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I hope I’m being a good actress. It’s hard to pretend that his nearness isn’t shaking me when, in fact, my heart is beating almost painfully.

It’s not about the reasons we shouldn’t be together nor even about how he dumped me back then—by having that woman hand me an envelope of money—that comes back to me now, but everything we experienced in our one night together.

His kisses and the way his body moved over mine. Thick thighs asking for passage between mine. Demanding, powerful muscles against my softness.

The dark blue gaze looking for me in the gloom of the night we shared.

“I didn’t sell myself to you when I signed the contract.” I force myself to speak and realize he’s focused on my mouth. “If I’d known you were behind it, I wouldn’t have accepted.”

“I doubt it. No one would simply give up such a large sum.”

Damn you . He knows I’m bluffing. Even if I did know he would be my employer, I couldn’t walk away from it. My parents’ house has already been mortgaged twice, and the amount of money I spend on the hospital room and the nurses to stay with her 24/7 is obscene.

I’m not complaining. No sacrifice is too big for her and Dad, but it means that, from the start of a negotiation, I had to accept basically any and every job that came my way and traveled non-stop.

He’s staring at me, and I don’t back down, but admiring his beauty makes me aware of what I must look like. As if he can read my thoughts, he asks, “What happened to your face, ?”

“Domestic accident.” No way am I going to tell him that it was the result of my marriage breaking up. No one needs to know the level of disrespect my ex-husband reached.

Just yesterday, I went to a divorce specialist. After hearing the whole story of my short relationship, he advised me to try an amicable solution if I really want to avoid scandal, despite what happened two days before. This means I still have to meet with Mike to work out the details.

I’m staying in Boston for a few more days, so with my Dad and Bia present—plus the lawyer, of course—we’ll have what I hope will be our last conversation before we sign the papers. My lawyer, Robin, tried to arrange a meeting in his office, but Mike claimed he couldn’t make it because of work.

Mom is also home and under home care for the month. Whenever her health improves, the doctor allows her to go home temporarily to help her feel she’s living as normal a life as possible.

“Does your domestic accident have a name?”

I notice his lips forming a thin line as if he’s been struggling to contain his anger.

“Is my personal life of your concern, Mr. Lykaios? Or should I call you Xander Megalos?”

He looks bewildered for a moment. “They’re my middle names.”

“I know now. Considering that quick dismissal the next day, it makes perfect sense you wouldn’t want to give me your full name.”

I regret it immediately after it slips from my lips. Damn, the last thing I need is to show vulnerability in front of him. Because if I’m being honest, as soon as I found out his true identity that day, I would have left anyway.

“It doesn’t matter; it’s in the past. Now I think we should let our people in.”

“Take off your glasses, .”

I should send him and his sense of authority to hell. Instead, I find myself obeying. I do as he asks and look into his eyes. What happened wasn’t my fault, and I won’t be ashamed because I married a coward like Mike.

I know I don’t look as bad as I did on the first day, but the bruise that formed still left purple and yellow traces, which no makeup could hide. The slap hit me so hard that it was a miracle I didn’t break a bone, according to the surgeon.

“Did your husband do this to you?”

I could deny it, but I’m tired of this game. I just want to know the outcome of this meeting; then I can go back to Boston.

“Ex-husband. I started the divorce process.” No, I don’t know why I said that or even what he is thinking.

His expression goes back to neutral for a moment. “Answer me. Did he attack you?”

I nod, but I’m not facing him this time. “But like I said before, the surgeon assured me . . .”

He comes close, and my pulse goes wild. I can’t find air for my lungs.

“You’re single now?” he asks.

My back is almost pressed against the door, and I know I should stop him, but I can’t. I don’t want to.

“Yep.”

Christos’s strength and intensity are something primal and raw, meeting all my feminine needs.

How did I ever think I could replace this man? Regardless of what he’s done and that we can never be together, I’m his.

“Do you consider yourself single right now, ?” His voice sounds hoarse.

I move my head up and down slowly, and then my forbidden thoughts, the ones I don’t allow myself to have when I’m daydreaming, come true.

His hand touches my waist like he’s testing me, like I’m something precious. Reflexively, I flatten mine on his chest. His grip tightens, and there’s no distance between us as his mouth takes mine without warning—the opposite way his hands started.

His tongue is demanding and enters my mouth without giving me a chance to retreat. I respond with the same need, taking everything from him as well.

I lose track of time and place. I just know I want more.

“Why did you leave when, with just one touch, you melt in my arms, ? When your body still recognizes and responds to me even after so long?”

I moan against his mouth, hungry and delighted, pressing myself against him, but then he suddenly pulls away, making me feel lost and empty.

The way he stares at me is cold and brings me back to reality.

God, what did I do? How could I forget who he is?

“It doesn’t matter anymore. You had a choice in the past and made a decision. Let’s get down to business. That’s what you’re here for, .”