PART 1

Chapter 1

MAYFIELD REALTIES WAS situated on the sixtieth floor of Trump Tower in one of the most popular business districts of New York City. I was standing in front of the large windows in my new office, watching the busy street below. Hundreds of people passing by, barely acknowledging each other. Soon forgotten. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, something was always happening. I could feel their rush of excitement, the dread, the stress, the anticipation, and their uncertainty whether a particular day would turn into an episode of a comedy, a tragedy, or anything in between. I liked the idea of them chasing their dreams and their futures. Just the way I had once been. Ever since I was hired by Jett Mayfield, I had entered a whirlwind of chaos. I had met the man of my dreams in the city of my dreams. New York, the city that never sleeps, was my home; Jett was the man I wanted to be with, and while everything seemed perfect, I felt something was missing: the answers to my questions about the Lucazzone estate I was about to inherit. Even though I had promised Jett I’d stay in NY with him, because it was the only way he could protect me from them, I felt no peace knowing that people were after me.

A soft knock on the door made me flinch. A second later, Emma’s head appeared in the doorway. Her cagey glance told me she hadn’t yet fully digested the fact that I had been promoted from mere assistant to a higher position than hers. We had been close to becoming friends when I started working at Mayfield Realties. Now she was distancing herself, which I attributed to my change in position. The past two weeks she had been eyeing me with suspicion, her previous friendliness replaced by badly disguised arrogance.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important, Brooke?” Her voice was cold and sarcastic as her glance swept over me standing at the window. She was holding a huge bouquet of red roses decorated with pearls in between their velvet petals. I gaped at the rich burgundy color and the exquisite perfection of the petals.

She placed the rose bouquet on my desk. “Mr. Mayfield asked me to personally take these to you.”

Emphasis on “personally,” as if the word on its own conveyed a secret meaning.

I felt myself blushing at hearing Jett’s name.

I wondered if she knew I was dating the CEO of Mayfield Realties. As if sensing my thoughts, she turned, her light blue eyes piercing through me with disdain and something else.

Envy.

Pure, undiluted envy.

The kind that could turn melting lava into ice. If looks could kill.

I groaned inwardly. Of course Emma knew. She wasn’t stupid, just like the rest of the company’s NY headquarters. In the last two weeks, Jett and I had tried to keep our contact at work limited to a strictly professional level, but of course there were subtle signs: the way he touched the small of my back when he led me out of the room or the way his fingertips grazed my arm too long whenever he tried to get my attention during a meeting. Or maybe it was the way we had been sitting together—too close, too intimate—my frantic heart threatening to burst out of my chest with each beat. Surely, if I could hear it, then others might as well.

“Thanks,” I said, and watched her leave. The door closed behind her, and I was alone again. I retrieved the card tucked in between the roses, and opened it, my glance sweeping over Jett’s harried handwriting.

For my beautiful, pregnant girlfriend,

Jett

P.s. Thanks for the wild ride yesterday.

I smiled and turned the card around.

I’m in my office. We have a deal to go over.

Join me if you’re not too busy.

Ever since starting this position, Jett had involved me in various company deals, telling me he trusted my judgment. I had learned the ins and outs of his company, the projects they had been working on, dealing with the top clients and seeking out the most desirable properties. So, naturally, when Jett inquired if I wanted to go over a new deal, I was ready to jump at the opportunity. Not only did I enjoy working with him, to me this was another excuse to see him.

It had been hours since I last saw him, and already I missed him like crazy. Big needy girlfriend alert, but I couldn’t help it. I fished my mirror and lipstick out of my handbag to fix my makeup, and tucked a few stray strands of hair out of my face. Happy with the result, I grabbed my smartphone and acquisitions folder, and left my office. The folder contained all my research, notes on past and current deals, my schedule, and daily to-do list—in case Jett needed anything. I carried it with me at all times, not least because Jett wasn’t known for his patience. My stomach twisted into knots, and my knees began to shake with apprehension as I knocked on his door.

“Yeah,” his deep voice called out, betraying his irritation the way it always did at work. I had yet to get used to his briskness and one-syllable commands.

I opened his door and stepped in, catching my breath. He was sitting in his leather chair, his dark hair framing his face, the newspaper in his hands hiding his green eyes. His jacket was thrown carelessly on a visitor chair, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up, exposing his strong forearms. His shirt clung to his broad chest, leaving little to the imagination.

Sexy.

He looked like the kind of man you could be obsessed about. I never knew the meaning of the word “sexy” until I met Jett Mayfield.

Just looking at him, I had to force myself not to smile.

“Close the door.”

