He dropped me to my feet in front of my apartment. Took the keys from my hand and, annoyingly, unlocked the door in a single try.

“Go find a swimsuit that covers your ass.”

I put my hands on my hips defiantly. “Those aren’t in style anymore.”

“We both know you don’t follow fashion trends.”

“Since when do you regulate what I wear?”

“Since you’ve clearly lost the competence to do it yourself.”

I opened my mouth, but before I could protest again, he cut me off with that lord-and-master tone.

“It’s not happening, Gianna.”

“Fine,” I snapped, but I was only listening because the swimsuit was ridiculously risqué, with only a thong for bottoms. Sometimes, I thought I did things just to stir up trouble. Just add it to my list of daddy issues.

Spinning around, I headed to my room, pulling off my bikini top and dropping it in the hallway on the way. His gaze ran down my naked back, cool and electric, like the glide of ice on my skin.

When I returned in a new bathing suit, it was to find him looking around my apartment with distaste. I’d gotten most of the boxes unpacked and put away this week, so I was a little upset I didn’t get Christian’s approval. Not.

“You’ve thoroughly ruined the place, haven’t you?”

“If you mean I’ve given it some life, then yes.” I adjusted my boob in the neon orange one-piece. “Ready?”

He gestured for me to spin around, and, with a roll of my eyes, I did. The suit wasn’t modest either, with slits up the sides, but he seemed to approve—if not a bit reluctantly.

We took the elevator together, and my body played havoc on me, remembering how it’d felt to be touched by him. The dirty things he’d said to me. He was only inches away; it would take nothing to close the space between us. Something electrifying played in my veins. Made me dizzy.

“You look like a traffic cone,” he told me.

As we passed a potted tree in the lobby, I pushed him into it. He hadn’t been expecting it—he actually took a step to the side. Satisfaction filled me at the giant leaf that had the audacity to smack him in the head.

He shot me an annoyed glance.

I rolled my eyes. “Gosh, you’re so stuffy. I bet you’ve never done anything silly in your life. You really need to loosen—”

He shoved me into a towel cart. It was half-hearted because I was able to catch myself before I hit it.

“Close, but no cigarette,” I told him, breathless at the playfulness, before we split off in separate directions.

His eyes lit with amusement. “No cigar.”

“GET RID OF HER,” I growled as soon as Nico opened the door.

He leaned an arm against the doorframe and rubbed a hand across his mouth that was fighting off a grin. “Not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit. I want Gianna out of my building by tomorrow morning. And if you don’t think I’m serious, I’ll find a way to make it crystal fucking clear, Ace.” My voice was cold, but I let it warm around the edges suggestively when I said, “How’s your wife?”

His eyes flashed, and he sucked his teeth. “You know, if anyone else said that to me, I’d goddamn kill them. But I’ll make a concession on your account, considering I own the little nightmare of a woman you’re so desperate to fuck. Understandable you’d be a little touchy.” His voice was dark and mocking. “Not exactly off to the best start, but maybe, if you play your cards right from here on out, I’ll let you have her when Richard passes.”

Irritation unfurled in my chest. My hand twitched but I wouldn’t let myself react. I hadn’t had to throw a punch in years, and I wouldn’t start now—over a woman, no less.

“If I wanted her, I’d have her already.”

He let out an amused breath. “You know, you and I—we’re a lot more alike than you think, Allister.”

“Doubtful.”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Gianna is a headache when she’s married, but single? She’s more trouble than she’s worth. I was giving you the courtesy of working something out with me, but if you don’t want her . . . there are plenty of men who’d be interested.”

“I’m not so easily manipulated,” I said, not letting myself take his bait on a hook.

“I’m just being practical, Allister. She’s a liability. And this time, I’ll make sure her new husband is spry enough to keep her in line.”

Spry enough to fuck her, was the first thought that came to mind.

Fire burned in my blood, and I saw red spots at just the idea of some other man touching her, pushing his way between her legs.

“I want her out of my building,” I bit out, because I couldn’t think about Gianna with another man for another second without doing something crazy—like actually going through with Ace’s absurd proposal and forcing her to marry me.

“Why don’t you cut your losses and check into a hotel? Or are their sheets not a high enough thread count for you?”

I hated hotels. The housekeeping always reorganized my shit, went through my things, and left behind their phone numbers outlined with a goddamned heart.

I refused to stay in a hotel because I refused to let Gianna know how deeply she was under my skin. I couldn’t even look at the woman, let alone be near her, without fighting the urge to do things I probably shouldn’t. Like tie her to my bed and make her come, over, and over again, just so I could watch the fire go soft in her eyes.

Nonetheless, I wasn’t going to last much longer with Gianna running around in a tiny thong bikini. But, thankfully, business should only keep me in New York for a couple more weeks.

I was in the middle of negotiations with Aleksandra Popova’s father, a Russian politician, during his stay in the States. But it seemed he was more old-fashioned than I’d thought, and he was pushing his daughter on me like an incentive. It was an arrangement I was seriously considering. Aleksandra was beautiful, traditional, and composed. She wouldn’t challenge me, ask me questions about my past, or dig her way into my business. She’d make the quintessential housewife. It would be a good match, even if I had to think about Gianna when I fucked her.

I adjusted my cufflinks. “Use Gianna to fuck with me again, Ace, and business between us is going to be a lot different. Understood?”

A corner of his lips lifted. “Never thought a woman could come between us, Allister. Say, you wouldn’t know anything about my surveillance camera in and outside the club being wiped clean last Sunday, would you?”

“Must have been a power outage.”

“Must have been,” he drawled. “What a shame, though. A whole lot of men would have paid to see Gianna in that get-up of hers.” He tsked in feigned disappointment, and anger burned my throat.

I turned to leave, but . . . fuck it. “One last thing.”

“Yeah?”

When I turned to face him, I punched the smirk right off the fucker’s face.

Ace wiped at the blood on his bottom lip, his eyes lit with amusement. “I guess this makes us even, Allister.”