“You know how I feel, Felicity. God damn it!” As if that made any of this better. As if that erased her shame or changed anything.

He pulled his pants up and with a little adjusting managed to make his suit look neatly pressed as if he’d just put it on. Even his hair looked freshly combed and smooth, not a single hair out of place. She had no doubt how she looked though—like she’d just been fucked against a door.

He knew where this would lead them, how this would hurt her. Yet he did it anyway, he touched her. A tear she couldn’t contain slid down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb, his face softening.

“Don’t cry, sweets.”

She couldn’t stand the endearment. Not now, not when her whole heart was breaking.

The footsteps came closer for which she thanked the stars. It helped her to get her bearings and move, no easy feat after feeling him inside her body for the first time.

“Don’t ever touch me again,” she said, not meeting his eyes. She meant it and she knew he heard the conviction in her voice. He’d never touch her again after that. She was done.

Quickly, she slipped in the garage door. She knew she should flee but some sickness inside her made her pause outside the door. She stayed silent and listened.

“Ah, there you are. I didn’t know if you were here yet,” a warm, feminine voice said.

“Julianna, it’s good to see you.” She could hear the smile in Dom’s voice and knew it was forced. The sound of kissing was like a lethal blow to her heart. She staggered back a step as her heart stopped beating for one agonizing moment. She’d bet money that Julianna didn’t know that his smile was forced, the kiss not real.

She probably didn’t know anything about him and, if she did, it didn’t matter because no one loved Dom like she did. No one. Not even his Julianna, the woman he was to mate with—his bruid.

Another tear slid down her cheek. She wanted to sob but first she had to escape. She could never be around Dom again; no matter how much she loved him or what he promised. Yet, a part of her knew the thought was fruitless. He would never leave her alone now. He’d find her. He wouldn’t give up on her. It was in his nature.

But he didn’t love her.

And he was mating with another woman.

One month earlier

The blaring ring of the phone sent Felicity scampering down the hall to the kitchen. As soon as she neared it, her cat Hugo darted in front of her. With a cry, she jumped over the rascally feline but missed her footing as she came down. Her knee gave out as she landed awkwardly on her ankle, which sent her sprawling into the kitchen cabinet.

“Ouch, damn it!”

She inspected the damage and saw her knee had taken the brunt of the damage. Well, that and her cheap cabinet that now had a hole in it.

“Just great,” she muttered. “Thanks a lot, Hugo.”

The phone still blared. Fighting through the fiery pain throbbing in her knee, she reached for the wall-mounted phone and snatched it off its set.

“Hello?” she said, her voice as close to a growl as she could manage.

“Ms. Shaw?”

“Who is this?” Felicity quickly wracked her mind for any late bills she had. Crap, she could think of several.

“Is this Ms. Shaw?” the man pressed. He sounded bored and had an uppity, snobbish quality to his voice. It’s how she imagined an educated old professor might speak.

Felicity rolled her eyes. “Yes it is. Are you from the internet company? Listen, I know I’m late but I don’t have the money so just cancel my service again.”

For the past year and half this had been her life. At time it felt like a lot longer than that though. Sometimes having internet and sometimes having television, but mostly paying late fees to try to keep on the services. She’d go without if she could but she needed her internet for job hunting, internet shopping where she endlessly added some much-needed or much-wanted items to her shopping cart that never got purchased, and she needed her television big time. It was the only form of entertainment she had. Honestly.

“Ms. Shaw, my name is Ian Nevell. I am calling—”

Hugo jumped on the counter in front of her and began crying as if he was dying. “Raaur! Rrrraaarrr! Raaaaar!”

“Shut up, Hugo! I’m not giving you any wet food. You tripped me,” she hissed. The man on the phone cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to the call. “I’m sorry what was it you wanted?”

She gave Hugo a warning look then turned her back on him. “As I was saying, Ms. Shaw, I am calling on behalf of the Blackmoore family.”

“The-the Blackmoores?” Felicity’s eyes widened as her stomach plummeted. She’d applied for the gig of a lifetime there only a week ago, but she’d never thought in a million years she’d get a call back.

The man sighed wearily. “Yes, indeed, Ms. Shaw. The Blackmoore family is in need of an event planner and they have selected your resume for an interview. If you could bring your portfolio to the Blackmoore estate tonight at 7:30 you will meet with Mr. Dominic Blackmoore. He will judge your portfolio and deem whether or not you will suit the occasion. If you are chosen, pay and other benefits will be discussed then.”

Her eyes darted to the clock on her microwave. “But it’s already 6:30. That’s not enough time!” No way could she shower, dress, and make herself up in order to present herself to the likes of seeing a Blackmoore—the wealthiest, most blue-blooded vampires in society—in less than an hour.

But she needed a job so badly. She could hardly afford food anymore. She had to take a bite, literally, out of her friend Beth last week. It was the ultimate shame. To land a job the size of a Blackmoore event—she could practically see the dollar signs dancing around in her head. She could pay her bills, put some away in savings, and buy new clothes and shoes. Oh, and one of those new laptops she saw in a commercial since her computer loved to reboot on her when she wasn’t even using it. But what if they found out about her little lie? She bit her lip, running through the possibilities.

Another sigh on the line. “Ms. Shaw, are you coming or not?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be there!” She hung up, her mind already running a mile a minute.

She was in the shower, a toothbrush slammed between her teeth and shampoo in her barely-wet hair in under a minute. She ran a razor quickly over her calves; she didn’t have time to do the whole leg, and then hopped out of the shower. In what she deemed to be a very impressive time, she had on her nicest dress—a dark cherry red number with wide straps, a cinched in waist with a thin black belt with her conservative but pretty black heels. The ones that still looked new even though she’d bought them on sale two years ago. The dress said chic, modern, but professional. Exactly what an event planner for a Blackmoore event look like.

The sun had already set. She’d only been awake for two hours. She hated to rush like this because she couldn’t screw this up.

“Just wait ‘till Beth hears about this.” Her best friend and recent blood donor would scale the walls if she got this job, then insist she take her shopping.

Felicity snatched her portfolio off the kitchen the table, grabbed her purse from the hook behind the front door, and then stopped to check her surroundings. She couldn’t forget anything.

Mentally, she went over the list. Hair, done. Makeup, light but professional. Shoes, old but shiny. Purse not designer but not hand-me-down. Portfolio, in arm with résumés sitting inside.

Hugo sidled up to her, his back arching high and fur sticking out on end. “Rrraaawwr,” he purred sweetly.

“Not now baby, momma’s got a job interview.”

He looked up at her, cocked his head to the side. “Raawr?”

Felicity shook her head. Her blown dry hair felt a bit coarse because she’d forgotten to condition it in her rush, but oh well. A month, or even a week from now she could be cashing such a big check she could go to the salon and get one of those deep conditioning treatments. A soft sigh escaped her at the thought.