Drew drove her home earlier, while Alcott handled driving me to the restaurant in the BMW that spends most of its time in the basement garage in my building.

  I take it out occasionally when I want to escape the city for a weekend.

  I drive to wherever the road takes me. Often it’s one of smaller towns in upstate New York where no one has time to bother with reading books about sons murdering their billionaire fathers.

  I’ll spend a weekend hidden away in a Bed and Breakfast that accepts cash as payment.

  “That must be Slate,” he deduces based on the fact that the guy is walking next to Juliet.

  I asked him to drive me here so we could park across the street from Juliet’s apartment.

  It’s not logical, but neither is what I’ve been feeling brewing inside of me since I cornered her at my penthouse and asked what she’s expecting from this date.

  For some goddamn reason, I feel a pressing need to see what this Slate person looks like.

  I grip the backrest of the passenger seat to pull myself forward so I can peer out of the windshield.

  Drew leans back as if he’s trying to duck out of view. I’m not sure why given that we are parked near the end of the street.

  There are thousands of vehicles in Manhattan that look identical to this one. Hell, there are probably two parked within twenty-five feet of us.

  She’s not going to spot us.

  I watch as Juliet, dressed in jeans, a cardigan, and flats, walks next to a man wearing glasses.

  They are on the approach to her building.

  “She mentioned him when I drove her home,” Drew announces. “It seemed like she was pretty excited about this.”

  “Stop talking.”

  He nods. “I’m just saying that she seems like a great girl, and she deserves to find someone who can make her happy.”

  “Shut up, Drew.”

  Finally, he quiets enough that I swear to fuck I can hear every single thump of my heart inside my chest.

  “You do not mention this to her. Understood?”

  He nods.

  I keep my gaze pinned to Juliet as they stop in front of her building. I should tell Drew to start the car to take me home, but I don’t.

  I stare at Juliet as she looks up and into the face of a guy who just took her on a date. He leans down. I curse inwardly, and then she turns her face a touch so his lips graze her cheek.

  Slate has been denied a good night kiss.

  “Ouch,” Drew whispers.

  I don’t say anything as Juliet says something to Slate before he turns and walks away.

  That sets me back on the seat with an unexpected charge of relief settling over me. I yank my phone out of my pocket to check the source of the buzzing that has been non-stop for the past five minutes. It’s a string of texts from Graham thanking me for showing up tonight.

  “Oh, shit,” Drew says. “Sir, look.”

  I glance up to see Juliet headed straight for us.

  She crosses the street in a sprint, and as soon as she’s on the sidewalk next to the SUV, she raps her knuckles on the back passenger door window.

  I lower it down, both annoyed and amused that I’ve been caught red-handed.

  As soon as my face is in clear view, Juliet points a finger at me. “Your surveillance skills are shit.”

  I let out a laugh.

  She sets both hands on her hips. “Oh my god, are you laughing? You know how to laugh?”

  Drew chuckles but doesn’t say a word.

  “How was the date, Juliet?” I ask with a smirk.

  “How’s Harry?” she counters. “My bleeding heart wants to know.”

  I catch her eye with mine. “Harry is just fine.”

  “Good.” She glances at her building. “I’m going home. I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Bane.”

  Before I have a chance to respond, she bends her knees to see into the car. “Goodnight, Drew.”

  “Night, Juliet.”

  I get nothing more as she takes off toward her apartment without looking back.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Juliet

  “How was your date, Juliet?”

  I’ll answer the question this time since it’s my sister asking. I drop my purse on the couch before I shrug out of the cashmere cardigan Margot let me borrow.

  I wanted to keep my outfit simple yet sophisticated, so the cardigan was the perfect touch.

  “He’s not for me,” I sum up.

  Margot glances to where I’m standing.

  I can tell that she got home just a few minutes before me. She’s in the kitchen with her hip propped against the counter as she eats leftover quiche.

  “No spark?” she asks.

  “Nope,” I respond, wondering if there might have been a spark at another time.

  All I could think of throughout dinner with Slate was the heated conversation I had with Kavan before I left the penthouse.

  I kept replaying his words over and over again in my mind.

  “You crave a man who hears the echoes of your desires in your moans, and your screams. You want a man who knows how to fuck.”

  All of it is true.

  I want that and more.

  My dinner with Slate was fun. He talked sports and I listened. I can tell that we’d make great friends, but anything beyond that won’t happen for us.

  “How’s work?” Margot asks as she takes another bite of food. “We haven’t talked about that recently? Are you working on a new assignment?”

  I nod. “I am. It’s top secret.”

  Swallowing, she chuckles. “Aren’t they all?”

  “They are,” I affirm with a quick nod of my chin. “How is work for you?”

  “Brutal,” she confesses before she picks up a glass of wine to take a sip. “I love it though. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

  I wouldn’t trade a moment like this for the world.

  She’s relaxed. She didn’t text me twelve times during my date to see if I was okay. She limited that to twice.

  “Do you want to watch the Duke do some naughty stuff?” She wiggles her brows.

