mbo by onechangeatthetime

BODYGUARD’S OBSESSION

MINK

Bodyguard’s Obsession MINK © 2021 All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book only. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from MINK. This e-book is a work of ﬁction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

CONTENTS

Bodyguard’s Obsession Chapter 1 Cyrus Chapter 2 Fiona Chapter 3 Cyrus Chapter 4 Fiona Chapter 5 Cyrus Chapter 6 Fiona Chapter 7 Cyrus Chapter 8 Fiona Chapter 9 Cyrus Chapter 10 Fiona Chapter 11 Cyrus Chapter 12 Fiona Chapter 13 Cyrus Chapter 14 Fiona Chapter 15 Cyrus Chapter 16 Fiona

Chapter 17 Cyrus Chapter 18 Fiona Chapter 19 Cyrus Chapter 20 Fiona Epilogue Epilogue II Also by MINK About the Author

BODYGUARD’S OBSESSION MINK

Nothing surprises me anymore. At least nothing did … Until she fell into my arms. Fiona is young, beautiful, and a superstar. It’s my job to protect her from her crazy fans and one particularly dangerous stalker. It’s not my job to watch every little move she makes, to hang on her every word, and to imagine what it would be like to get a taste of her. I tell myself to keep my distance and stay alert. It pays o when I save her life. But it also wakes me up to the fact that she’s not safe on the Vegas stage. So I seize the chance to take her for myself. . . For her safety, of course. I bring her home, to the vineyard where I grew up. The problem is, home has its own shadows, ones I’ve tried to outrun. But I’ll deal with them if it means Fiona is safe. But her stalker won’t give up, not until she’s his or dead. I won’t let that happen, and I’ll do anything to protect Fiona, no matter the cost.

1 CYRUS

he lights of Vegas don’t blind me. Not anymore. I’m used to the Strip, the tourists, and all the fakeness this city thrives on. It’s part of my life here, and I’ve been living it for years. I walk into the casino, the ﬂashing lights and tired waitresses with the perky smiles failing to catch my eye. This town is full of sad souls, and I don’t want to become one of them. I’m not a gambler, and I don’t want to make any sort of real connections here. After all, in Vegas, nothing is real. The pit boss eyes me as I stalk past. He knows better than to get in my way. Security opens the backroom door for me, leading me into a hallway where there are rooms upon rooms of people watching CCTV feeds, looking for cheaters, and looking for thieves. I don’t ask questions, don’t do anything except follow the black clad security guard into the back elevator. I’ve already sized him up. Dropping him would be easy. One simple blow to the knee he faintly favors. A big man, he probably used to

play ball. Or maybe an old gym injury. Either way, I’ve got the drop on him if shit goes sideways. The elevator rises, up and up until we’re on the top floor. Not the presidential suite any asshole with enough money can buy. No, this is the real apex of the casino operation several floors below. I’m shown in, and I pull my gloves from my pocket, sliding the black leather over my hands with ease. They’re broken in, worn. Sort of like me. I’m only twenty-eight, but I feel like the past two years have aged me. Working for the bad men who run this city can do that to a guy, I suppose. The entryway is covered in gold and silver, mirrored and polished. Overdone. Typical of Vegas. I stride through and sit down on one of the white sofas, careful to keep my back to the window. No one’s sneaking up on me 40 floors up. A housemaid who speaks zero English o ers me an Evian. I take it, and she hurries o . For a moment I worry if she’s been tra cked, but then I realize there’s no way Frankie Robards would have her working in the open like that if she was. He’s vicious, but he’s not stupid. And more than that, he’s a fucking showo . That’s why half the maid’s body is pumped full of silicone that he paid for, I’m certain. I shrug it o and take a drink of my water. He knows I don’t drink. Hell, I don’t do anything except my fucking job. I have to. It pays bills that keep Winston living a good life, so I’ll keep doing it. He deserves some peace. I owe him peace. “Mr. Blake, so nice to see you again.” Frankie walks in, a coked-out blonde on his arm. They sit across from me, and she paws at his robe.

“Later, Porsche. I have business.” He pushes her away, then wraps an arm around her shoulder as she settles down. I think she’s relieved. Frankie is a balding ﬁfty-something with bad hair plugs and unlimited money. Porsche, twenty if she’s a day, probably feels lucky she managed to latch on to such a young sugar daddy. Not that I judge. After all, I’m here to get an assignment for dirty work. Bloody work. Work that requires gloves. “Who?” I sit the Evian bottle on a glittery side table. “Straight to business as always.” Frankie smiles, his silver tooth glinting. I shrug. And wait. “Well, I have something new for you this time. Not wet work.” Interesting. “That’s all I do.” I take out the Vegas trash. Back alley disagreements and vendettas are often solved at the end of my gun, my ﬁst, or my blade. “Not anymore. This is something special. Something I need a man like you to do.” “Pay?” I ask. “For this? Let’s triple your usual rate.” Fuck. It must be some nasty, dangerous shit for that kind of money. I can’t turn it down. Hell, it might be a way out. One big payday, and I can get my ass back home to the vineyard.

Invest in fresh vines and put solid footing under Winston’s feet. Mine too. “Give me the details.” I’m in. “Give me a name, and it’s done.” He clears his throat. “It pays so well because it’s not a simple one and done, Mr. Blake.” “You know my rule.” I don’t hurt kids. Never will, don’t care what the o er is. He shakes his head. “No, nothing like that. I need you to protect an asset. A very special one.” Protection isn’t in my nature. I’m much better at destruction. But for triple pay? Someone throw me a fucking shield. “Okay, when do I start?” I slowly pull my gloves o , one ﬁnger at a time. “Now.” Frankie stands. “She’s on her way up.” “She?” I raise a brow. “None other than the newest star of the Robards Stage. The entertainer who will bring our casino back to the crème de la crème. The best in the business!” He beams. Porsche plasters a big, toothy smile onto her face. “An entertainer? That’s who you want me to protect?” “Not just any entertainer. She’s—” The penthouse elevator dings, and I stand and walk over to it. She’s got to be some has-been pop star who’ll put asses in seats and money into the casino co ers. Washed up and

worn out. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll guard her for however long I have to, get my pay, and be on my way. When the elevator doors open, I school my features. But when I see her, her brilliant blue eyes meet mine. Then she stumbles forward, her heel caught in the elevator grate, and she falls like a graceless duck toward the hard marble ﬂoor.

2 FIONA

y stomach drops as I realize I’m about to faceplant onto the ﬂoor. It won’t be the ﬁrst time, but it might be the most embarrassing. I suppose if I break something, I might get a vacation. I shut my eyes, knowing the ground is closing in on me fast. I try to brace for the impact, but it never comes. Instead, two strong arms wrap around me, catching me easily. How the heck did he move that quickly? He was across the room. He was the reason I’d tripped to begin with. He caught me o guard. When the doors of the elevator slid open and there stood the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my life —kaboom. That’s saying a lot. I’ve been around men that have been deemed the sexiest in the world. Yet they could never hold a candle to him. “Hi,” I get out as I stare up at him. He’s even more attractive close up. He smells good too. Whatever he uses isn't overpowering. Most of the men in this town tend to overdo the cologne. But not this handsome stranger. He stares at me, not saying a word.

