Phoenix I’m startled when a whirlwind gusts into my office like a torpedo. Confused, my eyes bounce to my brother. He’s as surprised as I am. I shove out of my chair and shuffle to my feet, ready for the worst. “May I help you?” “My name is Michaela Knight,” the woman who barged in my office says. “We need to talk.” I study her for a beat, certain my eyes are deceiving me. “You look nothing like Michaela Knight.” “Interesting, you know who I am.” She lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Until a couple of hours ago, I didn’t know who you were,” she says. “As for the way I look, the hair is a bit of a dramatic transformation.” No shit. She moves her attention away from me, fumbling through her designer bag. I lift my hands in surrender. “Whoa. No need to get violent.” She rolls her eyes at me. “I’m not looking for a gun. I’m pulling out my driver’s license to prove my identity. It’s still my old photo, but at least you can verify my name.” The woman standing in front of me is unquestionably gorgeous, but her hair is a vast d eparture from the photos I’ve seen of her. She chopped off the curtain of dark brown, almost black hair. Without the long mane, her remarkable features stand out. She’s now sporting a short, edgy haircut that makes her look much younger. If I didn’t know better, I might be tempted to think she’s barely legal. “You’re demanding for an intruder.” I scoff. “Hear me out before kicking me out,” she says. I consider her. “Okay.” I nod. She pulls out her wallet. I doubt this tiny tornado is much of a threat. Given this morning’s freak media show, I can’t wait to hear what Miss Knight has to say in her defense. This should be interesting. I tear my gaze away from the feisty woman and shift my attention to my brother. I know that look. His lopsided grin is also a dead giveaway.
Yes, I have eyes. She’s smoking hot. “I’ll catch you later, Slate.” “Why don’t I hang around? You might need a referee.” “I got this.” “You’re sure?” “Positive.” “You never know––” “Slate.” “Okay, okay. I’m gone.” He closes the door behind him in slow motion, his eyes taking in every inch of the woman dressed in a stunning hot pink dress. I shake my head. He grins. “Here you go.” She flings her driver’s license on my desk. I pick it up, study it, verifying both her age and her identity. “You are Michaela Knight.” “Told you. Care to explain why you’re dead set on fucking up my life?” Her surly tone is borderline rude. I drop the driver’s license on my desk and inhale a calming breath. I close my fists and anchor them against my desk. From this vantage point, I get an eyeful of the swell of her tempting breasts. The neckline of her dress is sexy and classy. It commands attention without ever being trashy. The hot pink shade isn’t as defining as red, but it still means business. She looks up, fixing me with a pair of huge, green eyes in a breathtaking shade I’ve never seen before in my life. Her barely there makeup is flawless and those damn black lashes are a mile long. Her perfect pale skin suggests she hasn’t been in LA for long. She clears her throat and takes a st ep back. She squares her shoulders. “I asked you a question and I expect an answer.” I glance down. My desk is an annoyance, a barrier I could do without. I circle it and come to stand right in front of her. My eyes trail down the length of the pint-sized spitfire glaring up at me. I approve of how beautiful she looks in this form-fitted dress that hits her above the knee. I’m also quite partial to those sexy as fuck white high heels with a strap circling her delicate ankles. The immaculate white offers a flawless finish. She crosses her arms over her chest, revealing more than a hint of cleavage. It’s an effort not to stare. “Well?” She has the audacity to tap an impatient foot on the floor. My eyebrows rise to my forehead. “You have some nerve,” I say. “You trespass––” “Newsflash. It’s a hotel. I’m not trespassing.” Her voice doesn’t match the rest of her. It’s
