Breaking into a ten-thousand-dollar-a-night Greek villa hadn’t been in my plans for the

day, but plans changed and people adapted, especially when they had clients who insisted

on making their life as difficult as possible.

My knees scraped against concrete as I hauled myself onto the terrace ledge and over

the railing. If I ruined my brand-new Stella Alonso dress over this, I’d kill him, bring him

back to clean up the mess, then kill him again.

Luckily for him, I landed on the terrace without incident and slipped back into the

heels I’d tossed over earlier. The heavy drum of my heartbeats followed me to the sliding

glass door, where I tapped the master key I’d “borrowed” from one of the maids against the

card reader.

I would’ve gone through the front door, but it was too exposed.

The back terrace was the only way.

The card reader whirred, and for a single terrifying second, I thought it wouldn’t open.

Then the reader flashed green, and I allowed myself a breath of relief before I set my jaw

again.

Breaking in was the easy part. Getting him to another country by sunset was another.

I made a quick detour to the kitchen, then crossed the living room to the primary suite.

I winced when I saw the empty beer bottles littering the kitchen counter, and it took every

ounce of willpower not to toss them in the recycling bin, sterilize the marble, and spray the

room with air freshener.

Stay focused. My professional and personal reputations were on the line.

The villa was cool and quiet despite the early-afternoon sun splashing through the

windows, and the bedroom was cooler and quieter still.

Perhaps that was why, when I walked to the bed and unceremoniously dumped a large

bowl of ice-cold water over its slumbering occupant, the speed of his response startled a

rare gasp out of me.

A strong hand shot out and grasped my wrist. The empty bowl clattered to the ground,

and the room tilted as he yanked me down, rolled over, and pinned me against the bed

before the gasp fully left my mouth.

Xavier Castillo stared down at me, his handsome face etched with a scowl.

The only son of Colombia’s wealthiest man (and my least cooperative client) was

usually laid-back to a fault, but there was nothing laid-back about the way his forearm

pressed against my throat or the one hundred eighty pounds of solid muscle trapping me

beneath him.

His scowl relaxed as anger gave way to recognition and a touch of horror. “Sloane?”

“That is my name.” I lifted my chin, trying not to focus on how warm he was

compared to the damp mattress against my back. “Now, if you could release me

immediately, it would be appreciated. I’m ruining a seven-hundred-dollar dress.”

“Mierda.” He spit out the curse and relaxed his hold on my neck so I could get up.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“My job.” I pushed him off me and stood. Was it just me, or was it exponentially

colder now than it’d been five minutes ago? “It’s the twelfth. You know where you’re

supposed to be, and it’s not here.” I glared at him, daring him to argue. “I thought you were an intruder. I could’ve hurt you.” Now that we’d established I

wasn’t here to rob or kidnap him, a familiar grin replaced his frown. Xavier retook his spot

on the bed, the picture of insouciance. “Technically, you are an intruder, but a very

beautiful one. If you wanted to join me in bed, you only had to say so. No need to go to all

this trouble.” He arched an eyebrow at the bowl on the floor. “How’d you get in anyway?”

“I stole a master key, and don’t try to distract me.” After three years of working with

Xavier, I was used to his tricks. “It’s one in the afternoon. Your jet is waiting for us at the

airport. If we leave in the next half hour, we’ll make it to London in time to get ready

before tonight’s gala.”

“Great plan.” Xavier stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “Except for one

problem—I’m not going.”

My nails dug into my palms before I caught myself. Breathe.

Remember, murdering a client is considered unprofessional.

“You will get out of bed,” I said, my voice chilly enough to freeze the droplets of water

lingering on his skin. “You will board that jet, attend the gala with a smile, and stay for the

entirety of the event like a good representative of the Castillo family because if you don’t, I

will make it my personal mission to ensure you never have another second of peace. I will

crash every party you attend, warn off any woman stupid enough to fall into your orbit, and

blacklist any of your friends who enable your worst impulses from my events. I can make

your life a living hell, so don’t make an enemy out of me.”

Xavier yawned again.

This had been our dynamic since Xavier’s father hired me three years ago, right before

Xavier moved from Los Angeles to New York, but I was done going easy on him.