“Thank you. That would have left a mark.” I let out a small laugh, but he doesn’t join me, making me feel awkward. “See? You’re already protecting her,” Frankie says, strolling over to me. He gives me an o feeling, but so far he’s kept his hands to himself. Though I haven't been here long. “I knew you’d be perfect for the job.” The handsome man slowly puts me back on my feet. He keeps his arm wrapped around me as he makes sure I get my footing. I tilt my head to look up at him. He towers over me, even in these four-inch heels. His dark hair is cut short, adding to his appeal. But I must admit that his dark green eyes entice me the most. They make me think about doing things with him that I’ve never wanted to do with any man. I wouldn’t call him classic sexy. A scar runs through his left eyebrow. It’s not big, but it is noticeable. His nose looks like it’s been broken before. It does nothing to take away from how handsome he is. If anything, it only adds to his appeal. Not to mention he’s a big man. I’m small myself, but he’s got to be three times my size. There is nothing ‘pretty boy’ about him. “Got your footing?” he asks. His voice is deep and vibrates through my body. I open my mouth, but no words come out. He lifts the brow that has the scar in question. “Yes,” I push out past my lips. He swiftly lets me go, stepping back from me and taking his warmth with him. “You okay?” Frankie asks me.

I nod. He walks over to me, his hand going for my chin. I sti en. So much for him not touching me. The other man's hand snaps out, and he pulls me away. “Don’t touch.” “I can fucking do whatever I want,” Frankie snaps. “You want me to protect her, then we do it my way.” Wait. He’s the man they were talking about earlier? The one that’s going to be protecting me from now on? They said he’s the best. No one else would be able to keep me safe like him. If his reaction skills are anything to go by, I suppose they are right. The two of them have a stare-o for a moment. I want to tell Frankie I don’t want to be touched, especially by him, but he is my boss, and I’m under contract. “Fine.” Frankie folds his arms over his chest. “Fiona, this is Cyrus Blake. The man I was telling you about.” “It’s nice to meet you.” He releases his hold on my wrist. “Wish I could say the same,” he mutters, running a hand down his face. Ouch. He might be good at his job, but he obviously needs a lot of work on his people skills. “You’re going to be a handful.” “You already agreed.” Frankie frowns. I want to tell Cyrus he can get lost, but fear keeps me standing here. If he can really keep me safe, I might beg him to help me. I’m tired of worrying and looking over my shoulder every day. I can deal with his judgment. I’ve been doing it all my life. Still, why does this burn more than I’m used to?

“What happened to her last bodyguard? You had one, right?” I lick my suddenly dry lips. “I did. A few actually, but he kept getting by them. Last night he left roses in my dressing room.” I’d felt a real sense of fear in that moment. I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about what my stalker had written on the card inside. “Who is he?” “We don’t know.” Frankie answers for me. “The note that was attached to them said Don’t make me put these on your grave.” I shudder. “How long has this been going on?” Cyrus looks to me for an answer this time. “I think about six months. It started a while before I got to Vegas.” “You think?” I shrug. “I get a lot of weird things sent to me, so it might have been going on longer, but he’s gotten more aggressive. He signs his cards and letters all the same. Your loving husband.” It’s such a strange thing, but I really do think this guy thinks we’re married or something. “Have you been married before?” I swear there’s a little anger in his voice when he asks the question. I shake my head. “Engaged?” I keep shaking it.

It dawns on me then that this man has no idea who I am. “I’m going to need a list of your exes.” I bite the inside of my cheek, not sure where to start with that one. “Now? I have to get ready in a few hours for my show tonight.” “You’re performing tonight?” I notice a slight tic in his jaw. “Of course she is! She has sold-out shows.” Frankie jumps in. Of course I am. Frankie wouldn't want to lose out on the money. He hasn't hired me a bodyguard because he truly cares about what happens to me. I’m not sure anyone really does. It’s about what I can do for them. Or how much money I can make for them. He’s protecting his investment. Nothing more. “I’ll need the list of exes immediately. The sooner we ﬁnd this person, the sooner you won’t need me.” I try not to ﬂinch. “Okay,” I agree, wondering if he means real ones or fake ones. I decide to just give him all of them.

3 CYRUS

he stands just ahead of me in the elevator, her pink dress hugging her delectable body perfectly. A small girl, one that could blow over in a sti breeze, she still managed to feel warm and curvy in my arms. Soft in all the right places. I need to stop thinking about her like this. She’s a job. One that can get me out of this hellish town. All I have to do is ﬁnd her stalker and throttle the life out of him. End of problem. But as she tosses a lock of hair over her shoulder with a nervous sort of grace, I wonder if that really will be the end of it. Because when I caught her, held her close, I felt something that I’ve long avoided. Something I thought I’d never have to worry about, especially not in this town full of phonies. Not her, though. No. She’s the real thing. Every bit of her. “You, um, you aren’t what I expected.” I realize she’s been staring at me in the polished chrome reﬂection of the elevator door. “I’m not?” Neither are you.

She’s vibrant and beautiful, not some washed up has-been with a coke habit and a need for money to keep it going. She smiles a little. “No. The last two guys were older. You don’t look that much older than me.” “Don’t worry. I’m good at my job.” She looks down, demureness written all over her. “They said you’re the best.” The elevator opens, and we pass through a series of corridors and into the backstage area behind the enormous auditorium. I keep my eyes open, my body attuned to hers. “You really don’t know who I am?” she asks. “Sorry, I’m not really keeping up with the pop stars these days.” She lets out a pure, high giggle. “These days? I’m pretty sure you’ve never kept up with pop stars in your whole life. What, just Metallica and angry yelling music for you, then?” Anyone who so much as glances in her direction—I catalog them in my mind. I’ll have a manifest of everyone on set and behind the scenes in no time. Nobody is going to touch this girl while I’m around, and certainly not some crazed fan who thinks he’s her husband. Just the thought of it sends a jolt of hatred through me. That presumptuous motherfucker. “Metallica? Sure.” I whip my head toward a loud bang, but it’s just some roadies working with backstage sca olding. From the looks of it, her show is ﬁlled with glitter, glam, and ridiculous girlie things like giant stu ed animals in fanciful designs.

“It’s a pandacorn.” She points to the largest one I can just see through the side stage curtains. “Custom made for me by this sweet woman who started the whole pandacorn craze a little while ago. Layla makes them by hand, and it took her a month to make that one.” I should be bored hearing about outrageously-sized stu ed animals, but I’m not. Not when the words are ﬂowing from Fiona’s lips with excitement and wonder. She’s so pure, an innocent ﬂower in this garden full of poisonous thorns. Vegas isn’t her town, at least it shouldn’t be. But that’s not my concern. I just need to do the job. “You don’t like stu

es?” she asks.

“I can’t say I have much experience with them, but if you like them, then I guess they’re all right.” I keep my head on a swivel, though my gaze stops on her more than it should. She smiles, her cheeks turning a light pink. Beautiful. How’d she end up here in the old timers’ graveyard known as stage shows in Vegas? She should be out there on tour and entertaining hormonal teens and their middle-aged parents. There’s a story here. One I shouldn’t meddle in, but one I want to know all the same. “After the show, I’m going to need more background—” A man comes charging up, a headset on as he speaks furiously into the mouthpiece, then turns his volume up even higher when he sees Fiona. “Where have you been? I needed you in makeup 15 minutes ago!” I step up, cutting him o my girl. My client.

before he reaches my girl. Wait, not

He looks up at me with an exasperated glare. “Move. I’m the stage manager.”

