“This isn’t enough for me.” I’m mumbling, but I’m sure he hears me. “I need things from you that you can’t, or at least won’t, give me.”

His fist hits the conference table we made love on. I can only imagine his frustration. Here he is, a man with countless money, resources, and charm. And he can’t hang on to the only woman he apparently wants.

You say you can change our situation, Ian, but I’m not too sure about that. I wish you could, though.

I wish I could be content with being the only switch.

“I’m not going to ask you to change who you are.” My hand rests on his arm, trying to reassure him, but it’s probably not enough. “You didn’t ask me to change who I was. You saw something inside of me and helped me realize it. For that, I thank you, I guess. Although I’m not sure I could do that with any other man.”

Our eyes meet in the dark.

“It’s not fair, right? We should be able to be together. And yet… how happy could I be, and for how long? What kind of pressure would I put you under? It’s not fair to you or me. It’s not fair to us.”

“So, what?” Ian turns to me. Under usual circumstances, I would laugh at how he’s still hanging out of his trousers, but I only want to hold him. “We break up because of something as stupid as that?”

“It’s not stupid, and you know it.”

Ian embraces me, his scent making me feel better for a single moment. This should be enough. Him, me, our bodies. Even if I never submitted to him again and we pursued a vanilla relationship, I would still crave. Even if we conceded to other lovers in the kink scene, we would get jealous. We’re both people built for monogamy, even when it comes to kink.

Why, God?

“Don’t leave me.” Ian squeezes me. “I don’t want to be without you for another day.”

I gently push myself away. “I’m not leaving. It was foolish of me, though, to succumb to my desires for you so easily. This is going to be hard to say, but I think it’s best if we don’t get as heavy as we were before. I’m not breaking up with you. I’m not saying it’s never going to work, but we need to wait until we’re clearheaded enough to deal with this rationally.”

Haha, we both know that I’m full of shit.

Something pierces my hand as I pick up my jewels. “Love won’t save us,” I mutter.

“Love should always be enough. It works for…”

I look at him, waiting for him to say “poor people.”

“Because sometimes that’s all a person has. We’re not like that. Nobody in our families has been like that for generations. We’re blessed in that regard, but love won’t stop us from having tension we can’t resolve.”

“You keep saying that, but…”

I open the conference room door, watching Ian stuff himself back in his pants before the light hits him. “I’ll see you in a few.”

The door closes, and I walk straight for the nearest restroom. I don’t meet the gaze of anyone I pass. I don’t think of anything. I can’t afford to think of anything. It’s all a matter of fact as I clean myself up in the bathroom and put my hair back up, presenting myself to the ball attendees as nothing more than Kathryn Alison, professional.

Not Kathryn Alison, woman smitten and in love.

Fate. Fuck it.

Chapter 19

IAN

“Don’t look so fucking glum,” my father says, shoving another scotch in my direction. “I need you to be on your best game this month. Besides, I have it worse than you. I don’t know what you’re pouting about, but I win.”

Thanks, Dad.

I’m home, although I’m seriously dreading it now. My father’s office smells and looks the same as it did when I was a kid. Mahogany walls and furniture. Piles of folders, books, and God knows what else that are meticulously organized in their chaos. The only clear spaces outside of the floor are a couple of chairs and the couch I’m sitting in. A never-ending supply of scotch and brandy flows freely.

I can smell Stephanie May’s perfume.

“Women,” I mutter into my glass. “That Kathryn Alison is going to be the death of me.”

That’s all I want to say about that, and my father is so self-absorbed that it doesn’t matter anyway. He’s pacing in front of me, downing glass after glass until he becomes tipsy enough to slouch against his desk.

“This hotel is going to be the death of me.”

“I don’t know why. Everything has gone off without a hitch.” We’ve been open a few days. Outside of some minor hiccups that come with any establishment, it’s merely a matter of following protocol and getting employees settled into their new roles. So far, guests have enjoyed the amenities and the styling we’ve chosen. Reviewers are praising our taste.

We Mathers should be celebrating, not acting like children.

“It’s Crow,” my father finally says. “He’s gone off the map. Nobody can get a hold of him, and we sure as fuck never got the money he promised us.”

I get another drink.

“Fifteen million. That’s how much we need to transfer by the end of next week.” My father chuckles, but there’s nothing reassuring or jovial in the way he acts. He’s about to lose his damned mind. “Don’t suppose you’ve got fifteen million dollars collecting dust somewhere, son.”

“Hardly.” Tale as old as time. I’m loaded, but it’s not like I can go out and extract fifteen mil from my account while not batting an eyelash. Sounds like the situation our friend Henry Warren found himself in a few months ago. Except I don’t have a BDSM auction to offer myself to. “I could spare up to five, perhaps, but I’m still waiting to earn back on my initial investment.” Wanna know how much that was? Go on, guess.

Twenty-five million. Technically, I invested more than my father.

If we hadn’t been in such a hurry to remodel and saved money that way, I could’ve spared fifteen. Maybe even twenty. However, I’m in the hole on this project, even if we’re projected to make it back within a year.

“We have to find some way to get that money.” Squeaks enter the air as my father sinks into his desk chair. While many things haven’t changed in this office over the years, he has gotten older. Graying hair. Wrinkles. A paunch. Money can’t buy a man his youth back. Can’t wait until that’s me. “I’ve talked to your mother already, and I don’t think it’s coming from her. She’s still mad at me.”

“Wonder why.”

“Don’t start. Just remember you get your inability to deal with women from me.”

“Excuse me…”

“It’s a family curse, son.” Papers flutter to the floor as my father kicks his feet up on the desk. “Your grandfather, God rest him, went through three wives and as many long-term mistresses. Not including the ones who turned into wives.”

I’ve heard this story before. Think I’ll close my eyes and take a nap.

“So don’t fret too much if you find yourself unable to keep a woman in bed. These days you don’t even have to marry one. Fuck it, who cares about bloodlines. I’m not attached to ours. Adopt a kid to make sure we have an heir. You can hire a nanny to take care of it. Make sure she’s hot, though. You’ll probably be fucking her.”

I open my eyes and glare at him.

He points at me. “I never fucked your nanny.”

“Only my ex-girlfriends.”

“I’ve explained that to you how many times now?”

“Please don’t marry her.” I don’t need my stepmother to be a woman who gave me a blowjob in public and then heard me call her the wrong name when I came inside her. Nope.

Not to mention, a woman almost ten years younger than me. Although that would be expected around here and knowing both of my parents.

“Caroline isn’t going to give me money,” my father continues. “And neither are any of our other investors. I’ve already talked to Spencer. He’s stretched thin with his other projects and donations. Caught him at the wrong time of year.”