CHAPTER ONE

Sunday—January 22nd, 2023

“Smile, Ana.”

Graham’s breath was hot and sour with champagne against my ear.

The chandelier dripped crystals like frozen tears over the ballroom, but all I felt was the weight of his hand on my lower back—heavy and possessive.

A warning.

“You look like a fucking corpse. Try not to embarrass me tonight.”

I curved my lips upward the way he’d trained me. Perfect. Empty. The same smile I’d worn for seven years while he slowly erased me.

No friends anymore—they were toxic, he said.

No family—they never understood us.

No job—why would you need to work when I take care of you?

I was thirty-one and already haunting my own life.

Graham steered me through the crowd like a trophy, nodding at the right people, laughing at the right jokes. His fingers pressed into the silk at my waist hard enough that I knew I’d have bruises tomorrow. Bruises I’d cover with loose layers and careful lies.

Though it wasn’t as if he hit me. Not really. Just the grip when I wasn’t listening. Or the absence of it at exactly the right time.

There goes Ana, bumbling through life again.

I hated these galas. Hated the glittering cage. Hated how small he made me feel inside them.

Until him.

He stood across the room near the bar, half-shadowed, speaking to someone I didn’t recognize.

Tall. Broad shoulders wrapped in a black tux sharp enough to look dangerous. Dark hair. Sharp jaw. The kind of stillness that made everyone around him feel noisy and badly assembled.

Our eyes met.

My stomach dropped.

I glanced behind me, then whipped back to him.

Was he looking at me?

His gaze moved down my body slowly.

Deliberately.

My heart hammered in my ears.

No one looked at me like that anymore—not in years. I’d forgotten how it felt to be noticed.

Heat bloomed low in my stomach so suddenly it almost hurt. My thighs pressed together before I could stop them.

Time warped strangely after that. The music dulled. The chatter blurred. Even Graham’s hand faded into background static. There was only the man watching me.

Who are you?

He didn’t smile or look away... He just held my stare like he already knew me. Something dangerous shifted inside my chest.

Graham’s voice cut through the haze. “—are you even listening to me?”

His fingers pinched sharply into my waist.

“Eyes on me, Ana. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

I forced my gaze back to him, cheeks burning.

“Sorry.”

But I could still feel the stranger watching. The awareness of it moved across my skin like fingertips. When Graham turned to shake someone’s hand, I looked again.

The man was still staring. This time, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Recognition hidden in an almost smile.

My pulse stumbled hard in my throat. I should have looked away. Instead, warmth gathered damp between my legs.

God.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

Graham’s arm tightened around me like a shackle. “We’re leaving soon. You’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

I licked my dry lips. “Of course…”

He guided me toward the exit, hand fixed at my back. I looked over my shoulder one last time. The stranger hadn’t moved. His eyes followed me through the crowd with quiet focus, steady enough to make heat crawl beneath my skin all over again.

For the first time in years, I didn’t feel invisible.

I felt noticed.

Wanted.

Possessed.

And it terrified me how much I liked it.

——

The town car smelled like leather and Graham’s cologne—something with sandalwood and musk. It irritated my nose. I angled my head to politely stare out of the tinted window. Graham liked privacy.

I kept my hands folded in my lap, trying to ignore the ache the stranger had left behind. My thighs shifted together again.

He’d undone me with a glance.

Graham’s driver kept his eyes on the road like he always did. Smart man. He knew better than to look at me.

“You embarrassed me tonight,” Graham said the second the door shut.

His voice was low, almost conversational, which was always worse than yelling.

“Staring off into space like some brainless doll. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry.” The words came automatically now.

He grabbed my chin, forcing my face toward him. His fingers dug in hard enough that I knew I’d have fresh marks by morning.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

I met his eyes. Cold blue. Familiar. Safe in the worst possible way.

“You think anyone else would put up with your shit, Ana? The moods? The silence? Your own family doesn’t even want you anymore. I’m the only one left.”