“I don’t give a fuck who you are, you don’t approach Fiona like that.” I step to him. “And you don’t talk to her in that tone, either. Understand? I want you to address her as Miss —” I turn to her. “What’s your last name?” Her light blue eyes are open wide, and she stutters out, “HHerring.” “Miss Herring from now on.” I return my glare to the stage manager and pull my black gloves from my pocket. “I beg your pardon! You can’t come here and …” His bluster drains away as I pull on my gloves and flex my fingers. “You, ah, you …” “Go on. Tell me what I can’t do.” I loom over him, and he suddenly seems to realize he’s poked the fucking biggest, baddest bear in this shithole casino, maybe even on the Strip, for that matter. I don’t have to say ‘I will fuck you up.’ It’s already there, written on my face. “Right, yes. You, um, you are so right.” He steps back. “Ah, Fion—err, Miss Herring, they need you in makeup.” “Right now or at her earliest convenience?” I ask, enjoying the flare of his pupils with each menacing word from my mouth. “Righ—I mean, at her earliest convenience, of course.” He swallows hard, the sweat along his brow starting to roll down his temples. “When she’s ready. Not, ah, not a second earlier. No rush. Not when she’s the star.” “Better. Keep that same energy when it comes to her. I’d hate for there to be some sort of accident backstage. One that could leave you maimed or”—I shrug—“worse.”

He stammers as I pull o my gloves, then reach for Fiona’s hand. She slides her small one into mine, and I lead her past the blowhard and to the dressing room with the chipped golden star on the door. “Home sweet home,” she murmurs and unlocks the door. I’ll get a duplicate of that key, but for now, I need to continue scoping out her surroundings. If this stalker asshole is good enough to get past the last guards, he’s no slouch. I’d be a fool to underestimate my opponent, even if those other guys can’t hold a candle to me. “Okay, don’t judge me.” She looks at me over her shoulder. Fuck, those big blue eyes could destroy a man like me. “Judge you for what?” I gently pull her behind me and enter the room ﬁrst. Hitting the switch, I stop. “What the—” Quick movement from my right catches my eye, and I ﬂing myself forward and pull a knife, ready to take down the threat. “No!” Fiona screams. “Don’t hurt Kittypu !”

4 FIONA

rush past Cyrus to get to my fur baby and scoop him up into my arms. I hold him close while kissing the top of his head. It doesn’t go unnoticed by me that Cyrus and Kittypu are having a stare-o . “He can be a little possessive. I've raised him since he was a tiny kitten. I found him in an alley, and he would only come up to me, no one else.” I smile thinking about how easily Kittypu had taken to me. He had no clue who I was or what I could give him. “He picked me.” “What happened to him?” “I’m not sure. I think he might have been the runt of the litter, so his mama left him. I bet one of the other kittens did this to his ear.” My poor little guy only has one. I scratch the spot on his head where his missing ear should be. He purrs loudly, butting his head against my hand. I watch as Cyrus takes in the rest of my dressing room. I’m a little embarrassed with all the stu ed animals and piles of candy I keep around. I can live o candy for the most part. “It looks like a ﬂorist shop in here.” He starts pulling cards o the ﬂowers to read them. I know he’s assessing every

detail at this point. “Are you ready?” My door starts to open. Cyrus spins around. “Makeup,” I blurt out quickly so that he doesn’t kill Becca. He is really taking this seriously. He nods, shutting the door behind her. She chomps her gum loudly. “Aren't you Cyrus Blake?” she asks before blowing a huge bubble. I think she’s trying to be sexy, but Cyrus seems una ected by her attempt. She continues walking until she reaches the area where I get ready. She sets her makeup case down in front of the mirror. I climb into the chair, placing Kittypu on my lap. “Yes. And your name?” he asks. “Becca,” she answers. “Your full name.” “Becca James. What’s going on here?” “He’s my bodyguard.” “Ah, man. You got rid of the daddy duo? I wanted to get between them.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “You’re not bad on the eyes, though, Cyrus.” “We’re running behind.” I cut in on her ﬂirting. A sudden spark of jealousy hit me out of nowhere. Cyrus gives her a no-nonsense look that has her getting to work on me. Normally I think her ﬂirting is over the top and funny. She’s actually cut o a few men from hitting on me. Pretty sure she took them home, so I’m not sure if she did it

for me or herself. I find nothing amusing about her trying to flirt with Cyrus, though. He’s mine. I watch his every move in the mirror as Becca does my makeup. I may be annoyed at her flirting with Cyrus, but I can’t deny what amazing work she does. The woman is an artist with her makeup brushes. She makes me sparkle as if I were a fairy. Cyrus continues to roam around the room, taking in every last detail. Kittypu jumps down from my lap, getting curious about Cyrus. I don’t blame him. I feel the exact same way. I want to know more about him. There is something about him that’s holding all my attention. Kittypu isn’t hissing, which is a start. He’s particular, and he still gives poor Becca the evil eye whenever she gets too close. “Hair up or down today?” Becca asks. “Down,” Cyrus says before I can answer her. His words take me by surprise. Butterflies form in my belly at the thought of him wanting to see me with my hair down. Especially since he had shown no interest in what Becca was o ering him earlier. “I think I’ll wear it up tonight.” Our eyes lock in the mirror for a moment, but I can’t hold his stare. I avert my gaze. He did say I was going to be a handful. I’ve never been a handful in my entire life. My life has always been controlled. My parents were the first ones to do it. I ended up having to get emancipated from them when I was seventeen, only to fall into the hands of my agent and manager. I’m not sure who was the lesser of two evils. Moving to Vegas was the first time I pushed back and did something I wanted to do.

I’ve been traveling and doing tours since I was thirteen. My life never feels settled. I thought Vegas would be better for me. I can still perform but also try to make some sort of home. That doesn't look like it will be happening anytime soon with a stalker. I’d be scared to stay alone, even if I had top notch security. Whoever this guy is, he doesn’t seem deterred by anything we’ve done so far. He keeps getting into places he shouldn't. I don’t understand how it’s possible. “All of these are from men,” Cyrus' deep voice mumbles. I can’t quite make out the look on his face. “It’s like this every day. Everyone wants a piece of her,” Becca responds. Cyrus’s face turns cold. Everyone but him wants a piece of me. I watch as he pockets all the cards. “No more ﬂowers.” “Why?” Not that I really care. They can stick them somewhere else for all I care. “Are you going to question me on everything?” I shake my head no. “Dick,” Becca mumbles under her breath. I bite the inside of my cheek. “People can put whatever they want in them.” He pulls out a wire thing from one of them, dropping it onto the ﬂoor before crushing it with his foot. Holy crap. My stomach turns. “They're just listening, right?” I ask, my stomach dropping. “There’s no video?” That would be leaked everywhere. “Only audio.”

I take a breath, trying to calm myself. “Well, I hope they enjoyed me talking to Kittypu .” Becca steps back, having finished with my hair. I walk over to the clothes rack and grab my first outfit. Becca cleans up her area. “See you later,” she says before slipping out. I step out of my heels and pull my dress over my head before tossing it on the sofa. “What the fuck are you doing?” “Changing.” I drop my bra next and grab the pink one covered in diamonds. I shimmy into the high waisted tight black pants before putting my heels back on that match the bra. “You just change in front of people?” His fists are clenched at his side. “Yeah, I have to do it all the time for wardrobe changes.” “Not anymore,” he responds. “But…” A double knock sounds at the door before it swings open and Kenny pops his head in. “Show time.” “No one said you could come in. You knock, and then wait for a fucking response. She could have been naked.” Kenny’s eyes bounce between Cyrus and me. “I’m ready.” Kenny nods and then takes a step back to hold the door open for me. “Are the dancers ready too?”