“So, you’re my new publicist.” Xavier kicked back in his chair and propped his feet on

my desk. White teeth flashed against tanned skin, and his eyes sparkled with a slyness that

made me bristle.

Ten seconds after meeting my most lucrative client, and I already hated him.

“Remove your feet from my desk and sit like a proper adult.” I didn’t care that Alberto

Castillo was paying me triple my usual fee to look after his son. No one disrespected me in

my own office. “Otherwise, you can leave and explain to your father why you got dropped

by your publicist on the very first day. I imagine that’ll have a negative impact on your cash

flow.”

“Ah, you’re one of those.” He acquiesced, but his smile hardened at the mention of his

father. “Uptight rule follower. Got it. You should’ve introduced yourself that way instead of

with your name.”

My favorite pen cracked from the force of my grip.

I wasn’t a superstitious person, but even I could tell that didn’t bode well for the future

of our relationship.

I’d been right.

I let him slide when it came to certain things because the Castillos were my biggest

contract, but my job was to keep his family’s reputation pristine, not kiss the heir’s ass.

Xavier was a grown man. It was time he acted like it.

“That’s quite a threat,” he drawled. “Every party and woman? You must really like

me.”He slunk out of bed with the lazy grace of a panther awakening from slumber. A pair

of gray sweatpants rode low on his hips, revealing golden-brown skin and a V cut one

wouldn’t expect from someone who spent the majority of his days partying and sleeping.

Inky tattoos swirled up his bare chest and shoulders and down his arms in intricate patterns.

If it were anyone else, I would’ve admired the raw masculine beauty on display, but

this was Xavier Castillo. The day I admired anything except his commitment to non-

commitment was the day I could somehow physically cry again.

“Don’t worry, Luna,” he said, catching my scrutiny with a small grin. “I won’t tell

your other clients I’m your favorite.”

Sometimes he called me by my actual name. Other times he called me Luna. It wasn’t

my nickname, middle name, or any name close to Sloane, but he refused to tell me why and

I’d given up on getting him to stop or explain long ago.

“Be serious for once,” I said. “The event is honoring your father.”

“Even more reason not to go. It’s not like my old man will be there to accept the

award.” Xavier’s smile didn’t budge, but his eyes flickered with a spark of danger. “He’s

dying, remember?”

The words crashed between us and sucked all the oxygen out of the room as we stared

at each other, his unflappable calm a rock against my mounting frustration.

The Castillos’ father-son relationship was notoriously thorny, but Alberto Castillo

hired me to manage their reputation, not their personal issues—that was, until what

happened behind closed doors spilled into the public eye.

“People already think you’re a good-for-nothing trust fund brat for shirking your

responsibilities after your father was diagnosed.” I didn’t mince words. “If you miss an

event honoring him as Philanthropist of the Year, the media will eat you alive.”

“They already do, and honor?” Xavier raised his eyebrows. “The man writes a check

for a couple million every year, and he not only gets a tax write-off but also fawning praise

for being a philanthropist. You and I both know the award doesn’t mean shit. Anyone with

deep enough pockets can get it. Besides…” He leaned against the wall and crossed his

arms. “Mykonos is way more fun than another stuffy gala. You should stay. The ocean air

will be good for you.”

Dammit, I recognized that tone. It was his “you can put a gun to my head and I still

won’t cave because it’ll piss you off” tone. I’d heard it more times than I cared to count.

I did a quick mental calculation.

I hadn’t gotten to where I was in my career by fighting losing battles. I needed to be in

London tonight, and our window for a timely departure was rapidly shrinking. Missing my

rendezvous was not an option, but if Xavier stayed in Greece, my job required me to stay as

well and look after him.

Since I didn’t have the time to guilt, threaten, or persuade him into doing what I

wanted like I usually did, I was left with one last resort.

A bargain.

I crossed my arms, mirroring his stance. “Let’s hear it.” His brows arched higher.

“Your condition,” I said. “The one thing you want in exchange for attending the

awards ceremony. Anything involving sex, drugs, or illegal activities is off the table. Other

than that, I’m willing to bargain.”His eyes narrowed. He hadn’t expected me to give in so easily, and if I didn’t need to

be in London by eight p.m., I wouldn’t have. But I couldn’t miss my date, so a deal with the

devil it was.