I followed his command. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.” Regarding him, I inched closer and placed the folder on his desk. He remained silent so I continued, filling the silence. “I’m done with the Colton estate deal. It’s all in the folder, ready for you to sign.” I pointed at the folder needlessly, waiting for him to look inside. Jett folded the newspaper and placed it on his desk, and stood, his intense gaze finally fixing on me. His expression was unreadable as usual, but there was something in his eyes. He was watching me, taking in my every movement, which made me nervous.

How could he remain so cool when my heart was fluttering in my chest, and I wasn’t unsure whether to jump into his arms or leap out the door?

“Anything specific you wanted to talk about?” I prompted.

Jett’s gaze remained glued to me.

Unreadable.

Unfazed.

Ever so slowly, he walked around his desk, his height both intimidating and arousing me. His lips curled into a dazzling smile. His green eyes sparkled, reminding me of a dark wild forest. I could stare into them forever and lose myself in their depths.

“What else do you have for me?” His deep voice was barely more than a whisper, caressing my senses like silk. His fingers clasped my chin, forcing my head up. I drew a shaky breath and held it, both mesmerized and terrified by his proximity. His thumb brushed my chin while his other hand traced my hips. His body moved against me, pinning me against the closed door, knocking the air out of my lungs. “I hope it’s more interesting than the deals I had to take care of when all I wanted to think about was all the different ways I’d like to fuck you.”

He was doing his sexy thing again without even trying.

“The file’s all I have for you,” I whispered, mortified by my sudden arousal. My body was like a button for him—easy to press, and the heat was on. Every cell of my body wanted him and protested whenever my brain tried to keep at bay the cascade of lust wreaking havoc within me.

“You sure? Because I think you’re missing something.” His hand traveled south, past my abdomen.

“I recall a deal,” Jett whispered in my ear, sensing my confusion. And then his lips were on my neck, biting, nibbling, turning millions of my sense buds into sparks. His hands cupped my ass. “Or should I say a bet? Someone’s about to lose and I want to claim my prize.”

My cheeks flamed.

Oh, God!

I’d completely forgotten that.

Ever since challenging me to a game of Spades in Italy, Jett had been delaying the inevitable. The most likely explanation I had was that he was afraid I’d win, because I was the best Spades player I knew, and I made no secret of it.

“Are you talking about our arrangement?” I pushed him away, but he didn’t budge. His touch became more focused. His hot breath continued to caress my skin as one hand traced the contours of my breasts over the thin fabric of my shirt. His mouth was so close to my lips, I could smell the faint aroma of coffee, mint, and his intoxicating scent.

“I’m talking about our bet, Brooke. Whoever wins the game gets to have whatever they want, and right now I’d love to tame you.”

A rush of excitement washed over me.

“You can’t tame me, because taming would imply I’ve surrendered, and as far as I know you haven’t won yet,” I whispered. “If you’re ready to lose, I’m challenging you today after work. Even though we’re dating and women are supposed to let their boyfriends have the upper hand, I’m not going to let you win.”

“Not after work…I want it now.” He laughed quietly into my ear. “Which is why I’ve set up a table outside. In the open, where I can be sure there’s no cheating.”

I slapped his arm in mock annoyance, ignoring the sudden urge to run my fingertips over his stubble. “I’d never cheat.”

“I know.” He winked. “But I’m not sure I wouldn’t.”

I raised my eyebrows, and his grin widened. He knew how I felt about cheating.

“I was talking about gaming, Brooke.” He laughed at my scowl, revealing perfect white teeth. “I’d cheat…to let you win, baby.”

I scowled again. “No cheating, Jett.”

He ignored my statement. His teeth grazed the sensitive spot behind my ear, then moved down my neck. Stifling a low moan, I waited a few seconds, and when no reply came, I added, “I’m serious, Jett. If you cheat—in any way—I’ll be pissed. I want you to give your best because it won’t be enough. I’ll still win.”

“Sure.” He laughed, and his hand tucked my shirt out of my skirt.

“Seriously?” I stopped his impudent movement before he reached my bra and shot him my most menacing glare, hoping my heavy breathing wasn’t giving away my excitement at the prospect of his hands roaming over my body. “You haven’t won yet.”

“I was just giving you a taste of foreplay.” Jett removed his hand and grimaced, almost disappointed. “A game of Spades, then. Are you really up for it?”

“More than you think.” I shot him my most self-assured grin. Soon the guy wouldn’t know what hit him. “You say when and where, and I’ll be there.”

“Then grab your stuff, Miss Stewart. Because we’re doing this now.” He picked up his jacket from his chair and a black leather bag from the couch, and ushered me out of his office.

Within minutes, we stepped into the cold afternoon air. Visitors and co-workers were gathered in groups, turning as we walked past. I smiled but paid them no attention because I couldn’t peel my eyes off the only person who mattered.

“Where are we going?” I asked Jett as he ushered me into a waiting taxi and communicated to the driver an unfamiliar address.