“You didn’t finish your phone call,” I breathed, as he dragged my panties down my legs.

“Lie back and spread your legs.”

“Aren’t you going to kiss me first?” I blinked at him.

My heart burned when he actually did it. He grasped the back of my neck and pressed his mouth to mine, our tongues sliding against each other. A deep, empty ache pulsed between my thighs, and I knew of only one thing that would ease it. I moaned, dug my fingers into his hair, and kissed him deeper.

“So greedy,” he murmured against my lips.

His hand slid between my legs. When he pushed two fingers inside me, I groaned and dropped my head back.

He moved his lips to my neck and let out a rough sound. “You’re soaked.” He nipped my throat like he was angry with me for it. Slipping his fingers out of me, he spread my arousal around. Then, he grasped the backs of my thighs, jerked them up to his shoulders, and pressed his face between my legs.

I dropped back to the counter and closed my eyes as pleasure tore through me, filling my blood with an inferno. I shuddered and writhed as he licked and sucked a path around my clit, until I was so desperate, I’d sell my firstborn to get what I wanted. I banged my head lightly on the countertop, moaning, letting out frustrated, needy breaths.

He pulled back. “Tell me why you used at that dinner party.”

Now, I knew the bastard’s endgame.

“God, I hate you,” I gasped.

He didn’t respond because he was back to torturing me.

“My papà called me,” I blurted. “I have to go home to Chicago for my cousin’s wedding.”

I was a weak, weak woman.

“When?”

“Saturday.” I’d avoided thinking about it for as long as I could, but it was here now. I knew if I didn’t show my papà would come to drag me there, just as he’d said he would.

All it took for the orgasm to rock me hard was for his mouth to move over my clit and suck. Light shot behind my eyes, heat tightening in my core and releasing. I moaned, burying my fingers in his hair as I rode the rest of the waves.

He pulled back, eyes dark, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

The action was so primal and hot a fresh wave of lust flared inside me. I suddenly wanted him inside me so badly I couldn’t think about anything else. I slid off the counter, ran my hand across his already hard erection, and kissed his chest through his shirt.

A small shudder ran through him. He fisted a hand in my hair and pulled my gaze up to his.

“I’m not going to fuck you tonight. I don’t have time.”

My expression fell.

For the simple fact of being denied him. But there was something deeper involved as well. If I didn’t get this over with him now, I’d never be over him enough to move on, to find another man who interested me.

I’d forgotten an important fact while sifting through my feelings. Christian was so perceptive he might as well be a mind reader. And I was sure he’d read my thoughts on my face.

His eyes narrowed on me before he reached for his suit jacket resting on the back of an island chair. “You been listening to gossip?”

I chewed my lip. “Sometimes, gossip just falls into your lap . . .”

He slipped his jacket on, in a casual yet kind of scary way. “Do you believe it?”

My pulse wavered like a plucked string. I didn’t say a word, because I didn’t need to for him to know that I did.

He adjusted his cuffs, eyes focused on his task, but something dark was coiling in him like rope.

My stomach turned cold. I went to take a step back but didn’t make it. A gasp of fear escaped me when his hand shot out and grabbed me by the throat. I’d been conditioned to expect the worst from men from a young age, and my heart thundered in my chest as I waited for what he would do.

I expected pain.

So much so, shock and warmth rocked me at my center when he pulled me closer by the throat and kissed me. A sweet pull on my lips and then a soft bite of teeth.

He pressed his lips to my ear, running his thumb across the fluttering pulse in my throat. “I’ll say when this is over, Gianna.”

He released me, and I turned to watch him head toward the door.

“I’m coming with you Saturday.”

I couldn’t even protest because I was still wide-eyed and shaken from the moment before.

“We’ll leave at nine,” he told me.

And then he shut the door behind him.

MY EYES NARROWED. “WHAT ARE you wearing?”

Gianna looked down at her modest gray cocktail dress and short white heels while unsuccessfully trying to fix a tendril of hair that had escaped her French bun. Then, she looked me in the eye and said, “Isn’t it obvious? I’m trying to mold myself into a woman you could love.”

I didn’t know why the sarcasm in her voice annoyed the hell out of me.

“No.”

She raised a brow. “No?”

“That’s what I said, Gianna. Go put on something else.”

She glared at me as she tried to push that unruly piece of hair back once more. That was when I noticed the small tremor in her hand. She was nervous. I hadn’t liked this outfit from the beginning, but now I fucking hated it.

I smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from my jacket sleeve. “My time is precious, and you’re wasting it. You have five minutes to go change.”

She scoffed. “And what would you like to see me in, Your Highness?”

My bed, spread-eagled and naked.

“What you would normally wear to a wedding your father wasn’t attending.”

She stared me down for a moment, and, when she realized she wasn’t going to win, she turned around in a huff. But I didn’t miss a hint of a smile on that pretty mouth of hers before she disappeared into her apartment.

She came back out ten minutes later in a sequined red gown that sparkled under the lights like a disco ball. A slit in the dress revealed her smooth tanned leg and six-inch heels. The sight sent a rush of heat to my groin.

She cocked a brow that dared me to say something.

The woman had no idea.

She thought I liked her.

I’d gone out of my way and followed her around for goddamn years just to look at her. I’d insulted her just to hear her smoky voice and witty response. And now, after my move to Seattle, it was hard to believe she was here in front of me. That I could reach out and touch her. That she would let me. It didn’t matter if she dressed like a 1970s drug lord’s wife or a die-hard Ariana Grande fan—nothing could make me forget her. What was worse was now, I had the memory of her looking up at me from her knees. That image had burned itself so deep beneath my skin I’d never get it out.

As much as I wanted to keep her, I knew I shouldn’t.

I couldn’t give her everything she’d ask of me.

I was going to take her to this wedding, finish my business with Sergei, and then return to Seattle. Nonetheless, every time I thought about leaving, my collar felt too tight, the air too thick to breathe. I didn’t know if I could physically do it.

“Did you bedazzle it yourself?” I asked, watching the elevator doors as we descended to the lobby.

She sighed and reached out to shove me or do something else ridiculous, but I grabbed her hand before she could make contact.