“Fine.” Xavier’s cheeks dimpled with his signature smile, though a shadow of

suspicion remained on his face. “Since you’re so forthcoming, I will be too. I want a

vacation.”

“You’re already on vacation.”

“Not me. You.” He pushed off the wall, his steps languid yet deliberate as he crossed

the room and stopped mere inches from me. “I’ll attend the gala if you promise to join me

on vacation after. Three weeks in Spain. No work, just play.”

The request soared from so far out of left field I gave myself whiplash trying to follow

it. “You want me to take three weeks off work?”

“Yes.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

I’d taken a total of two vacation days since I started Kensington PR, my boutique

public relations firm, six years ago. The first was for my grandmother’s funeral. The second

was when I was hospitalized with pneumonia (chasing paparazzi in the dead of winter

would do that to you). Even then, I’d kept up with emails on my phone.

I was work. Work was me. The thought of abandoning it for even a minute made my

stomach cramp.

“That’s the deal.” Xavier shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”

“Forget it. It’s not happening.”

“Fine.” He turned toward the bed again. “In that case, I’m going back to sleep. Feel

free to stay or fly home. It doesn’t matter to me.”

My teeth clenched.

That bastard. He knew I wouldn’t fly home and leave him here to sow chaos in my

absence. With my luck, he’d throw a public orgy on the beach tonight just to set tongues

wagging and drive home the fact he wasn’t at the gala when he should be.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. We needed to leave in the next fifteen minutes if we

were to make it to the gala in time.

If it weren’t for my eight o’clock date in London, I might have called Xavier’s bluff,

but…

Dammit.

“I can do two days,” I said, relenting. One weekend wouldn’t kill me, right?

“Two weeks.”

“One week.”

“Deal.” His dimples blinded me again, and I realized I’d been tricked. He’d

deliberately started with a higher offer to barter me down to his original plan.

Unfortunately, it was too late for regrets, and when he held out his hand, I had no

choice but to shake on the time frame I’d proposed.

That was the worst part about Xavier. He was smart, but he applied it to all the wrong

things.

“Don’t look at me like I killed your pet fish,” he drawled. “I’m taking you on vacation.

It’ll be fun. Trust me.”

His smile widened at my icy stare.One week in Spain with one of my least favorite people on the planet. What could

possibly go wrong?

N othing brightened my day more than riling Sloane up. She was so predictable in her

responses and so spectacular in her anger, and I loved seeing her ice-queen façade melt long

enough to reveal a glimpse of the real person underneath.

It didn’t happen often, but when it did, I added it to the mental drawer where I

collected all things Sloane.

“Ah, you’re one of those.” I flicked a gaze over my new publicist’s tight bun and

tailored dress. “Uptight rule follower. Got it. You should’ve introduced yourself that way

instead of with your name.”

The glare she bestowed on me could’ve leveled an entire city block.

Objectively, Sloane was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever met. Blue eyes, long

legs, symmetrical face…Michelangelo himself couldn’t have sculpted a better female form.

Too bad none of that came with a sense of humor.

She said something sharp in response, but I’d already tuned her out.

Fuck my father for forcing me into this stupid arrangement. If it weren’t for my

inheritance, I’d tell him to piss off.

Publicists were glorified babysitters, and I didn’t want or need a babysitter. Besides, as

pleasing to the eye as she was, I could already tell Sloane was going to be a major buzzkill.

That’d been our first meeting. My initial animosity toward her had run out of oxygen

since then, leaving…hell, I didn’t know. Curiosity. Attraction. Frustration.

Much more complicated emotions than hostility, unfortunately.

I didn’t know when the switch flipped, but I wished I could go back and unflip it. I’d

much rather hate her than be intrigued by her.

“Stand up straight,” Sloane said without taking her eyes off the man beelining toward

us. “You’re at a black-tie event, not the beach. Try to pretend you want to be here.”

“There’s alcohol, food, and a gorgeous woman by my side. Of course I want to be

here,” I drawled, telling the truth in the first part and lying my ass off in the second.

My gaze skimmed over her quickly enough to escape her notice, yet long enough to

imprint the image in my mind. On anyone else, her simple black gown would’ve been

boring, but Sloane could wear a grocery bag and still blow everyone else out of the water.