  “I’d love to.” I gesture to the hallway. “I’m going to throw on some sweatpants, and make a bowl of popcorn.”

  “I’m all for that.” She glances down at the designer dress she’s wearing. “I’m sorry he wasn’t the guy for you, Juliet.”

  “Don’t be,” I smile as I approach her. “Isn’t part of the fun of finding the one, dating other guys?”

  “If you say so.” She laughs.

  “I like it here,” I whisper. “New York has been good to us so far, hasn’t it?”

  Her eyes mist over. “Other than that time you rescued a woman from a mugger, you mean?”

  Her defenses are starting to melt, so I can’t confess that I was that woman. I may need to take that to my grave.

  “I’m proud of you, Juliet.” A tear trails down her cheek. “You’re so brave, and fearless.”

  I reach up to swipe the tear away. “So are you.”

  “New York really is starting to feel like home to me too,” she admits. “I may never master the subway but that’s what rideshares are for, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Get changed so we can forget about everything but the Duke.”

  Nodding, I head to my bedroom.

  I can’t forget about everything.

  Kavan came here to watch me with Slate. Either he doubts I can take care of myself, or jealousy speared him tonight.

  My heart wants to believe it’s the former, even though my common sense is telling me it’s the latter.

  “Good morning, Juliet,” Nigel says cheerfully as I exit the elevator with Alcott by my side.

  “Hey, Nigel!” I raise a hand in greeting. “You’re looking sharp today.”

  He’s dressed as he usually is in a suit with a white button-down shirt and a patterned tie.

  “As are you,” he reciprocates the compliment.

  My look isn’t sharp. It’s as dull as a marshmallow and just as comfortable.

  I’m in jeans, a pink sweater, and a black blazer.

  I overslept, so I had to hop in the shower quickly, put on a spot of make-up and get dressed in the span of twenty minutes.

  Drew was waiting for me on the sidewalk in front of the building with a coffee. I thanked him profusely before I crawled into the waiting SUV and devoured every berry in sight.

  I’m hoping that the linen napkin I used before I exited the SUV caught every spot of red and pink that was lingering on my lips.

  “Is he already working?” I question Nigel. “I was hoping to get in a solid few hours of interview time today.”

  “He’s running late.”

  Huh? How does one run late when they sleep in the same penthouse they work in? Is Kavan’s bedroom so far from his office that he waits for Alcott to piggyback him there?

  I hold in a laugh at the imagined image of that.

  “You look amused,” Nigel says. “What’s on your mind, Juliet?”

  I glance to where Nara is approaching with a coffee in her hand.

  These people definitely know how to accommodate my coffee addiction.

  I take the mug and thank her for the trouble.

  She smiles. “I’m preparing the lunch menu, Juliet? Any special requests you’d like included within the options.”

  Nigel’s brows perks up but he doesn’t say anything.

  I lean closer to her and lower my voice. “Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, please.”

  She looks at me with an expression that I can only classify as horror mixed with confusion. “What?”

  “I’ll take responsibility for it,” I assure her. “You like PB and J sandwiches, Nigel, don’t you?”

  “Love them.” He smiles.

  Nara laughs before she starts back toward the kitchen.

  “I’m going to head to my office to twiddle my thumbs,” I announce. “When Mr. Bane is ready, can you tell him that I’m eager to get started?”

  Nigel’s gaze drifts over my shoulder. “You can tell him yourself.”

  I take the hint and glance back and oh my fucking god.

  Wearing nothing but black sweatpants slung low over his hips, I catch sight of a very sweaty Kavan Bane standing barefoot less than ten feet behind me, holding a white towel in his hand.

  His body is magnificent. Every muscled inch is utter perfection.

  “Good morning, Juliet,” he says in a way that is more a growl than a greeting.

  I seriously wonder for a moment whether I might pass out from sensory overload.

  “Good morning,” I repeat unable to tear my gaze away from him.

  He approaches me, and then brushes past me to head down a hallway. “I’ll be ready for our interview shortly.”

  I stare at his back as he walks away.

  “He was working out,” Nigel states the obvious.

  “I could tell,” I mutter.

  “You were about to go to your office, Juliet.”

  I nod. “Right. I’ll go.”

  I turn and start walking.

  “It’s this way, dear,” Nigel calls after me.

  Shaking my head, I turn around and march down the corridor that leads to my office. “Thanks, Nigel.”

  “My pleasure, Juliet.” He chuckles. “It’s completely my pleasure.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Juliet

  “What have you accomplished at Bane Enterprises that you’re most proud of?” I read the question from the list I prepared on my phone.

  “That’s a question you’d ask someone at a job interview.” Kavan crosses his arms. “Do better, Juliet.”

  My head pops up. I steal a glance at him but that lasts for less than two seconds before I pin my eyes to the screen of my phone again.

  “Answer the question, Mr. Bane.”

  “No.”

  I’ve been avoiding looking at him since he walked into my office because all I can picture is his broad naked chest and the obvious bulge that was beneath his sweatpants.

