicate and perfect, he thought, his hand reaching beneath his boxers to adjust his growing member.

“And I thought you were tired,” Melissa chuckled from the doorway, noting his hand. She did not wait for a response, jumping onto the bed to yank off his underwear. As soon as she tried to take off his boxers, though, Marcus felt his hardness decrease, the smell of her cigarettes overtaking any of her natural pheromones.

“I am tired,” he told her, flipping onto his side, dismissing her as she gaped at him. He was no longer in the mood.

Melissa did not answer him. She simply flopped onto her side of the bed, muttering angrily under her breath.

Addy is never contrary, and she doesn’t smoke, Marcus thought to himself. She’s respectful of silence, yet she’s still so wild in the bedroom.

He bit down on his lower lip, his erection mounting again. He lay perfectly still, willing it to go away, lest Melissa see and try again. He had absolutely no interest in being with her that night.

Slowly, an unsettling question popped into his mind.

Why is it that Addison is the only woman I want?