The silk skimmed her lean frame, highlighting her flawless skin and smooth, bare

shoulders. She’d swept her hair into a fancier version of its usual bun, and other than a pair

of small diamond-drop earrings, she wore no accessories and barely any makeup. She’d

obviously dressed with the intention of blending in, but she could no more blend into a

crowd than a jewel could blend into mud.

I’ll be honest—I hadn’t expected her to accept my deal. I’d hoped she would, but she

was married to her job and the gala wasn’t that important. It was a run-of-the-mill event

honoring my father, not the Legacy Ball or a royal wedding.

The fact she would give up a week of precious work time in exchange for my

attendance here? It reeked of fishiness, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I’d been dying to get Sloane away from the office for a while. She was wound so tight

she was bound to explode, and I didn’t want to be there when it happened. She needed a

release. Plus, the trip was the perfect opportunity to corrupt her—get her to let her hair

down (literally and figuratively), loosen up, have some fun. I would pay to see her lounging

on the beach like a normal person instead of making people cry on the phone.Sloane Kensington needed a vacation more than anyone else I knew, and I needed—

“Xavier!” Eduardo finally reached us. My father’s best friend and interim CEO of the

Castillo Group clapped a hand on my shoulder, interrupting my thoughts before they

strayed down a dangerous path. “I didn’t expect to see you here, mijo.”

“Me neither,” I said dryly. “Good to see you, tío.”

He wasn’t my biological uncle, but he might as well have been. He and my father had

been friends since childhood, and he’d been one of his most trusted advisors before my

father fell ill. Eduardo was currently running the ship until the board made a final decision

on whether to wait for my father to get better or find a new permanent CEO.

Eduardo turned to Sloane and gave her a customary Colombian cheek kiss. “Sloane,

you look lovely,” he said. “I assume I have you to thank for this one showing up. I know

how hard it is to wrangle him, eh? When he was a kid, we called him pequeño toro.

Stubborn as a little bull.”

Her earlier ire melted into a professional smile. “It’s my job. I’m happy to do it.”

She was as good a liar as I was.

The three of us chatted for a bit until another guest pulled Eduardo away. He was

accepting the Philanthropist of the Year award on behalf of my father since I’d refused to do

it, but everyone seemed eager to talk business instead of charity with him.

Typical.

I caught Sloane checking her watch again as we wound our way toward our table.

“That’s the dozenth time you’ve looked at your watch since we arrived,” I said. “If you’re

that eager to leave, we can skip the boring ceremony and get hammered at the bar.”

“I don’t get hammered, and if you must know, I’m meeting someone in an hour. I trust

you can behave yourself after I leave.” Despite her cool tone, visible tension lined her jaw

and shoulders.

“Meeting someone this late in London?” We settled in our seats just as the emcee took

the stage and applause filled the room.“Don’t tell me you have a hot date.”

“Whether I do or don’t is none of your business.” She picked up the calligraphed menu

card and scanned it for walnuts, no doubt. Sloane had a strange vendetta against them (and

it wasn’t an allergy; I’d checked).

“I’m surprised you find time to date.” The emcee began his welcome speech. Reason

told me to drop the issue, but I couldn’t. There was something about Sloane that always

made reason fly out the window. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Xavier.” She dropped the menu and looked at me. “Now’s not the time. We don’t

want a repeat of the Cannes fiasco.”

I rolled my eyes. Get caught dozing off once during a major awards speech and I was

suddenly the bad guy. If these types of events weren’t so damn boring, maybe I’d have an

easier time staying awake.

People didn’t know entertainment these days. Who wanted stuffy elevator music and

the same boring drinks they served at every gala? No one. If I cared enough, I’d give the

organizers a few pointers, but I didn’t.

The servers brought out the food, which I ignored in favor of more champagne as the

ceremony trudged on.

I tuned it out and ruminated on what type of guy Sloane might be seeing. In all our

years working together, I’d never seen her with or heard her mention a date, but obviously,she had to have been with someone.

She was prickly as hell, but she was also beautiful, smart, and accomplished. Even

now, there were multiple men sneaking peeks at her from surrounding tables.