“Yeah.” I move toward the door but stop when an arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back. “Get out,” he barks at Kenny. His tone is so deadly that Kenny hops to it without question. Cyrus spins me around. I have to drop my head all the way back to meet his gaze, but my eyes want to drop to his mouth. My heart starts to pound with excitement. “Keep your clothes on. Got it?” I nod, my heart pounding. Every time this man touches me, I can’t help but agree to whatever it is he asks of me. I think that’s the ﬁrst time any man has ever said that to me. He releases his hold on me and steps back. “Let’s go,” he orders. That lonely feeling I always have hits me harder than normal for some reason. I push it down and paste a smile onto my face, turning myself into the girl everyone wants me to be before I stroll out of the room.

5 CYRUS

“Y

our full fucking name.” I glare down at Kenny, who stutters out, “Kenneth Lee Carruthers.”

I add him to my list, then keep an eye on Fiona as she steps onto a small round platform. The crowd is buzzing, ready to see her perform. For a moment, I get the urge to grab her. Just fucking grab her and run somewhere, take her like a fucking caveman and hide her away until she realizes she’s not a doll for other people to put makeup and clothes on, to paint how they want, to see every bit of her skin and make her dance for them. But then the music starts to build, and the showrunner appears in front of her. Gerald is his name. I’ve collected a full roster of everyone working on this show. Dollars to donuts, her stalker has insinuated himself into the production somehow. I just have to ﬁnd him. It’s like a fucked-up game of Guess Who or Where’s Waldo at this point. But I’ll ﬁnd him. I already have a nice spot out in the desert in mind. Sandy, hot, and remote.

Gerald does a silent countdown, and Fiona’s platform begins to move upward to the stage. She shoots me a look, one I can’t read. Not yet. But if I had to guess, I’d say it was fear mixed with exhilaration. She’s a star, after all. As she rises, I climb the stairs to stage level and stay hidden o stage right. She pops up, her blond ponytail bouncing as she starts to sing, and the crowd loses its fucking mind. That ponytail—I grit my teeth. She’s a brat, a little sassy scrap of a thing that needs someone to redden her ass. I roll my shoulders and remind myself I’m not the one. This is my work. I need to protect her, find the asshole who’s threatening her, get paid, and go back home. Fiona is magnetic, her charisma in the high notes of her pitch-perfect voice and the way she owns the stage. When she starts dancing, her body moving like water, my mouth goes dry. She’s a goddess on the stage, and it’s no wonder Frankie snapped her up when he had the chance. She’s gold. “Not bad, eh?” Kenny stands next to me, his eyes on Fiona. “She’s really got that certain something.” I size him up. He’s got beady eyes and a particularly terrible taste for Hawaiian shirts. When his tongue darts out to his lips as he watches my girl, I fist my hands. “Stop looking at her,” I growl loud enough to be heard over the music. He turns to me. “What? I’m in charge of costume changes on this side of the stage.” He gestures to a rack with two feathery outfits on it. I do the math. Kenny is plenty close enough to Fiona’s dressing room and other areas of her life that he could be the guy I’m after. And I don’t like the way he’s looking at her. In

fact, I find that I want to beat him into a fine pink mist for just looking at her with lust in his eyes. “If you don’t get the fuck away from me and keep your eyes to yourself, I’m going to break your neck.” It’s not a threat. It’s a fact of what’s about to happen to him if he doesn’t stop gawking at Fiona. And just the idea of him looking at her naked during her outfit change has me pulling my black gloves from my pocket. He backs up a step. “But I have to—” I follow him. He finally realizes that the churning in his gut, the primal fear that’s making his bladder weak—it’s because I’m perfectly willing to kill him right here, right now. When it finally hits him, he turns and runs into the dark backstage area. Fiona’s voice falls away from the music as he disappears, and I turn to find her right behind me. “Where’s Kenny?” She starts pulling at her top. “I need to change.” I grab her and cage her body between me and the curtain. “What are you—” “No one gets to see your skin. I meant what I said, siren.” I yank the nearest dress from the rack. “The other one with the feathers.” She strips, her body bare and warm and dewy with sweat. Fuck, the things I want to do to her. What I wouldn’t give to be able to drop to my knees and inhale the scent of her cunt.

Her hard nipples are right there, almost brushing against me. I could steal a lick. Just a taste. But I won’t. I can’t. She looks up at me, her cheeks red from exertion or something else. “Cyrus?” Her voice is breathier now, a little husky, and I wonder if I reached between her thighs would I ﬁnd her wet for me? My cock is already straining against my pants, but the thought of her pussy slick with need sends it to a new level of hard. Fuck, I’m losing my mind, and I just met this girl. And she’s a job. Just a job. I repeat that to myself on inﬁnite loop. My cock isn’t listening, though. “Here.” I wrap the strapless feathery thing around her body. She turns and reaches up to pull the end of her ponytail out of my way. Why is that one of the sexiest movements a woman can make? Simply lifting her hair? Because when she does it, need starts to ride me like a fucking jockey from hell. “It’s Velcro. Makes it easy,” she says over her shoulder with her big bedroom eyes on me. I fasten the feather corset closed right as the music changes. She turns to me and adjusts the front to cover her breasts a bit more evenly. “Thanks.” She gives me a sultry smile, then changes her face into a mask of upbeat happiness. For some reason, the mask she wears makes a part of me hurt. How long has she been doing this, and who taught her to hide herself behind a toohappy façade? With a deep breath, she runs back out onto stage in her toohigh heels and starts belting out lyrics that have the crowd singing along. A star. That’s what she is.

But stars like her that shine so brightly—they do it alone. I saw it in her eyes, in the way she hugged her cat like he was her lifeline. For a moment I think maybe I could be that for her instead. A safe harbor. And not just as a job. But then something in the crowd catches my eye. I can’t see the gun. But someone along the middle aisle has taken a familiar stance. One I saw in the military. One that means he’s about to pull the trigger. “Fiona!” I yell and run for her, tackling her to the stage as the shot rings out and the screaming starts.

6 FIONA

hard body lands on me, grunting, knocking all the air out of my lungs. I’d heard the blast of the gun even with the music blaring all around. It’s often hard to see into the crowd with the lights hitting you in the face. How close did I just come to dying? The only thing keeping me calm is the knowledge that it’s Cyrus on top of me. “Baby.” I blink up into the same dark gaze that keeps holding me captive. Did he call me baby? “Fiona.” I watch his mouth move this time, knowing he said my name. He pulls a gun out and aims it up. I follow his line of sight as he ﬁres a shot. I watch as it hits the batten that holds the stage curtains, making them fall to cover the stage. He pulls me to my feet and across the stage. I have to run to keep up with him as we enter the main backstage hallway. He starts to pass my dressing room, but I pull on his hand. He doesn't stop, and I almost topple over in my heels, but he catches me once again. “Kittypu . I’m not leaving without him.” He locks his eyes with mine. “Fighting me will only take longer.”