all expensive, smoky whiskey, while her look is all diamonds and champagne. If she wasn’t snapping at me like she is right now, I’m sure I’d enjoy listening to her talk for hours. Focus. “You have no business on the executive floor,” I say. “You’re lucky I haven’t called security to haul your fine ass out of here.” “Please leave my ass out of this conversation,” she says. “I said your fine ass.” “Too bad you’ll never know.” Feisty. The long list of things I’d do to her ass is one hundred percent X-rated, but this is neither the time nor the place. “Ask nicely,” I say. She blinks. “What?” “You’re in my domain, Miss Knight. You want answers, ask nicely.” She shoots a fuck you glare at me. “You’re spreading lies about me. About us.” Her finger moves between us. “Make it stop.” The muscles in my jaw flex. This tiny woman has a fierce fighting spirit, the likes of which I’ve rarely seen in the women I date. She isn’t accommodating. Nor is she a pushover. She stands on her own two feet. She’s a real study in contrast. Miss Knight is nothing like what I expected. “I’m not the one behind this grotesque PR grab,” I say. “You are.” I point an accusatory finger at her. She points one back. “You’re the manipulative asshole who’s using me for God knows what reason. What did my st epmother promise you in exchange for being willing to destroy my life like this?” Her nostrils flare, her eyes shoot daggers at me, and her chest heaves. Stop staring at her breasts. “Did she trick you into believing you were getting a virgin bride?” “What the hell kind of statement is that?” This is so pr eposterous, I doubt I heard her correctly. “Rich men seeking young, dumb virgins so they can shape them to their will—and manhood—and be the first to plant their seed into their womb,” she says. “You think I bought your virginity via your st epmom?” It’s a struggle to ke ep my voice calm and professional. Michaela nods. “She ke eps reminding me I have a precious commodity worth preserving for a dirty old man with pockets lined with money.” She rolls her eyes. “That, and most likely a tiny, limp, shriveled dick.”
The crude word coming from her mouth is an insult to my ears. “She insists it’s all part of a new woman’s empowering movement. And, apparently, it’s a lucrative market. I guess you must be her newest prospect.” For the love of fuck. What does she take me for? “Well, I’m not a virgin,” she says. Good to know. “I don’t bother correcting my st epmom because it’s none of her business.” She shrugs. “The joke’s on you, dirty old man.” “Tread carefully, kitty cat,” I say. “Kitty cat?” “You barge in here, ready to claw my eyes out like a kitten perched on a tree I’m trying to rescue—” “I don’t need to be rescued.” She huffs. “I need answers.” “First, I’ve never met your st epmother. Second, I don’t buy women for sex or for any other reason. Third, I steer away from virgins. And fourth, I’m not an old man.” Dirty, yes, but old, no. “I’m only thirty-one. Enough answers for you, kitty cat?” Hesitant green eyes scan my face. But as quick as a whip, suspicion flashes back at me. “What’s in it for you? Why are you lying to protect my st epmother?” “I’m not. I’ve never met the woman.” “Well, this stunt has her signature all over it—” Michaela brushes a dismissive hand in front of her face. “It doesn’t matter. How are you going to get Just Spotted. com to retract the fake announcement?” I release a breath, my temper ebbing. “We can’t.” “Hence why I didn’t include myself in the statement,” she says. “I don’t have that kind of power, but you do.” She extends her arms out, as if encompassing my luxurious office. Even her mocking smile is charming. “You must have a pricey PR firm at your beck and call. Get them to work their magic. We’re not getting married.” My brother Slate caught wind of the Just Spotted. com article before I did. He called to warn me. I thought he was pulling my leg, but he wasn’t. As I scrolled through the screaming headlines, I was certain Michaela Knight had played a part in this farce. Her outburst suggests she was caught off guard by the sneaky PR stunt as much as I was. The thing is, she doesn’t have the full story. I do. And I’m about to burst her bubble. “There’s more to this than meets the eye,” I say. “No, there
