She hesitates. “Actually, I’d like to move up here. I love the nightclub scene.” She seems to prepare herself for my criticism.

Three weeks ago, I would have given it. Now, I say, “It makes you alive.”

“Exactly.” She breaks into a smile.

“It shows.” When I’d first learned she’d chosen to stay at The Sky Launch rather than use her degree in a more traditional way, I’d assumed that Alayna had an affinity with the club. Having witnessed her in this environment and comparing it to her presentation at Stern, I see it’s even more than that. This place is a life force for her. She’s struck me with her beauty both times I’ve seen her. Here, though, her beauty is transcendent.

“Laynie!” It’s the drunk kid down the bar. Alayna leaves me to attend to him. I eavesdrop, cringing as he gives her his number. I wonder how many times she gets hit on in an evening. It bothers me more than I want it to. Once more, I curse her outfit.

Thankfully, she doesn’t seem too interested in this guy. She throws his number away the minute he leaves, catching my eye as she does.

I could smile and nod and we wouldn’t have to discuss it. But I find myself wanting to know, so I ask, “Do you do that with every number you receive?”

Really, I just want her to talk to me some more. Yet another way to demand her attention.

She studies me. “Are you trying to figure out if I’d throw away your number?”

I can’t help myself—I laugh. “Maybe.”

She smiles, illuminating the space around her. It’s the kind of smile that some men would do anything to see as often as possible. I wonder what it would feel like to be that kind of man.

Then she leans on the counter toward me, and my gaze is pulled to the gorgeous curve of her tits. “I wouldn’t throw yours away. I wouldn’t take yours at all.”

I manage to lift my eyes to hers. “Not your type?”

“Not necessarily.”

I’m enjoying this conversation much more than I should. “Why then?”

“Because you’re looking for something temporary. Something fun to play with.” She leans closer and it takes all my strength not to look back down at her br**sts, not to notice if her ni**les are puckered against the thin fabric of her blouse, not to reach forward and brush them with my fingertips.

“And I get attached.” She straightens. “Now doesn’t that just scare you shitless?”

Scare me shitless? It turns me the f**k on. Everything she does and says is more fuel for a fire of desire that is slowly overtaking me. I’m beginning to think I’d do anything to be near her. Oh, that’s right—I’ve already done anything.

And she assumes she’s the dark one of the two of us. It’s amusing.

“You, Alayna Withers, do anything but scare me.” I stand and button my coat. I’m tempted to stay longer, but I’ve just dropped that I know her name. I shouldn’t be here when she realizes. “Congratulations again. Quite an accomplishment.”

Long after I’ve left, I feel her eyes on me. The warmth and life contained in her gaze clings to my body even after I’m home. Consumes me. I think about her while I’m in the shower as I stroke myself. I come fast and hard and still her presence cleaves to me like a second skin.

Needing to see her again soon, I decide to gift her a week at my spa in the mountains near Poughkeepsie. I’ll have it delivered anonymously and then I’ll join her there. I can meet her on equal ground. I can get to know her, spend time with her, seduce her. It would likely put Celia’s scheme in jeopardy which is just an added bonus.

The idea thrills me and delights me as I think about it.

And then I let it go.

I know from experience that Celia is a worthy foe. Any violation of her plan on my part will result in retaliation. Though I don’t fear what she can do to me, I am attached in this odd way to Alayna Withers. I care about what Celia can and will do to her. My protection can only be effective if I stay the course.

Though I’m a fairly humorless person, I laugh at my own attempt to fool myself. I’m not invested in this for Alayna’s benefit. It’s all for my own. I want to be close to the woman. I want to study the effect she has on me. I want to see her survive, but it’s for my own selfish satisfaction.

Still, I decide to give her the spa trip. I’m not sure what motivates me to do so. I don’t leave my name on the gift note so it’s not about endearing her to me. I truly want her to go because I think she’d enjoy it. Because I want her to have a moment of pleasure in a life that has been less than easy. Perhaps I am capable of unselfish actions after all.

Or maybe I just know Alayna will have a better chance in Celia’s game if she enters it pampered and well-rested. That’s a more likely reason for my actions. I’m capable of manipulating the thoughts of many, but I can’t convince myself that I’m a better person than I am, no matter how hard I try.

Chapter Seven

I’m a composed man. Always in control. I’ve run meetings of disgruntled board members without forming a bead of sweat. I’ve bid on high stock investments without altering my pulse. I’ve played convincible mind games without batting an eye.

Tonight, in the presence of a woman I hardly know, I’m in over my head.

Perhaps I’m losing my touch. Or maybe I’ve just finally met my match.

Alayna enters the bubble room before me. Just yesterday, on her first shift after her vacation at my spa, I was introduced to her as the new owner of the club. We haven’t yet had a chance to establish a working relationship. This is by design. I don’t want her to see me as her boss or a business associate. I need her to see me as a man. As a potential lover.

So here we are in as close to a non-work environment as I can establish within the club. She’s accompanying me while I eat dinner. The setup should feel to her like a date. However, it also feels like a date for me and that is why I’m a bit daunted.

At least we’ll be daunted together.

Alayna flips the switch to indicate our bubble room is occupied. Then she hands me a menu. It’s slightly amusing. She’s not on-the-clock, and yet she’s still on duty.

I gesture for her to take a seat. “After you.”

She sits, and I watch her closely. Her knuckles are nearly white from gripping the table edge. Her heel is bouncing against the carpeted floor. She’s nervous to be here—alone—with me. Frankly, I am too. But it’s up to me to calm her nerves. And mine.