“Not if I pick you up.” Even as he says it he reaches for the handle of the door. I can still hear the screams coming from the crowd. My stomach turns, and I pray no one gets hurt because of me. “Fuck,” Cyrus shouts. “Kittypu !” I scream, trying to run into the room, but he stops me, going in first to do a quick check. Tears spring to my eyes as I look around. All the flowers and vases have been destroyed. The broken pieces are spread everywhere. My stu es are gutted with their insides littering the floor. Kittypu pokes his head out from behind the little loveseat. I dash over and grab him, never having had such a feeling of relief in my life. I don’t have time to kiss him because Cyrus is once again pulling me out of the dressing room. People run past, and I hear another gunshot, but I keep moving, knowing this man must have a plan. Cyrus pushes through an emergency exit, setting o the alarm. The door slams loudly behind us as the dry desert air hits me. A car comes barreling toward us. Cyrus pushes me behind him, keeping his gun out. The car comes to a screeching halt right in front of us. I peek around Cyrus as a man in a black shirt and pair of jeans jumps out. Cyrus opens the passenger side door. “In.” I do as I’m told. This is not the time to push back. Not that I really ever do. Cyrus leans down, pulling the seat belt over me. His hand comes to my chin, turning my face each way, checking me over with gentle care. It’s not something I would expect from someone who looks like him. He slams the door and rounds the car as he and the other man share a few words. Then he slips into the driver seat and

takes o after dropping the gun in the seat between us along with a phone. Kittypu sits in my lap curled into a ball. I can feel his little body shaking. I try to soothe him by petting him. I know he can be a tough guy, but his start in life wasn't the best either. “You’re okay. Cyrus is going to keep us safe.” I scratch under his chin, and he starts to relax some. I steal peeks over at Cyrus. Cyrus doesn't say a word as he zips in and out of lanes likes it’s nothing. I can see the tension in his body even though each one of his moves is done with ease. It reminds me of how I dance. I know the moves and routine the same as my body knows to breathe. Tonight was di erent, though. I did what I was supposed to, but I rode the edge of fear. Something felt o . When he hits the highway, his tension ﬁnally eases a bit. His eyes go from the road to the rearview mirror. The silence stretches as the car eats up miles of the highway, making me wonder where we’re going. The farther we get from the casino, the more I realize I’m alone with a man I don’t really know. Still, no fear comes. Only the need to ﬁll the silence. “I don’t know how to drive,” I blurt out. He glances my way for a moment. “I really don’t know how to do a lot of things. Pay bills, cook, go to the grocery store. Isn’t that crazy?” “Pampered?” I drop my head to focus on Kittypu , not sure if Cyrus is being rude or not. He’s hard to read. Sometimes I think he’s jealous. That he might hate the idea of others seeing me naked, but then I realize he might just not want me picking up more admirers.

“I suppose.” I’d like to do those things, but no one ever really gave me the option. “Did anyone get hurt back there?” “Not sure.” He shrugs, not seeming to care. There is a deadly air that always seems to surround him. I’m sure there’s a reason for that coldness that he carries in his eyes. Why do I want to warm it? That would be playing with fire, and no doubt I would get burned. “I’m not doing any more shows. Not at the risk of other people's lives.” “Good. I thought that was going to be a fight.” I shake my head. “But I’m sure Frankie will have something to say about it,” I remind him. “Please don’t make me go back.” He lifts his hand, his thumb brushing my cheek. His serious stare is long gone and replaced with a gentleness I haven’t seen before. “Not going to make you do anything you don’t want to. My job is to keep you safe.” He drops his hand, his attention going back to the road. Right. I forgot, to him I’m only a job. I’m always something. Never a person. And definitely not someone to love.

7 CYRUS

hen we pull up to the private airstrip, Fiona’s eyes go wide.

“What are we doing here?” “Flying.” I jump out of the car and run around to help her out. She holds her cat close as she gets to her feet. “We’re ﬂying away? What will Frankie do?” “Frankie will have a shitstorm on his hands. He won’t be ready for you to take the stage anytime soon. Not when the entire auditorium is a crime scene.” “Oh.” She edges closer to me as I take her elbow and guide her toward my Cessna that’s already waiting outside the hangar. Dane called and took care of it just like I told him. He’s my only close associate in Sin City. Even so, I can’t trust him with Fiona. Not when she needs me to take care of her. So we’re leaving. “I can send for your things if you need—” “I don’t need anything.” She kisses the cat on the crown of his head. “Just Kittypu and me. We’re good.”

“Your phone?” I ask. “I don’t have one.” I stop. “What? Why not?” She shrugs, her eyes falling to the pavement as I reach the Cessna and open the door for her. “My parents always manage to find the number. So I don’t give them the chance.” Fuck, the hurt in her voice tears me apart inside. “Hey.” I gently lift her chin until she meets my gaze. “I don’t know that story, but I want to know it. I want to know you. And even though I don’t have the details, I can already tell you that any shame you feel—you shouldn’t. Whatever it is, it wasn’t your fault.” She blinks, her eyes suddenly watery. “No one’s ever—” She cuts herself o as if she’s afraid she’ll cry. “I’ve got you, Fiona. Don’t worry.” I help her into the aircraft and strap her in. “Is there a belt for Kittypu ?” she asks as I climb up next to her and close the hatch. “He’ll be fine. Just hold him tight.” I have the urge to lean over and kiss her. Nothing predatory. Nothing skeezy. Just something to tell her that everything’s all right. But after what she just went through, it would be wrong. She’s probably in shock, her adrenaline on the verge of wearing o . When that happens— She yawns. “I’m so tired. I mean, I should be terrified. Someone shot at me, someone busted up my dressing room, and I’m in pretty much constant danger—not to mention,

look, I’m in a tiny plane.” She yawns again. “But all I want to do is sleep.” “It’s normal.” I get the engine going and pull on my headset to clear my takeo . Once I’ve got it handled, I taxi us onto the runway. “It’s not normal.” She says it quietly, so much so that I almost miss it beneath the sound of the engine. “I never feel safe. Not really. Not safe enough to fall asleep with someone else, much less someone I’ve only known for a few hours.” “I’m not just someone.” I reach out and recline her seat as far as it will go. Her eyes are closed, Kittypu tight ball of fur.

in her lap and curled into a

“Then who are you?” she asks, her voice drowsy and heavy. Sexy, if I’m being honest. “I’m the man for you.” My words are lost as I hit the gas and send us hurtling down the runway and into the night sky.

“We’re here.” I open the hatch and breathe in the cool, crisp air that feels so much like home it makes my heart ache. “Where?” Fiona’s eyes blink open. She’s been asleep for the entire ﬂight, only rousing a little when we touched down. I couldn’t bear to bother her when she seemed so peaceful. Even Kittypu napped, though every so often I’d catch him staring at me with narrow eyes. He looks so tough with that missing ear, but I’m pretty sure if I talked to him just right,

he’d roll over and let me pet his belly. That, or I’ll come away with a bloody stump. I guess we’ll have to ﬁnd out. “Napa, California.” I jump down from the Cessna and stretch, then reach up for her. “I’ve got you.” “I know,” she says quickly, then blushes. She’s beyond beautiful. I can’t even think of a word for what she is. Ethereal, maybe? Or does that mean she’s a ghost? I’ve never been much for words, so I suppose there’s no point in trying to start now. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to Napa. There’s wine, right?” I lead her to my black Mercedes parked beside the small hangar. “Plenty of it. My family owns a vineyard here.” “Wow.” She drops into the passenger seat, her eyes on the sky before she sinks all the way down. “There are so many stars here.” “It’s a beautiful place.” I close the door and run around to the driver’s side. Though I know it’s safe, I still give my family’s private air strip a quick scan. No movement. Winston’s plane is in the hangar, and I’ll send Linden over in the morning to tighten up my Cessna, fuel it, and store it. “So you’re from here?” She’s awake now, her wide eyes taking everything in. “Yes.” I pull out onto the highway and head up into the hills above the valley. “Why would you ever leave?” She stares out the windshield at the hillsides full of vines and fruit trees. “Even at night,

it’s so pretty.” She turns the cat so he’s facing forward. “Look, Kittypu . It’s like a dream.” I don’t have an easy answer to her question, and I hope she’ll forget she asked it. But she doesn’t. “So why are you in Vegas when you could be here?” “You don’t have to be in Vegas either,” I remind her. “I kind of do.” She sighs. “I need a break. The tours are so draining. On top of that, I have a stalker and a set of parents who keep suing me for money, even though they already took every penny I had before I was emancipated.” My grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Where are your parents?” She shrugs. “Last I heard they were living a coke-fueled nightmare inside a Beverly Hills mansion. That’s what the tabloids say, anyway, not that I read them anymore. No phone.” She smiles sadly. “It’s easier if I don’t know.” I make a mental note to find and slowly murder her parents. But first things first. “So that’s why you took a job with Frankie? For a break?” “That and I was hoping I could call Vegas hom—” She squeals. I hit the brakes, stopping short of mowing down a small herd of deer in the road. “Are they real?” She leans forward. “Real?” I don’t understand her question. “Like real deer?” “Yeah. You mean, not pets?”