isn’t. There’s been a mistake. You need to fix it.” “It’s not a mistake, Michaela.” Her long eyelashes flutter at the mention of her name. Then, it hits me. This is the first time her name has passed my lips since she busted into my office. “You’re missing parts of the puzzle,” I say. She stares for a long beat, flabbergasted. And then she bursts out laughing. Full on belly laughs. “You’re cute and all, but either you’re missing a screw or you’re deaf. We. Are. Not. Getting. Married,” she says, enunciating every word. “Even though I don’t approve of how things were done, I’m not one to renege on a deal, especially not this one,” I say. “I swear on everything that’s holy, you’re being a stubborn prick just to irritate the hell out of me,” she says. “We don’t know each other. We’re not getting married. End of story.” She jabs a finger at me, a harsh edge breaking through each word. My eyes rattle back and forth like a ping pong ball from her manicured finger, to her sultry mouth, to her gem-like eyes. She thinks she has leverage here. I’m on the bitter cusp of pulling her onto my lap to teach her who’s in control. “You have a mouth on you,” I say. “Congratulations on your power of observation. That still doesn’t change the fact, we’re not getting married.” This conversation is exasperating. “Have you talked to your father?” Her disdainful smirk falls. She doesn’t answer. “Had you talked to your father before barging in here, trespassing on private property, flying off the handle, wailing about foul play, shrieking and keening like a goddamn banshee, you’d know what’s at stake here.” She purses her lips together, conceding I’ve one upped her. “I tried to call him, but he’s dealing with a situation.” “I’m willing to bet my fortune your father is behind this—” “My––my father is behind this?” Ah. A tiny crack in her armor. “I’m certain of it,” I say. “He has the most to gain from this publicity stunt.” “You’re not making any sense,” she says. “My father would never do such a thing.” “He would if he was looking for extra leverage.” “Leverage on what?” “Your father and I have a deal.” “A deal?” “Yes.” I nod. “An ironclad
deal, which is why I don’t know why he felt the need to force my hand.” “What kind of deal are you talking about?” “Like I said, you should’ve talked to your father before coming to me.” “Well, I’m here now and I’m asking you. Instead of answering my question, you’re being elusive, which is characteristic of a manipulative liar.” “I’m not the one using undermining tactics, sweetheart. Your father masters the art of dec eption.” A thunderous storm rages in her eyes. She leaps towards me like a bull in a ring charging at full speed towards the matador’s red cape. I’m quick. I reach out to snatch her wrist before her palm hits my cheek and force her hand to rest against my chest. She flinches at the contact. So do I. For a brief moment we both seem startled by the proximity. It’s a good thing I’m too fucking wound up right now to enjoy the warmth of her body against mine. She breathes in and out, seemingly pr eparing for a second attack. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I say, my steady voice betraying the frantic palpitation of my heart. “Stop it with your lies,” she says. She tries but fails to break from my grip. Even when she’s immobilized, she’s willing to fight with all her might. “The ink is already dried on the contract,” I say. “As of two days ago, my company owns the Villiers Grand Hotel.” She blinks. And blinks again. More frantic blinking. “My father sold the hotel?” The revelation takes the wind out of her. I nod. “Yes, he did.” She studies me for a long beat. I hold her murderous gaze. A hysterical laugh leaves her lips. “You’re such a bullshitter.” Okay, I have no idea how to read this woman. “And you’re blind,” I say. “You’re a pretentious asshole.” Time to remove the kid gloves. “If you deigned to get off your high horse and open your fucking eyes, you would’ve noticed your father is drowning in debt. He owes a ton of money he can’t r epay. But no, you’re here pretending to know what you’re talking about, but in reality, you know shit, and you’re only shooting your mouth off.” Her shoulders stiffen at the insult. “That’s right, sweetheart, you’re not the only one who can throw the punches,” I say.