  I have to shake that image from my mind so I can get down to business. That would be the business of this interview that is going to vault my career to where I want it to be.

  I suck in a deep breath and look at him. He’s wearing a black suit, shirt and tie. It might look morbid if he didn’t have such beautiful blue eyes.

  “That question helps me understand what motivates you,” I explain.

  “What motivates me is greed.”

  “Do you want me to put that in the article? Or should it be in the headline?”

  “No one would be surprised by the notion that greed motivates me,” he says with a straight face. “It motivates most people who are worth…”

  “Billions of dollars.” I roll my hand in the air. “You’re not a cookie-cutter billionaire.”

  That lures a smile to his lips. “What is a cookie-cutter billionaire, Juliet?”

  “You know the type.” I lean back in my chair to cross my legs. “They’re arrogant. They flash their wealth around. They have people waiting on them hand and foot. They bark out orders.”

  He taps a finger against the armrest of the chair as he listens.

  “They’ve never cooked a meal for themselves. They’ve never flown commercial in their lives.” I turn to look at him with a finger raised in the air. “Oh, wait. You are a cookie-cutter billionaire.”

  Amusement flits across his expression. “Is that how you view me?”

  I think about that for a second. “No.”

  That’s enough to pull another question out of him. “How do you view me, Juliet?”

  “Honestly?”

  He shifts in his chair. “Of course.”

  I look toward the open door of my office. “I view you as someone who is misunderstood. I think you’re buried beneath something that borders on guilt but also edges pain. I believe that circumstances beyond your control formed this persona that you’ve had to carry with you for years.”

  His eyes hold tight to mine.

  “The business is part of who you are, but it’s not the whole of who you are.” I keep going since he has yet to stop me. “I think that you’re punishing yourself by sacrificing your chance at a fulfilling life because of someone else’s lost life.”

  “My father?” he bites those two words out in a sharp tone. “Are you referring to him?”

  Never breaking his gaze, I nod. “Yes.”

  He reaches forward to snatch my hand. He holds it tightly in his. “I warned you not to go there.”

  “Or what?”

  “Drop it, Juliet.”

  I don’t try and tug my hand free. I soften my stance, showing him that I’m not afraid. I refuse to be intimated by him.

  “Creating a prison for yourself won’t bring him back, Kavan.”

  “Stop!” His voice comes out curt with frustration lacing the tone.

  “That’s what you’ve done here.” I swoop my free hand toward the doorway. “You live in a prison of your making. Don’t you want to be free?”

  Abruptly he stands and drops my hand. “Go home, Juliet.”

  I stand too. “No.”

  His eyes bore into mine. “You’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  Squaring my shoulders, I reach out to rest a hand on his chest. “I promise that if you let it all out, there’s freedom on the other side of it.”

  He wraps a hand around my wrist. “I told you to stop talking.”

  “Make me,” I say in a childish way meant to taunt him.

  “I will,” he growls before he tugs me closer, cups a hand around the back of my head, and seals his mouth over mine.

  Chapter Thirty

  Juliet

  My hands jump up to grip the lapels of his jacket as he takes control of the kiss, tilting my head more.

  He grinds against me with a groan spilling out from somewhere deep inside of him. I press closer, my lips, my body, all of me wanting to touch all of him.

  His hand trails down my back to my ass. He holds me against him, against the outline of his swollen cock.

  Suddenly, he breaks the kiss. His eyes wide with wonder, or maybe shock, he steps back. “Fuck, Juliet.”

  Yes, I want to. I want to fuck. Without thinking it through. With wild abandon.

  Those words sit on my lips unsaid as he stares at me, through me, into the deepest recesses of my soul that no one has ever seen.

  My lips quiver because there’s an unspoken confession there I want him to hear.

  I want this man to know my truth and I can’t explain why I feel that.

  Something inside of him speaks to me.

  His eyes search my face.

  With parted lips he lets out a heavy exhale. “I have a meeting.”

  The words hit as hard as a gut punch.

  “Now?”

  “Now,” he repeats with conviction. “We’ll continue this later…the interview later, but stay on topic.”

  How can he go from kissing me like that to slipping back into the buttoned up, uncaring businessman?

  I felt need in that kiss, and a desire so strong that I thought he might tear my clothes off on the spot.

  “Kavan,” I whisper his name.

  “I’ll see you at lunch.” Those words snap out of him with no emotion and not a single glance in my direction.

  Then he’s gone. With a brush of his bicep against my shoulder he’s out of my office and stalking down the hall taking every one of his secrets and the tiniest sliver of my heart with him.

  “What the hell is this?” Kavan opens the two pieces of white bread on the plate in front of him to look at the smeared peanut butter and strawberry jelly.

  “My lunch choice,” I say from across the table.

  He picks up a piece of raw carrot. “You chose this too?”

  I pick up one as well and snap off a bite. “Yep.”

  He looks toward Nigel who is enjoying his first bite of his sandwich with his eyes closed.

  Kavan pushes his plate away. “I can’t eat this.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19