His eyes hooked on my lips. I knew what that meant—knew he was getting off on this.

His thumb brushed my lower lip, almost tenderly. “Say it.”

“You’re the only one left,” I whispered.

He released me with a satisfied grunt and leaned back, scrolling through his phone like I no longer existed.

I turned my face to the window again, watching the city lights blur. But I wasn’t seeing them. I was seeing him.

Dark hair. Sharp jaw. That steady stare—like he knew exactly how wet I’d gotten from nothing but eye contact.

My pulse throbbed low and insistent. I shifted in my seat. The silk of my gown whispered against my skin and I imagined the stranger’s hands. Bigger. Rougher. Sliding up my thigh under the dress, fingers finding me, growling approval against my ear.

“You’re smiling.” Graham’s voice cut through the fantasy. “Thinking about someone?”

My stomach clenched. I forced my mouth flat.

“Just you.”

“Yeah, sure.” He laughed softly. Cruelly. “You’ve been acting strange the last couple weeks. If I find out you’re talking to someone behind my back—”

“I’m not!” I cut my eyes to him.

His hand closed around my knee, squeezing hard enough to hurt.

“Good. Because you’re mine, Ana.” His fingers flexed once before releasing me. “Don’t forget who you belong to.”

How could I when he kept reminding me?

The rest of the ride was wrapped in silence.

I kept my eyes on the passing streets, but my mind stayed in that ballroom. I wondered what that stranger’s voice sounded like. What I might find under his tux.

Whether he’d be gentle at first—

—or take exactly what he wanted.

By the time the car pulled into the long driveway of Graham’s sleek modern house, I was flushed, ashamed, and aching with tension I didn’t know what to do with.

Graham didn’t wait for the driver to open the door. He yanked me out himself, fingers tight around my wrist as we walked up the path. The house was cold when we stepped inside.

Always cold.

He released me abruptly. I stumbled hard and nearly hit the floor.

“Bedroom,” he ordered, already loosening his tie. “Shower first. You smell like other people’s perfume.”

I nodded and headed upstairs, heels clicking sharply against the marble floors. The second I closed the bathroom door behind me, I sagged against it and let out a shaky breath.

My hand drifted down instantly—

Fingers pressed between my thighs over the silk of my dress, biting hard into my lower lip as those dark eyes flashed through my mind again.

One look.

That was all it took.

One look and I was ruined for the rest of the night.

A sharp bang rattled the door.

I sucked in a breath, hands recoiling from myself.

“Don’t take too long. I want you naked and waiting when I get back upstairs.”

“Okay.”

I turned on the shower and stepped beneath the hot spray, letting the water pound against my skin.

I didn’t know his name.

I didn’t know anything about him.

Somehow that made it better and worse all at once. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt anything other than numb.

It was exhilarating.

And I wanted more.

CHAPTER TWO

Monday—January 23rd, 2023

The morning after the gala, my body still remembered his eyes.

I told myself I was only going to the coffee shop because it was convenient. Graham’s office building loomed two blocks away, and this particular café was where all the men from his firm liked to congregate.

Overpriced lattes.

Exposed brick.

A rotating cast of pretty college girls behind the counter in tight shirts.

The boys came here like it was part of their regular workday.

The pretty blonde barista with eyes too large for her face stared at me while I studied the menu. Graham didn’t like me having sugar, but I was reasonably confident he couldn’t pull itemized receipts from the credit card company.

Still—

“Uh… skinny caramel macchiato—”

“Hot or iced?” she interrupted, eyes staring through me.

“Iced, I guess—large—no, sorry. Small.”

She punched the order into the POS. “Seven fifty-three.”

Jesus Christ.

Expensive drink successfully acquired, I took a small table in the back and tried again to convince myself I wasn’t here because there was a microscopic chance the stranger from last night worked at Graham’s company.

That he might walk through those doors.

But if he did—

I was gross for hoping.