“I mean—Oh, look!” One darts o , and the others follow, leaping into the low brush along the roadside. “You’ve never seen a deer before?” “No. Never.” She smiles, her entire face lighting up. “Just on TV. Oh my God, Kittypu , I’m shaking. That was magical!” Not so magical when they raid the vineyards and we have to go hunting. But I don’t mention that. In fact, I feel like there are a lot of things that Fiona’s kind soul doesn’t need to know about. She leans back and sighs dreamily. “Okay, now you. Tell me why you left.” I groan. My plan of keeping things from her is already taking a hit. When she turns those clever, sweet eyes on me, I know I’m going to give in. And what’s worse? I know it’s not just going to be this time.

8 FIONA

will never understand leaving a home as breathtaking as this one. There is so much beautiful space. Even the air out here is di erent. It’s lighter and sweet. For the ﬁrst time in a long time, I feel a sense of peace. Which is crazy after the night I just had. The sky here seems as if it goes on for miles and miles without obstruction, allowing the stars to light up the darkness instead of the glare from a city. This is what I would call paradise. Not a beach with a cabana and fruity drinks. This. I drink it in as I wait for him to tell his story. He already knows mine. There’s little to tell. I was eaten up by a machine that thrives on young talent like mine. Chewed up, spit out, and I’ll be chewed up all over again if I make a new record or get my name in the headlines. No, thank you. My sad song is overplayed. I want to hear a new one. Maybe Cyrus’s story will have a happy ending. I hope so. I wait and listen as Kittypu snoozes in my lap. It’s tough for me to sit in silence, but I do my best.

“We had a shit year.” Cyrus finally gives. From the groan he let out when I asked why he left here to go to Vegas, I know he doesn't really want to share his story. Sometimes it's good to talk about things. At least that’s what people say. I’ve never felt I could trust someone enough to do that. The two people I was supposed to trust the most in life ruined that for me. My parents were my first lesson in betrayal. They took a lot more from me than money. “My first boyfriend sold a story about me to one of those gossip rags. Told everyone I was a terrible kisser. I was fourteen. At the time, it felt like the end of the world,” I blurt out, revealing one of my own secrets. He was mad when I broke up with him. “For the record, I thought he was the bad kisser. I suppose it’s not a secret if you decided to do a little digging. I haven’t kissed another boy since. No matter what the tabloids said about all the men I supposedly dated over the years.” Cyrus glances over at me, his eyes dropping to my mouth. I lick my lips. “I find that hard to believe.” “Everyone always sells stories,” I sigh. “I meant about you being a bad kisser.” “Oh.” I bite my lip. A part of me wishes he would ask me to show him. He sighs, and for the first time, I realize he’s carrying an invisible burden. “My brother and I were in a motorcycle accident a few years ago. A trailer hauling logs lost control, causing one of them to break free. I didn't react fast enough.”

I gasp. “Like that movie ‘Final Destination’?” That had to be terrifying. I can’t imagine. In the short time I’ve known Cyrus, I’ve seen his reaction skills. He saved my life tonight because of them. “We lived. Barely. My brother was worse o

than me.”

I can see the pain written all over his face. “I’m sorry.” I reach over and place my hand on his. He stills for a minute. He’s softening toward me. The fact that he even shared this with me clues me in to that. “Your turn.” Right, he wants more. Maybe my sad little life is obvious to anyone who reads the tabloids, but not to him. He doesn’t know me, but I want him to. The real me. I take a deep breath to ready myself to tell Cyrus things I’ve never admitted out loud to any other human being. “My parents got me for a hundred million before I knew what was happening.” Cyrus lets out a string of curses, some that make my ears practically sizzle. “They’re still trying to claim the rights to the music I made before I was seventeen. It’s why I’m ﬁghting them in court.” It feels as though it’s never going to end. “I’ve thought about saying forget it. Telling them that they can have it all. Even if every time I sing one of those songs at an event I’d have to pay them. But then they win.” “They’d be out of your life, though.” His jaw is tight. I nod. I think that’s another reason I haven't done it. As mad as I am at them, it’s still hard to let go.

“I fucked up.” He lets out a long breath. “I wasn't in the hospital as long as my brother Winston, but I was there every day by his side. I let things at the vineyard fall through the cracks, and I paid the ultimate price. We lost everything in one of the wildfires. I’d missed an insurance payment. Policy lapsed. It left us with almost nothing.” The defeat in his voice breaks my heart. “But you’re rebuilding?” I don’t take Cyrus as a man that would give up easily. “I’m trying. I owe it to my brother. I’ve got the house rebuilt. It’s where we’ll stay.” “And that’s why you’re in Vegas? To work for Frankie and make money?” He nods. How much money would you need to rebuild a vineyard? I find myself wanting to call my financial advisor and cut him a check, but I have no doubt Cyrus wouldn't take it. “If you hadn't been there tonight, I might be dead.” He turns his hand and locks his fingers with mine. A real connection. One that I feel down to my toes. Would anyone truly have missed me beyond what I can do for them? I look out the window, my eyes burning with tears. Because I’m pretty sure the answer is no. But maybe Cyrus could be that person … I don’t know yet. “I’m not going to let this sick bastard get to you.” I turn back to Cyrus, wanting to believe him. I’m already finding that I trust him. That should scare me, but it doesn't. There is this calm when I’m near him. This feeling that everything is going to be okay.

I squeeze his warm ﬁngers a little. “I guess we’re both kind of trying to start over.” “I’m not sure Vegas is somewhere someone should start over.” I laugh. “Yeah, but I would get to stay in one place. Sure, I could call it quits. I’ve done well these past few years out from under my parents, but the reality is the stage is really the only place that feels like home. The one thing that’s been consistent in my life.” The car rolls to a stop. I look out the window to see a majestic house that seems like it was dropped down straight from Italy. Cyrus exits the car, coming around and opening the door for me. Kittypu hops down on his own. Cyrus o ers me his hand. I take it, and he shuts the car door behind me. “Can I show you something?” he asks. I nod. He steps towards me, his body pressing into mine as he slowly lowers his head, making it clear he’s going to kiss me. I stop breathing when his mouth grazes mine, my eyes falling closed in anticipation. His tongue darts out and licks the seam of my mouth. I gasp, parting my lips for him. His tongue slips in, tangling with mine. I moan, sliding my hands up his chest then around his neck. My feet leave the ground as he pins me to the side of the car. He grips my ponytail, tilting my head back more to deepen the kiss. His ﬁngers tangle in my hair as he pulls the elastic free. I nip his bottom lip, knowing he got what he wanted as far as me wearing my hair down tonight. He lets out a groan,

and the kiss goes from slow and sweet to wild and full of passion. When he breaks away, we both have to try and catch our breath. He lowers me to my feet gently, my head spinning. With a smirk, he leads me up the front stairs of the beautiful villa. “Your ex was full of shit.”

