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ONE

AUDREY

“I’ve got rope in my trunk.” Violet slides a leather-bound cocktail menu toward me. “We could always kidnap you.”

I nearly choke on my water. “Why do you have rope in your trunk?”

Violet winks. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

Iris flips her wavy blonde hair over her shoulder.

“I’m with Violet on this one. We could just tie you up, throw you in the back of my Jeep, and drive to Mexico. Your mom would never find us.”

I can’t help but laugh. “You two are ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously amazing friends, you mean,” Iris corrects with a smile.

It’s Saturday night, and the three of us are squeezed into a curved leather booth at the Azure Lounge, the city’s most exclusive rooftop bar. The place is all glass and chrome, with floor-to-ceiling windows that showcase the glittering San Diego harbor thirty-two floors below.

“This place is insane,” I murmur, watching a yacht drift past in the distance. “How did you even get us a table?”

Iris waves her hand dismissively. “My cousin knows the manager. Plus, it’s your going-away party. I told them it was life or death.”

“Moving back to Wyoming isn’t death,” I protest.

“It might as well be.” Violet adjusts her designer glasses. “Especially in these circumstances.”

A server appears at our table. He’s tall, gorgeous, and probably an aspiring actor like half the staff in this city.

“Ladies, what can I get started for you tonight?”

Iris doesn’t even glance at the menu. “A Dirty Shirley for me, please. Extra dirty.”

“Me too, please. Make mine a double,” Violet adds.

The server’s eyes linger on me expectantly. “And for you?”

I tap my chin thoughtfully. Usually, I like to nurse one glass of wine all night. But for some reason, I’m feeling bold.

“A Dirty Shirley for me too,” I tell him.

When he walks away, Iris shakes her head and gives me a sad smile. “I still can’t believe this is your last night.”

“Me either,” I reply with a sigh. These two have been my best friends since I moved to San Diego to study art history five years ago. Leaving feels like ripping off a limb.

“So you’re really doing this?” Violet finally asks. “You’re really getting engaged to an actual criminal?”

“Alleged criminal,” I correct weakly.

“Please. Everyone knows Gio Vega runs half the illegal gambling operations on the West Coast.” Iris doesn’t bother lowering her voice. “Not to mention the bodies that keep?—”

“Iris!”

“What? It’s true.” She leans forward. “I cannot believe your stepmom is making you do this.”

“She’s not making me do anything.” I take a deep breath. “I’m choosing this. To save Worthington Sports. My dad built that company from nothing. It was everything to him.”

I can still picture my dad in his element.

He was a former heavyweight champion turned entrepreneur, walking the floors of the Worthington Sports headquarters in Cooper Heights like he owned the world.

Which, for a while, he did. The small mountain town in Wyoming had never seen success like ours.

Dad went from local boxing hero to millionaire businessman, and he brought the whole community up with him.

Then the cancer came.

Two years ago, we buried him on a Tuesday morning while snow fell on the mountains he loved. I thought the worst part was over.

I was wrong.

The debt hit us like a freight train three months later. Dad had been borrowing against the company for years to fund his expansion plans and my stepmom Lucille’s lavish lifestyle. When he got sick, he kept making deals, kept taking loans, convinced he’d beat the cancer and make it all back.

That’s when Giovanni Vega appeared.

Fresh out of a five-year prison sentence, the former MMA fighter and notorious mob boss came knocking on our door with an offer that made Lucille’s eyes light up with dollar signs.

“Clean slate,” he’d told her over lunch at the country club while I sat there like a piece of meat being appraised. “All debts forgiven. Worthington Sports stays in the family name.”

The price? Me.

And instead of telling him to take a hike like she should have, Lucille practically jumped across the table to shake his hand.

“Think of it as a merger, darling,” she’d said later that evening, sipping her evening martini like we’d just discussed the weather. “The Worthingtons and the Vegas. It has a nice ring to it.”

I’d stared at her in disbelief. “You’re talking about my life.”

“I’m talking about survival.” Her voice had turned cold, the way it always did when she was done pretending to care about my feelings. “Your father left us drowning in debt, Audrey. This is our chance.”

Our relationship had never been warm, but that moment crystallized everything I’d always suspected. That to Lucille Worthington, I was just another asset to be leveraged.

The server returns with our drinks, setting down three tall glasses filled with cherry-red liquid. I grab mine immediately and take a long sip, welcoming the burn.