I downed my drink and glared at one of them until he looked away, his face red.

Sloane was my date in name only, but it was bad form for other people to ogle her when

she’d come with me. Did no one observe proper etiquette anymore?

The room erupted into its loudest round of applause. Eduardo stood, and I realized the

emcee had just announced my father as the organization’s Philanthropist of the Year.

“Clap,” Sloane said without looking at me. A tight smile affixed her face. “The

cameras are watching.”

“When aren’t they watching?” I clapped half-heartedly for Eduardo and Eduardo only.

“It’s my honor to accept this award on Alberto’s behalf tonight,” he said. “As you

know, he’s been my friend and business partner for more years than I can count…”

Sloane glanced at her watch and gathered her belongings when Eduardo wrapped up

his thankfully short speech.

I straightened. “You’re leaving already?” It’d only been fifty minutes, not an hour.

“In case there’s traffic. I trust you’ll behave in my absence.” She emphasized her last

sentence with a warning stare.

“The minute you leave, I’m throwing my drink in another guest’s face and hijacking

the music system,” I said. “Sure you don’t want to stay?”

She didn’t look amused.

“Do that, and our deal is off,” she said flatly. “I’ll check in at the end of the night.”

She slipped discreetly out of her chair and toward the exit. I was so focused on

watching her leave, I didn’t notice Eduardo’s approach until he placed a hand on my

shoulder.

“Do you have time to talk? There’s something we need to discuss.”

“Sure.” With Sloane gone, I’d do anything to get out of sitting here with the most

boring tablemates in existence.

I followed Eduardo into the hall. Now that the ceremony was over, the guests had

resumed their drinking and mingling, and no one paid us much mind.

“I was going to call and tell you, but in person is better.” Free from the watchful eyes

of photographers, Eduardo’s mouth settled into a grim line that had my pulse quickening.

“Xavier…”

“Let me guess. It’s my father.”

“No. Yes. Well…” Eduardo wiped a hand over his face, uncharacteristically hesitant.

“His condition is stable. There’s been no change.”

A twist of either relief or disappointment loosened the knot in my chest. How fucked

up was it that I had mixed feelings over what should’ve been good news?

“That means he’s not getting worse, but he’s also not getting better,” Eduardo said.

“You haven’t visited him in months. You should see him. It might help. The doctors say

having loved ones around—”

“The key phrase is loved ones. Since my mom isn’t around, I guess he’s fucked.”

The only person my father had ever truly cared about was my mother.

“He’s your father.” My honorary uncle’s mouth thinned.“Deja de ser tan terco. Haz las paces antes de que sea demasiado tarde.” Stop being

so stubborn. Make amends before it’s too late.

“I’m not the one who needs to make amends,” I said. There were only so many times a

guy could try before he gave up, and I’d reached my limit years ago. “Anyway, good talk,

but I have somewhere else to be.”

“Xavi—”

“Safe travels home.” I turned. “Say hi to everyone else for me.”

“It’s your family’s company,” Eduardo called after me. He sounded resigned. He’d

only taken the interim CEO position because I’d turned it down, and I knew he clung to the

hope that I’d magically “come to my senses” about continuing the family legacy one day.

“You can’t run from it forever.”

I didn’t break my stride.

With the ceremony done, the gala was basically over, which meant I wouldn’t be

breaking my deal with Sloane if I left.

The reminder of her and where she was right now—probably on some date with some

asshole—darkened my already-thunderous mood.

I usually tried to look on the bright side, but fuck it, sometimes a guy had to wallow.

I grabbed my jacket from coat check and climbed into one of the black cabs waiting

outside the event space.

“Neon,” I said, naming the city’s hottest new nightclub. “I’ll tip you a hundred pounds

if you can get me there in under fifteen minutes.”

The cab pulled away from the curb. I stared out the window at the passing lights of

London, eager for the moment I could drink away any thoughts of Eduardo, my father, and

a certain publicist who occupied my waking moments far more than she should.

T he “red man” signal warning pedestrians not to cross the road stared me down. I

ignored it and power walked across the street, tuning out the blaring car horn of an

oncoming truck.

I was already late, and if I didn’t take off my shoes soon, my bloodied feet would kill

me faster than getting hit by a car. Four-inch stilettos looked great, but they weren’t made

for ten blocks of city walking.