For several long seconds we enter a Mexican standoff, nostrils flaring, eyes trained on each other, breaths meshing together. “I don’t believe you,” she says. Niels Knight was supposed to st ep up to the plate and explain his precarious situation to his daughter. The onus wasn’t supposed to fall on me. Michaela is still staring at me like she wants to stab my eyeballs with a fork. “Everyone has a price, Miss Knight.” My words are cold. “Niels made a promise to your mother. A lot has happened recently, making it harder and harder for him to ke ep that promise. I’m unwilling to go into details—that’s your father’s job, not mine—suffice to say, his back was up against a wall. He needed a quick exit strategy. I just so happened to be in the market for a new hotel in Manhattan.” Her lips form into an O. I didn’t expect our first encounter to be sugary sweet, but this hostility is amped up by the fact she has no clue how much shit her father is dealing with. “As far as merger-marriages go,” I say, “it’s part and parcel of everything else I’ve agreed to. Your father had a long list of demands I was willing to meet.” “A merger-marriage?” “Yes.” “What does that even mean?” “The merger part is where I bail out your family hotel and fold it under our umbrella of hotels to prevent it from going into bankruptcy.” “Bankruptcy?” Her question comes out on a stunned breath. I nod. “The hotel is no longer ours?” “Not until the debt is paid off.” “But that’ll take forever,” she says. “There are ways of shaving off a considerable number of years from the r epayment plan.” “What kind of ways?” She’s no longer spitting fire at me. “That’s where the marriage part kicks in.” I allow for a pregnant pause. “You and me... in holy matrimony.” A little sarcasm never hurts. She hitches a breath. Her green eyes are so huge right now. “I’m tied to you by my father’s debt?” I tilt my head left to right. “Something like that.” She stares at me in shock. “No. No way.” She shakes her head. “Nope. Not happening. We are never ever entering into holy matrimony. Not in this lifetime. Not in the next.” Let me break it
down for you, sweetheart. “I’ll be sinking in two hundred million dollars in exchange for your agreement to become my wife for three-hundred-sixty-five days.” Her jaw drops. “Daddy sold me?” “He did what he had to do.” Silence surrounds us. Myriad emotions flash in her green eyes. I don’t know her well enough to decipher them all, but what I see reflecting from her gaze indicates I’m her least favorite person on the planet right now. I don’t rush her. I give her time to process everything. Once she acc epts her new reality, we can figure out the next st eps. “Let go of my arm,” she says. Not the reaction I expected. “I said, let go of my arm.” Her tone is slicing. I do. Her green eyes snap up at me in rebellion. “This meeting is adjourned.” My eyebrows shoot to my forehead. “Are you kidding me?” She squares her shoulders. “Do I look like I’m fucking kidding?” Without waiting for an answer, she turns on her heel. “Where are you going?” “I’m sure you’re pulling a fast one on me. My father would never sell the Villiers Grand. Never. He’d die before he ever let that happen. And, if he were in any kind of financial trouble, he would’ve told me about it.” Michaela throws her parting words over her shoulder, still striding towards the door. “I wouldn’t have to hear it from you—a complete stranger.” She comes to an abrupt stop and turns around to face me. “I’m sure you make it a sport to st ep all over the little guy, Mr. King Kong Tycoon.” King Kong Tycoon? “But we’re not going down without a fight. I don’t know what kind of fucked up, twisted, and pathetic mind game you’re playing, you cruel corporate sadist, but I’m out of here.” I’m so dumbfounded, words es cape me. Jesus. Her tongue is sharper than an obsidian blade, her attitude as abrasive as sandpaper. “I pray to God I never see your face again, Phoenix König.” She flips me the bird, and she flies out of here like the flames of hell are licking her designer high heels. She slams the door behind her so hard, I’m surprised the windows don’t shatter. Who the hell does she think she is? She storms in and out of here like she
owns the goddamn building. I should be pissed off. Livid, even. That little cyclone did a number on me. Every cell in my body is buzzing. I’m pulsing with adrenaline. Arousal. My mind fights it, but my cock stiffens at visions of her stripped naked, bent over my desk, my tongue trailing all over her sinful body before I fuck her like it’s my new mission in life. That would teach her a lesson. One I’m sure she would enjoy as much as I would.