9 CYRUS

he house is just as amazing as it used to be, grander even. Mom would approve. She came from a super religious family that was extremely set on keeping yourself and your things plain, so, naturally, when she got away from them, she loved to decorate in over-thetop style. White marble floors in the foyer and a chandelier high overhead—overdone and breathtaking. But that’s where the extra grandeur ends. The rest of the house is done with wood floors and a more homey style. It all reminds me of the way it used to be before Mom and Dad died, before the accident, and before the fires. “You okay?” Fiona squeezes my hand. “Yeah, sorry.” I guess I’d sort of frozen in the entryway. Too many memories and thoughts. “It’s okay if you’re not okay.” She leans against me, and Kittypu trots away past the wide staircase and down the hall that leads to the kitchen. “I’m fine. Let’s get you set up here.”

“Where’s your bro—” “Holy shit!” Winston calls from the top of the stairs, then thunders down them, his limp barely noticeable. “You’re home! I mean, it’s 2 in the morning, but you’re home.” He grins and barrels ahead, catching me in a hug that knocks the wind out of me. A slightly taller version of our dad, he’s wearing the same SoCal T-shirt he’s had for ages and the flannel pajama pants Mom got us at least five years ago. “You should lock your front door,” I say through his hard pats on my back. “Our door? Nah. It’s always open. Especially for you.” He releases me, his face only slightly groggy, and turns to Fiona. “And who do we have here?” For the first time in pretty much ever, jealousy flares inside me. Jealous of Winston, my little brother. It’s wrong and fucked up, but it doesn’t change the feeling. “I’m Fiona.” She steps up and threads her arm through mine. That little motion soothes me in ways I didn’t know existed. “Welcome, Fiona. Cy, you could’ve told me you were coming, man. It’s been so long that I started worrying you were trying to avoid me.” He steps back and looks at me. I don’t miss the sliver of hurt in his voice. “Not avoiding you, just trying to get enough money to restart the vineyard.” “I’m working on it, too.” He shrugs. “Developing a new app that I think Silicon Valley is going to cream itself for once I —” I clear my throat and jerk my chin toward Fiona.

“Err, I mean not ‘cream itself’, that’s um, I mean—” “I’m in showbiz. There’s absolutely nothing you could say that would shock me.” Fiona smiles, and even after what she went through and the way her life has given her nothing but pain, warmth lives in her eyes and the sweet tone of her voice. “I’m so glad to meet you …” She lets it trail o , and I realize I haven’t introduced them. “Winston,” I ﬁll in. “My little brother.” He smirks at that but gives her a nod. “Welcome to our home.” “Thanks.” “Can I ask what brings you two here at such a strange hour?” He cocks his head to the side just like Dad used to do. “No point asking.” I don’t tell him what I do in Vegas, but I’m sure he can guess. “Someone tried to kill me, and Cyrus is protecting me.” Every tiny trace of sleep leaves his face as his mouth falls open. “Yeah.” Fiona nods. “I was onstage and everything. My stalker is mad now, I guess. I don’t know what set him o . Before he just did creepy stu , but now he’s trying to kill me.” “You’re safe here.” I pull my arm from hers and wrap it around her shoulder. She snuggles against me, my heart beating double time at the nearness of her.

Winston looks at her, then me, then her, then me again. At least he closes his mouth. “So we’re going to kick the shit out of this guy?” he asks me. “I am. But for now, she needs to rest.” “Kittypu !” she calls, and the furball comes running. “There’s a cat.” Winston sounds bemused. “He’s a great houseguest. I promise.” “Sure.” He shrugs. “I’ll get Linden to pick up cat stu from town tomorrow. I assume he’ll need to check your plane?” “Yes, that’d be great.” “You sure you’re not going to tell me more? I mean, a stalker sounds kind of heavy duty. Should I get guns or something?” He brings his ﬁngers up and goes pew pew. “I’ve got it under control.” I shake my head. “I’m just happy to be here.” Fiona stares up at the staircase. “It’s so pretty.” “Thanks.” He grins. “It’s all Cy’s doing. I just hang out here in the lap of luxury while he does—” He shrugs. “Whatever it is that he does in Vegas. Sure you don’t want to give me some more details?” I shake my head. “Fine.” He sighs. “Come on, I’ve been meaning to show you your room anyway. And the guest rooms are mostly ﬁnished, so Fiona can stay—” “With me.” I say the words before I even think about them.

“Okay, cool.” He leads us up the stairs, and Fiona gives me a smile so radiant I might combust. Kittypu follows us down the hall, and Winston opens two heavy French doors. “This …” I can’t put it into words. It has the same feel as my old bedroom, the one that burned to nothing but ash. The same navy walls and wood ﬂoors, and even a few trophies Winston must’ve salvaged from the wreckage. “How did you manage this?” I pull my lacrosse trophy from a small shelf near the large back windows. “The metal was only a little out of shape. I got Linden to ﬁnd someone who could hammer it back out and add the little wooden thing at the bottom.” “Nice.” Fiona points to another cup on the shelf. “This one says you were the best ‘defender’.” She nods. “Sounds about right.” I’d locked away those memories, the thoughts of the good times Winston and I used to have. I had to; otherwise the guilt would’ve eaten me alive. If only I’d acted faster when that log came at us, he’d be all right. As it is, though, because I failed to protect him, he had to learn to walk again. Some defender I am. I put the trophy back on the shelf and turn away from it. “This will do. Thanks.” Winston’s face falls a little, and he opens his mouth to say something, then thinks better of it. “I, um, I’ll head back to bed. Let me know if you need anything. The bathroom is stocked, and there’s plenty of food downstairs.” “Thanks, Winston.” Fiona takes over and walks him to the doors. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” He pauses before he goes. “And I mean that for both of you.” I keep my eyes on the window, on the barren hillsides that should be covered in vines and grapes. But they aren’t. Because of all my fuckups. The doors close quietly, and Fiona kicks her shoes o walks over to me.

then

“You okay?” She runs her hand down my arm. That simple touch seems to ignite all the emotions inside me, the ones I kept bundled up and tucked away. The ones I thought were turning to dust. Instead, they turned into dynamite, and the girl with the sad story and the hopeful eyes is the fuse. Without warning, I turn and scoop her into my arms. She makes a high-pitched sound of surprise as I lay her on the bed and claim her mouth, continuing our kiss from earlier and turning every bit of my wild emotion on her, on tasting her, and on pleasing her. I can’t save myself. I couldn’t save my brother. But I’ll be damned if I don’t save Fiona. “Cyrus.” She barely gets my name out before I take her mouth again, owning her. She wraps her arms around my neck, her warm body soft beneath mine. I need more. I need to feel her bare skin, to taste her nipples and the valley between her thighs. Making her come will quiet the storm inside me. That’s what I tell myself as I slide my hand between us and into her panties. As I circle her clit and feel her buck

underneath me, her tongue moving more desperately against mine. If I make her come, I’ll settle down. I’ll do my job. So I stroke her clit faster and kiss her neck, sucking and licking as she gasps and moans beneath me, her small body twisting tight with need. When I plunge my ﬁnger inside her, she comes, her body arching as I take her pleasure and lick it o her skin. She’s perfect, trusting, and innocent. Her climax is breathy and strong, her body so ready for me. Just me. I revel in her, in how she reacts to me. And like a fucking fool, I thought this taste would bring me to my senses. Instead, all I want is to do it again. And again. And again. I’m so fucked.