Unfortunately, London traffic was a shitshow, so I’d ditched my cab after being stuck

on the same street for twenty minutes.

By the time I reached the hotel, my dress was stuck to my body with sweat and I could

barely feel my feet, but I made it to the penthouse without incident (unless I counted the

other guests’ horrified stares).

Please don’t be asleep.

I knocked on the door, my heart in my throat.

Please don’t be asleep. Please don’t be—

My breath exhaled in a puff of relief when a familiar round face answered the door.

“There you are.” Rhea ushered me in, her eyes darting toward the entrance like George

and Caroline would walk in at any minute. She put her job in jeopardy every time she

texted me, but we both took our risks for the same reason. “I was afraid you couldn’t make

it.”

“I got held up by traffic, but I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I took off my shoes and

sighed. Much better.

With Rhea’s help, I quickly cleaned my bloody feet before walking into the suite’s

living room. My heart clenched when I saw her sitting on the floor, watching a kids’ cartoon

about ballerinas. She always gravitated toward shows about dance or sports.

Her back faced me, but she must have had a sixth sense because she turned the instant

I entered the room.

“Sloane!” Penny scrambled to her feet and ran toward me. “You came.”

“Of course I came.” I bent down to hug her. God, she’d grown so much since the last

time I saw her.

She buried her face in my stomach, and if I could cry, I would’ve at how tightly she

clung to me. Besides Rhea, I was probably her first hug of the day.

Her nanny left the room, giving us time alone, and I eventually, reluctantly released

her so I could fish her gift out of my bag. “Happy birthday, Pen. This is for you.”

My half sister’s eyes lit up. She took the gift and unwrapped it, taking great care not to

rip the silver-striped paper.

She was Penelope to her parents and Penny to everyone else, but she’d always be Pen

to me. The sister I never knew I needed, the only one who’d cried when I left, and the only

Kensington I still considered family after my grandmother died.

She finished unwrapping the gift, and her delighted gasp brought a smile to my face.

“The new American Sports doll!” She clutched the precious item to her chest. “How

did you get this?”

“I know people. Your older sister is pretty cool, you know,” I teased.

The limited-edition doll was one of the most sought-after toys in the world. There

were only two dozen in existence, but my friend Vivian’s husband pulled some strings andgot me one in time for Pen’s birthday.

She couldn’t play with it openly, but one of the upsides to her parents’ neglect was that

they wouldn’t notice or question how she’d gotten the toy.

“So, how does nine feel?” I sat next to her on the floor. “You’re almost in the double

digits.”

“Gross. Soon I’ll be old like you—ah!” Pen erupted into hysterical giggles when I

tickled her side. “Stop! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She gasped. “You’re not that old.”

“That’s what you get for insulting me,” I quipped, but I stopped tickling her, mindful

not to overexert her. I always trod a line between treating her like a normal kid while

knowing she wasn’t, at least not in terms of physical stamina.

Two years ago, Pen was diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome, or CFS, after an

unusually lengthy bout of mono. Characterized by extreme fatigue, sleep issues, and joint

and muscle pain, among other things, CFS had no cure or approved treatment. It was

difficult to determine the cause, though her doctors suspected it was triggered by a change

in the way her immune system responded to illness, and the best we could do was manage

the symptoms.

Despite having no FDA-approved treatments, CFS had spawned a thousand and one

snake oil salesmen who promised a “cure” via special vitamins, antiretrovirals, and other

“miracle” medications. Pen’s parents had flushed a ton of money down the drain trying to

find something that worked. Nothing ever did, so eventually, they gave up and simply

shoved her at home where they didn’t have to think about her.

Luckily, Pen had mild CFS, so she could carry out everyday activities better than those

with more severe cases, but she couldn’t play sports like she wanted or attend school like

her peers. On bad days, it was difficult for her to walk. She was currently homeschooled,

and Rhea stayed with her pretty much twenty-four seven in case she crashed.

“I made something for you.” Pen sounded out of breath, but my concern ebbed when

she walked to the coffee table and returned without missing a beat. A knot formed in my

throat. It was a good day; she deserved a good day on her birthday. “It’s a friendship

bracelet.” She placed the jewelry carefully in my palm. “I have a matching one. See?”

