I stare at my drink, squinting one eye and estimating that there might be a couple more ounces left to finish. A sigh escapes my lips when I promptly remember I bought the whole bottle. I’m certainly no champagne connoisseur, but this stuff doesn’t taste cheap.

I’m going to be here a while.

I can’t just skit out the door dragging my dignity behind me like I did at RJM Corporation.

“My apologies.” I don’t mean it. I demolish the rest of my drink like I’m an old pro and nod at Matt before turning to Dane again. I know how to play this game. I know how to tell people what they want to hear to bandage an awkward situation. It’s practically my way of life at home, and it works like a charm with my father. “My mind must be elsewhere today. I didn’t intend to offend you.”

“You didn’t offend me.”

He’s slipping under my skin with skilled finesse, arrogance and all.

“Good to hear.” I slide my empty glass toward Matt. I want another even though this one’s already snaking through me faster than I could’ve anticipated. I’m two seconds away from telling him to bother someone else if only there were someone else around for him to bother. “If you don’t mind.”

I force a tight-lipped smile and nod toward the T.V., trying desperately to ignore the obnoxious amount of power this stranger wields in his unrelenting stare.

Matt refills my drink, pouring clear to the top.

Numb warmth invades my cheeks at the same time.

This must be what a buzz feels like.

“So what exactly are you celebrating today?” Dane asks. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen a young woman drinking champagne at eleven o’clock on a Tuesday.”

“New job.” I refuse to make eye contact. I’m disengaging and hoping it’s only a matter of time before he takes the hint.

“Where?”

I swallow hard and clear my throat lightly.

Of course he would ask that.

“Mutchler Corporation.”

His head tilts and his lips jut for a second. “Ah. Working for Randy?”

My heart sputters to a stop.

“Right.” I force a coolness in my tone that implies I wholeheartedly believe my own lies.

“What will you be doing at RJM?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.” My brows lift as my eyes dart to him, desperate to gauge whether or not he’s buying this. “It’s not exactly official yet. Nothing’s been signed. The terms and titles are private. You know how that goes.”

He can’t argue the details if I give him none.

His palm rakes across the underside of his smooth, cleft chin as the corners of his mouth lift enough to show a hint of dimples. “I know exactly how that goes. I know Randy quite well. We run in the same…circles.”

My cheeks flood with red, and I tilt my head down just enough that my hair covers them. Funny how lying could make me feel so powerful and invincible a second ago, and then this man so easily flips it all on its side.

“Randy mentioned he was going to be hiring a…concierge.” Dane holds a wicked flash in his steely gaze. “What’s a girl like you doing taking a job like that?”

“It sounded like an interesting job.” I sweep my hair from my shoulder and take another slow sip. “I guess I was the most qualified applicant.”

Vagueness and ambiguity fuels this conversation though I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this running.

“You don’t want to work for Randy,” he says, leaning into me. He flashes a white smile, the first one I’ve seen on him since he walked in here. My attraction to him, as much as I try to fight it, soars off the charts for a moment. “Trust me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you should be working for me.”

I lean away, a laugh bubbling in my balled stomach. “You don’t mince words, do you?”

“I’m a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to go after it.”

“Are you proposing that I work for you instead?”

“I’m demanding that you not work for Randy.” His gaze floods my veins with warmth and overruns my thought process for a moment. “You’re all wrong for him. Believe me when I tell you that.”

“Are you offering me a job?”

I came to the city for a job. I’m determined to leave with one.

At any cost.

“It depends,” he says. “Can you offer me the same services, terms, and agreements you were going to offer Randy as his concierge?”

“Of course.” I fight the rush of crimson that tries to consume my entire body, never knowing it was possible to blush from head to toe. My gut tells me I’ve no idea what I’m agreeing to, but I have no other choice. Flipping burgers back home and babysitting for local neighborhood families isn’t going to fill my bank account with the kind of money I need to secure my future and ensure I don’t end up married off to Cortland or any other polygamous asshole.

I need a real job, and this man is offering me one.

“When can you start?”

“Just like that, you’re hiring me?” I try to hide the excitement in my tone, but my words are rushed, and my lips are twisted into a smile. “You don’t want to interview me first? Check my references?”

“I don’t need to check your references. The fact that Randy Mutchler wanted you tells me all I need to know.” He leans back, cocking his elbow against the bar. Our bodies are perfectly aligned though I’m not sure about our intentions. “He’s a very particular man. I’m sure he’s run you through a battery of tests.”

Now would be a great time to tell him I’m a dirty, rotten liar.

“Can I think about it?” If I jump all over this chance, the way I want to, he’ll call my bluff, and this’ll all be over.

“What’s there to think about?” His dark brow rises while the other one slants.

“Salary. Benefits.”

Dane smirks. “Randy’s a cheap bastard. I can assure you anything he’s offered you will be paltry compared to my compensation package.”

My heart races and then pounds hard until I hear it whooshing in my ears.

“How much was he offering you?” His brows meet.

“Fifteen,” I say, meaning fifteen dollars per hour.

“I’ll give you twenty.” He doesn’t hesitate. “Twenty grand per month to start. It’s not negotiable.”

My entire being tenses as I try to play it cool. I’m screaming on the inside, jumping, flipping, and cartwheeling from here to the Catalina Islands.

“Twenty is fine.”

“You’ll start Monday.” There’s finality in his voice as if he’s signaling that this discussion is over, and it’s over because he says it is. His grey-blue eyes flicker and settle before he rises from his bar stool.

“And what is it I’ll be doing for you exactly?”

“Everything you were going to be doing for Randy.” He reaches into his left breast pocket and pulls out his card, our fingers grazing as we exchange the thick cardstock embossed with his company’s logo. His other hand works his wallet from his suit jacket. He turns for a moment to pull out a crisp, one-hundred dollar bill and presses it into the bar top. “Your champagne is on me. I’ll see you next week.”

TWO

BELLAMY

“I got the job.” I drop my bag on the kitchen island where two of my three mothers are chopping fruit for what looks like a bowl of ambrosia. My current state of excitement completely overrides the fact that I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into. “Just like I said I would.”

Summer, my father’s second wife, glances up at me before shooting a look at my mother, Jane. She says nothing but her look says it all. They disapprove of me wanting to work outside the house. The only reason my father agreed was because I suggested I could work for a few months to save up money for my future wedding, which he believes will be happening soon now that I’m courting Cortland. Ultimately, my mothers’ ideas of a woman’s role involve birthing babies and cleaning house while remaining faithful and loyal to their dominant husbands.

“That’s great, sweetie.” My mom’s voice is as fake as the red lipstick she wore at dinner when Cortland visited last week.