The gala had been a work event. Some charity thing for dogs—rescue shelters or service animals…?

I couldn’t remember. I’d been too busy trying not to upset Graham.

He probably didn’t work there.

My nails tapped against the plastic-lidded cup in my hand. He was probably someone’s husband. Some woman’s date.

God, I’m the worst—what kind of person got wet over a stranger while her fiancé stood right beside her?

I was spiraling so hard I almost missed the bell above the café door.

He walked in.

Same dark hair, sharp jaw, that quiet, unsettling stillness.

Today, he wore a charcoal suit, no tie, top button undone at his throat. Effortless. Controlled.

He scanned the menu board once, then pulled out his phone like the rest of the world barely existed.

I wanted him to smile again.

He didn’t even glance at the baristas. While the other men from Graham’s office practically drooled over the blonde at the register, he stayed focused on his screen, calm and unreadable.

My mouth went dry.

I abandoned my untouched drink and drifted closer to the pickup counter, pretending to check my own phone. My fingers were shaking as I swiped through Instagram.

Don’t be obvious. Don’t be crazy. Leave—go home before you embarrass yourself!

His name was called he glanced to the counter where the barista slid a cup forward.

“Cole. Double espresso.”

The name hit me like a spark. Cole. I rolled it around silently in my head. Tasting it.

Cole what? Cole something.

I stepped forward at the exact same moment he did.

Our hands closed around the same cup.

For a second we both froze. His fingers brushed mine—warm and electric. That same visceral pull from last night slammed into me harder. My breath caught.

He looked down at me.

Would he recognize me?

Would he—

Nothing.

His eyes were flat. Expression stoic. No flicker of recognition. Heat flushed up my neck.

He didn’t remember me at all.

“Are you Cole?” he asked.

His voice was even better than I’d imagined—low and smooth, roughened slightly around the edges in a way that made heat twist low in my stomach.

“No—”

The word squeaked out of me.

One corner of his mouth curved, just like it had last night.

“Then let go,” he said.

“I—” My voice cracked.

I should have pulled my hand away. I should have apologized and walked out.

Instead I stood there staring at him like an idiot, painfully aware of how close we were. How good he smelled.

I was like a damn corpse letting his fingers rest against mine, the heat of him sinking into my dead flesh.

“Ma’am.” The barista snapped through our moment. Her pretty brows were turned down. “That’s not your drink.”

I let go of the cup. Dragged my eyes from Cole to her. She jerked her chin behind me. I looked over my shoulder. My untouched caramel macchiato sat abandoned on the table by the window, condensation dripping slowly down the plastic cup.

A quiet sound rumbled in Cole’s throat. “Hmm.”

Amusement.

I stared up at him, heart beating like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf. Or a mouse cornered by a cat. No, a fish swimming into the mouth of a shark—

He cocked a single eyebrow.

I was undone immediately.

I’d lingered.

Jesus help me, the man probably thought I was insane or an idiot or—

“Oh, gosh!” I blurted. “Of course—right—so sorry!”

A string of unintelligible words continued to tumble from my mouth as I backed away to safety.

He watched a moment longer. “Enjoy your coffee.”

Then he turned and walked out. Just like that.

The bell above the café door jingled softly behind him, leaving me standing there flushed and overheated beside a macchiato I never wanted.

Cole.

I was absolutely going to look him up the second I got home. Nothing good was going to come from it.

My feet carried me back to the counter. I didn’t care if Graham saw the extra charge. The blonde barista sighed when she saw me approach again, already reaching for the screen.

“What, uh—what did that man have? I’d like to order the same thing.”

I wanted to taste what he was tasting. Something to be just a little closer to him. The blonde’s face twisted like the whole thing was more embarrassing than it actually was.

“Double espresso.”

“Okay, yes. Double espresso, please.”

“Hot or iced?”

“Hot,” I said, lips pressing flat.

Was she stupid? I wanted his drink.