The beaded bracelet simply had five hearts. Hers were pink; mine were blue.

The pressure from the knot wound its way up behind my nose and ears. “It’s beautiful.

Thank you, Pen.” I slid the bracelet onto my wrist. “But you should receive gifts on your

birthday, not give them.” Especially not when making the jewelry probably cost her hours’

worth of energy.

“I don’t get to see you on your birthday,” she said in a small voice.

I hated that she was right. We only saw each other a few times a year when Rhea could

sneak me in. My family was spiteful enough that they’d lock her in a vault before they’d

willingly let me visit, and I was proud enough never to apologize for something I wasn’t at

fault for. I’d thought about it, but I couldn’t do it. Not even for Pen.

“Well, we’re together now,” I said, pushing thoughts of the past aside. “What do you

want to do? We can watch a movie, play with your new doll…”

“I want to watch the Blackcastle versus Holchester game.” Pen looked at me with big

doe eyes. “Please?”

I wasn’t a sports person, but she loved soccer, so I acquiesced to a taped replay. The

game made headlines earlier this year because it’d been the first time Asher Donovan, thedarling of the Premier League and the newest transfer to Blackcastle, had played against his

old team.

Besides Xavier, Asher was my most difficult client, but he was also Pen’s hero. She’d

nearly ruptured my eardrum when he signed with my firm a few years ago.

Speaking of Xavier…

While Pen curled against my side and watched the match with rapt attention, I quickly

checked my phone for any new gossip items. I ignored a text from an old hookup asking to

meet up again—the man could not take a hint—and scanned the news.

I had alerts for all my clients, but there were only two names that made my blood

pressure rise whenever they popped up onscreen. One of their initials: XC.

Nothing. Good. He was behaving. I swore Rhea had an easier time taking care of Pen

than I did keeping Xavier in line.

Pen and I didn’t talk throughout the game, but we didn’t need to. Even though we

didn’t see each other often, the best part of our reunions was being comfortable together.

Sometimes that meant talking nonstop; other times it meant watching a movie in content

silence.

She shifted half an hour in, and when I looked down, my pulse spiked with worry. Pale

face, glazed eyes—she was about to crash. “I’m okay,” she said when I called for Rhea. The

older woman rushed into the room, her face wreathed with concern. “Stay.” Pen clutched

my sleeve with her little hand. “I never get to see you.”

Despite her words, her voice faded into a whisper toward the end. The night had taken

its toll, and it was a testament to her fatigue that she didn’t argue again when I kissed her

goodbye on the forehead.

“We’ll see each other again soon,” I said fiercely. “I promise.”

I wished we had more time together, but Pen’s health came before anything else.

Rhea and I took her into the bedroom, where she instantly crashed. I hoped she slept

through the night. Otherwise, tomorrow would be rough.

I smoothed back her hair, my throat clogged with emotion. Another visit finished too

soon. Our time together never lasted as long as I would’ve liked, but at least I saw her. It

was the best I could’ve asked for given our circumstances.

“It’s good she got to see you for a bit tonight,” Rhea said after we returned to the

living room. “Mr. and Mrs. Kensington didn’t spend a lot of time with her before they went

out.”

Of course they hadn’t. My father and stepmother considered Pen’s condition an

embarrassment and kept her away from the public as much as possible.

“Thank you for letting me know about tonight,” I said. Rhea had called last week and

told me they would be in London. George and Caroline had dinner and show reservations

tonight, which gave me a large enough window to see Pen. “I appreciate—”

“…absolutely terrible.” A familiar voice outside the door stopped us in our tracks and

made my stomach plunge. “Honestly, George, I’ve never had a more abysmal lobster.”

Rhea and I stared at each other, her huge eyes mirroring mine. “They’re not supposed

to be back for another two hours.”

Her mouth trembled. “If they see you…”

We’d be done for. Rhea loved Pen like a mother. If she were fired, they would both be

devastated, and if I couldn’t see Pen anymore…Do something. CEOs and celebrities paid me exorbitant amounts of money to guide

them through rough patches, but a strange disassociation rooted my feet to the floor. It was

like I was watching an actor play me in the hotel room while the real me spiraled down a

tunnel of unwanted memories.