“So, what’s the plan?” Iris asks after we’ve all had a drink. “You fly back tomorrow, get engaged to Scarface, and live miserably ever after?”

“His name is Gio, and he doesn’t have any scars.”

“That you can see,” Violet mutters.

I drain half my Dirty Shirley in one go. “Look, it’s not forever. Just long enough to stabilize the company and figure out an exit strategy.”

“And what if there is no exit strategy?” Iris’s voice is gentle but pointed. “What if Gio never lets you go?”

The question hangs in the air like smoke. I’ve been trying not to think about that possibility, but it lurks in the back of my mind constantly.

“I don’t know,” I reply. “I guess I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I get to it.”

“Your dad wouldn’t want this for you,” Iris says softly.

“Seriously,” Violet says. “I always thought he was so normal for a famous guy. He would never want you to get married to a man you didn’t love. And especially not a crook like Gio.”

“Maybe not,” I admit. “But he’s not here to stop it.”

“Well, we are,” Violet says firmly. “The rope offer still stands.”

I laugh despite myself. “You’re not actually going to kidnap me.”

“Try us,” Iris challenges.

“Hold up,” Violet says suddenly, her attention caught by something over my shoulder. “Don’t be obvious, but check out what just walked in.”

I turn casually and pretend to survey the room.

My gaze lands on a small group that just walked in.

Based on how they’re dressed, they clearly just left a wedding.

The groom is impossible to miss. He’s massive, easily six-foot-four with shoulders that could span a doorway, and he’s got to be at least twenty years older than the petite blonde bride clinging to his arm.

She’s curvy and gorgeous, and he’s looking down at her like she personally hung every star in the sky.

But that’s not what makes my breath catch.

It’s the man standing next to him.

He’s just as tall as the groom, just as broad through the shoulders, with dark hair and the kind of rugged face that belongs on a movie screen. Early forties, I’d guess. Probably the best man based on how he’s staying close to the groom’s side.

The hostess leads them toward a large table near the windows. As they walk, the best man’s eyes sweep across the bar in a casual scan.

And then they land on mine.

Everything else—the music, the chatter, Iris and Violet’s voices—fades to white noise. Heat floods my cheeks and spreads down my neck like I’ve just stepped too close to a fire. My pulse kicks up a notch, then another, until I can hear it thundering in my ears.

He’s not just looking at me. He’s studying me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle with awareness.

Like he’s trying to solve a puzzle, and I’m the missing piece.

I should look away. Any normal person would break eye contact by now. But I can’t seem to make my body obey my brain. Those dark eyes hold mine captive, and for a wild moment, I wonder if this is what it feels like to be hypnotized.

“Earth to Audrey,” Iris’s voice cuts through the spell.

I blink hard and turn back to my friends, my face burning. “Sorry, what?”

“I said, did you see the bride? She’s got to be at least twenty years younger than that guy.” Violet takes a sip of her drink. “Though I have to admit, they look happy.”

“Yeah.” I risk another glance toward their table. “They do.”

The mystery man is settling into his chair, but his gaze finds mine again immediately, like he was waiting for me to look back. This time, one corner of his mouth lifts in the barest hint of a smile.

My stomach does a little flip.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you?” Iris demands. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” I grab my drink and take a large gulp, hoping the cherry sweetness will calm my suddenly racing heart. “I’m fine.”

“You’re many things, Audrey Worthington, but fine isn’t one of them right now,” Violet observes. “You’re all flushed.”

“It’s warm in here.”

“It’s perfectly climate-controlled,” Iris counters. She follows my previous line of sight and grins. “Oh my gosh. You’re checking out the best man.”

“I am not.”

“You totally are.” Iris cranes her neck to get a better look. “And oh, wow, I can see why. He’s like a lumberjack in a Tom Ford suit.”

“There is definitely something in the water wherever these guys are from.” Violet muses. “How are all these men so huge and hot?”

“They’re probably mountain men,” I reply. “Literally every guy from my hometown looks like that.”

“Well, this certainly explains your thing for guys built like refrigerators,” Violet smirks as she continues to stare at them.

Heat creeps up my neck. “I don’t have a thing for guys built like refrigerators.”

“You absolutely do,” Iris counters. “Every time a guy at school would ask you out, you’d practically yawn in their face. Remember Trevor? That gorgeous surfer who kept showing up to your art history class even though he wasn’t enrolled?”

“He was sweet.”