Obviously.

She rang me up without another word. I paid and drifted back to the counter. A few minutes later, I wrapped both hands around the small paper cup and took a sip. It burned my tongue and I closed my eyes.

Bitter. Strong. Nothing like the sugary nonsense I normally craved.

It tasted like him. Or maybe I just wanted it to.

He didn’t even recognize me.

The thought kept slamming into me like a brick. At the gala his stare had felt like a brand. Intimate and hot and like he saw straight through my skin. But today? Nothing. Just that indifferent—Then let go—like I was some clumsy stranger who’d grabbed the wrong cup.

Was I really that forgettable? Just another woman in a dress. A face in a crowd. The realization burned worse than the coffee.

I sat there for almost twenty minutes afterward, staring at the café door like a pathetic dog waiting for its owner to come back. He never did.

Eventually I forced myself outside.

The hour-long walk toward Graham’s neighborhood felt longer than usual. Every few blocks I took another sip of Cole’s espresso, letting the bitterness settle across my tongue. My thoughts spiraled uselessly around him.

His voice. His hands. That tiny smile.

Those eyes…

And humiliatingly enough, my body still remembered the brief brush of his fingers against mine. The space between my thighs felt slick.

By the time I reached the house I was aching.

Graham wasn’t home—thank God.

He had back-to-back meetings until at least six. I locked the door behind me, kicked off my heels, and went straight upstairs to our bedroom. The silk robe Graham liked me to wear still hung over the chair where I’d left it the night before. I’d put it away later.

I opened my laptop on the bed, hands trembling. Pulled up the browser and searched for Graham’s company.

Green River Partners—a private equity firm.

I hit CTRL+F and typed:

Cole.

The search returned nothing useful at first—until finally, on the third page of results, I found him.

Mr. Cole Parker.

Senior Vice President of Acquisitions.

Fancy.

Better than Graham.

His corporate headshot had him in a crisp black suit. Controlled expression. Eyes just as unreadable as I remembered.

“Cole has several years of investment experience collaborating with multiple companies. He previously worked in mergers & acquisitions at Blue Thumb Industries. Prior to joining BTI, Cole worked in credit analysis and portfolio management at Dervas Advisors which managed over $100 billion in investment capital at the time. Cole received a BBA in Finance with honors from Marquette University and is a Chartered Financial Analyst.”

I blew out a breath. He was smart.

Of course he was…

I brought up another tab, Googled his name and our city.

Nothing.

I tried a few more variations before giving up. No social media—not even a damned LinkedIn.

It felt strangely unfair. I just wanted to know him. He owed me that.

But… His name was too common in a city too big.

I clicked back on his GRP profile.

God, help me.

He was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made stupid girls like me do stupid things.

I stared at the exposed skin of his neck. The masculine shape of his jawline. Those dark fucking eyes that had pierced through me last night.

What was he hiding from me under that suit?

My hand slid under the hem of my skirt before I could stop. I was soaked. Humiliatingly so. Two strokes and I was already gasping. I kept staring at his photo while I rubbed circles over my clit, biting my lip so hard it hurt.

He didn’t even remember me.

The thought should have killed the fantasy. Instead it twisted something darker and hotter inside me. I imagined him walking back into the coffee shop, seeing me with my hand between my legs, knowing exactly what he’d done to me without even trying.

I came hard, hips jerking against my fingers, his name silent on my tongue.

Afterward I lay there panting, staring at the ceiling. The shame hit like ice water.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I’d just gotten off thinking about a man who barely knew I existed. While wearing the engagement ring Graham had given me. In Graham’s house. In the bed Graham paid for.

Fuck.

I was disgusting.

Pathetic. Broken.

And the worst part?

I already knew I’d do it again tonight.

I deleted my search history, closed the laptop and walked into the bathroom to wash my hands. The taste of Cole’s espresso still lingered on my tongue—bitter and addictive.

Just like him.