Dating you is like dating a block of ice…I don’t know if you even like me…

Can you blame him for what he did?

If you actually cared that much, you’d cry or show some emotion.

Don’t embarrass us, Sloane.

If you walk out that door, there’s no coming back.

Pressure pushed against the backs of my eyes, desperate for a way out. As always, it

found none.

A key whirred against the suite’s card reader.

Move! a voice inside my head screamed. Are you stupid?

You’re going to get caught.

The soft click of the door unlocking finally snapped me out of my trance and into

crisis-management mode.

I didn’t think. I simply grabbed my bloodied heels from the entryway, scanned the

living room for any traces I might’ve left behind and, satisfied there were none, ducked

behind the floor-to-ceiling drapes.

The door opened, revealing a glimpse of gray hair before I fully ensconced myself

behind thick red velvet. My palms curled, slick with sweat.

I hadn’t planned on running into my family today. I wasn’t mentally prepared for that,

and though I wasn’t a particularly religious person, I prayed with everything I had that they

were too tired to do anything except go straight to sleep.

“We should’ve stuck with our regular spot.” Caroline’s clipped tone echoed in rhythm

with her heels. “This is what happens when you give so-called rising stars a chance,

George. They’re rarely up to par.”

“You’re right.” My father’s deep, familiar voice rumbled through me like thunder on a

Friday night when I was tucked in bed with a book and a flashlight. Equal parts comforting

and ominous, it chipped at the wall I’d erected long ago until a sliver of nostalgia escaped.

It’d been years since I heard his voice in person.

“Next time, we’ll go to the club,” he said. “Rhea, order room service for us. We barely

ate anything at the restaurant.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And why are the drapes open?” Caroline’s voice grew louder. “You know they must

be closed immediately at sunset. Lord knows who could be looking in right now.”

No one because you’re on the twelfth floor and not facing any other buildings.

My snarky mental reply didn’t prevent the taste of copper from filling my mouth when

my stepmother’s footsteps stopped in front of me. I stood frozen, staring at the swath of

velvet that was the only thing separating me from disaster.

Don’t look behind the drapes. Don’t look behind—

She grasped the curtains with one hand. I pressed my back against the window, but she

was centimeters from my face and I had nowhere else to go.

Thud. Thud. THUD.The ominous drum of my heartbeat intensified with each passing second. I was already

devising multiple plans and backup plans for what I would say, what I would do, and who I

would hire to help if Caroline found me and shipped Pen off to some remote location where

I couldn’t see her.

Caroline’s hand tightened around the drapes. For a heart-stopping moment, I thought

the jig was up.

Then she dragged the curtains closed, hiding me completely, and resumed her

complaints about that night’s dinner.

“Honestly, I don’t know how Vogue could’ve named him one of the best new chefs of

the year…” The sound of her heels faded along with my father’s murmured response and

the click of a door closing.

Neither one asked about Pen or acknowledged Rhea again.

My body sagged, light with relief, but when Rhea pulled back the drapes, I didn’t

waste time loitering. George and Caroline could come back out any minute.

I squeezed Rhea’s hand in a silent goodbye and escaped out the front door. She smiled,

her eyes worried, and I didn’t breathe properly until I hit the sidewalk outside the hotel.

The shock of unexpectedly being in the same room as my father again disoriented me

for a few minutes, but the cool October air poured over me like an ice shower, and by the

time I reached the corner, the buzz had vanished from my ears and the streetlights no longer

blurred into an orange stream.

I’m fine. This is fine. I hadn’t been caught, I’d spent time with Pen on her birthday, and

now I could—

My phone buzzed with a news alert.

I glanced at it, my stomach plummeting the minute I saw Perry Wilson’s distinctive

blog logo.

I clicked into the article, and a crimson haze wiped away any lingering unease over my

narrow escape from the hotel.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Two hours. I left him alone for two hours and he still couldn’t follow simple

instructions.

I shoved my phone into my bag and hailed a passing cab. “Neon.” I slammed the door

shut, causing the driver to wince. “I’ll give you your biggest tip of the month if you get me

there in ten minutes.”

Every second counted when I had a client to strangle.