10 FIONA

wake to the all too familiar purring sounds. Kittypu ’s little body vibrates against me. He’s such a good fur baby. I reach down to pet him, my eyes flying open when I feel a hand already doing it. Cyrus. My eyes meet his gaze, and my heart gives a flutter. I lick my lips, not really sure how you do this whole morning after thing. Does what happened even count? We didn’t go all the way, but he did make me orgasm with his fingers. My face starts to warm as I remember what happened. “Morning, beautiful.” He reaches over and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. This must be how Kittypu feels when I give him attention. I find myself wanting to lean into Cyrus’s touch. “Hi” is all I can get out. My thoughts are too scattered to form a full sentence at this point. Kittypu has made himself right at home, having wedged himself between Cyrus and me. Cyrus doesn't look like he minds at all. He’s petting my flu y brat, and Kittypu is letting him. I suppose I’m not the only one with a crush. “You passed out on me.”

“Oh God.” I pull the blanket over my head, hiding myself. I hear him let out a deep chuckle that’s too damn sexy before he pulls the blanket back o my head. “You’re good for a man’s ego.” “Hush.” I smack his chest. He laughs, grabbing my hand and pulling me up on top of him. I let out a small scream. Kittypu makes his exit, giving a disapproving look before I hear him jump down from the bed. “I want my morning kiss.” How did this man go from the deadly silent type that acted like he didn't like me to this sweet and charming man in such a short time? I love that he feels comfortable enough to share this side of himself with me. “Morning breath.” “Don’t give a shit.” His hand grips my hair, and he pulls me down for a kiss. I moan into his mouth, kissing him back. I thought for so long kissing was overrated. I was wrong. He releases me after a moment. “If I don’t stop, we’ll never get out of this bed.” “I’m not sure I see a problem with that.” He lets out a groan but rolls us over so he’s on top of me this time. He kisses me again, making me get lost in him. Too soon, he’s jumping from the bed. “I need to feed you.” He runs his hand through his hair. The act makes him look younger. My eyes trace down his body, taking in every hard line. His chest is covered in a thin layer of hair. He looks every bit of a man and not one of those models who are waxed and plucked.

“Fiona.” I snap my eyes back up right before they start to dip lower. “I’ll get you some pants.” He walks over to a closet and comes back a moment later with a pair of boxers. I take them from him and slip them on under the shirt he’d given me last night. I have to roll them a few times to get them to stay put. I feel sexier standing in front of him in these clothes than I ever have in any of my stage costumes. “I’ll meet you downstairs,” he says, then gives me one last look before he leaves the bedroom. I could go to sleep in one country and wake up in another. I’m used to my life changing with the ﬂip of a coin. Living that way has become the norm for me. This, though, with Cyrus, I never in a million years could have seen coming. I make quick work in the bathroom, wanting to be back near Cyrus. I leave my hair down since I know that’s how he likes it. When I enter the kitchen, he’s standing at the stove. His brother is sitting at the kitchen island with a laptop in front of him. “Morning,” Winston says. His smile comes easily. “Morning,” I answer. He pulls out the chair next to him with his foot. I take it. Kittypu has made himself at home on the counter, where he’s eating something out of a bowl. “How do you take your co ee?” Cyrus asks, turning from the stove. He put a stupid shirt on. “I don’t. Water is ﬁne.” “No co ee?” Winston says in shock. “To be honest, sometimes I sneak a soda in the morning.”

“Sneak?” Cyrus asks as he walks over to the refrigerator. He pulls out a Coke for me. “Yeah, they don’t openly tell me I can’t eat this or that, but people make comments.” I take a sip and let out a small moan, closing my eyes and enjoying the burn. Cyrus clears his throat. “Sorry.” My face starts to heat. Cyrus gets back to making breakfast. My stomach growls when I realize he’s making pancakes with bacon. I haven’t had that in a really long time. It’s one of my absolute favorites. “I still need a list of your exes. We have to start narrowing the suspects down.” He opens a drawer and searches around until he ﬁnds a pen and piece of paper. He hands it to me. I’m guessing he wants me to do it now. “That list is going to be long,” Winston says with a low whistle. “I’m not shaming you or anything,” he rushes to say. “But you’ve dated what a lot of people consider to be some of the hottest men in the world.” I jump when a pan comes down hard onto the counter. Oops Winston mouths. I stare back at him. He seems to know a little too much about the hottest men in the world and also about my dating life. “You know who I am?” “Fiona Herring. Yeah, I wanted you to feel relaxed here so I didn’t freak out or anything when I recognized you earlier. Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask for an autograph,” he says. “Not today anyway.” He winks, making me laugh. “Will you two stop ﬂirting and let her make the damn list? Sounds like it might take a while,” Cyrus grumbles.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Winston holds his hands up in mock surrender. I think Cyrus forgot about me pretty much admitting to him I’ve only ever kissed one boy before. In his defense, a lot has happened. I’m sure that’s the last thing on his mind. “I’m not after your girl,” Winston tells his brother. I don’t think he’s after any girl at all, to tell you the truth. “We’ll start with Brandon.” I write his name down. “You were the height of his career,” Winston says, making me laugh. He really did fall o the map after that. Cyrus gives us another look. “Cy.” I say his name gently. His face softens. “That would be my whole list unless you want me to put all of the fake relationships.” “What? No way. That shit wasn’t real?” Winston asks. “Not at all. Fake dates and movie premieres. It’s all part of the game. We give each other publicity.” Cyrus relaxes even more at my explanation. “It’s all smoke and mirrors, nothing real.” I push the paper to the side. “Not even Jameson? You two had chemistry.” A growl comes from Cyrus. I shouldn't ﬁnd it both hot and adorable that he's jealous about this, but I do. He wants me for himself. “We were really good friends. Still are, but he travels a ton for work.” “Friends?” Winston lifts his brows.

“Let’s just say I’m not his type, so it made it easy for us to be close.” “Good to know. Now maybe my brother will stop taking his anger out on the cookware and make our breakfast.” I burst into laughter. Winston joins me. I don’t miss the smirk on Cyrus’s lips. This feels nice. Normal. I could get used to something like this. Even if it might never really be mine.

11 CYRUS

racing Brandon should be easy, and the rest of her boyfriends weren’t actually close with her. I shouldn’t feel one way or another about that, but I do. I’m glad she doesn’t have any entanglements. That makes keeping her here easy. It also means … that maybe I have a shot with her. I shouldn’t be thinking that way, but I am. I’ve told myself over and over that she’s a job, nothing more. But last night proved otherwise. She came for me, fell apart in my arms as I gave her what she needed. And then she passed out, utterly spent and comfortable. Safe with me. She slept sweetly beside me as thoughts tumbled through my mind. Like what I’m going to do when I ﬁnd her stalker, what to say when Frankie calls—and he’s deﬁnitely going to call—and what I’ll do when she leaves. Just the idea of her leaving and never coming back sets my teeth on edge. “Dude, put the mug down. You’re going to shatter it.” Winston takes my empty co ee cup from my hands. “You all right?” “Yeah, just thinking.”

He raises a brow at my white knuckles. “Try and do less of that.” He limps to the sink and starts rinsing dishes for the dishwasher. The whole setup here is perfect. Two huge fridges set into the wall, plenty of cabinets, a wide gas range, and double ovens big enough to fit a feast inside. I chose the tile for the wall, a robin’s egg blue that our father used to favor. He painted his old fishing boat that color even though his friends gave him shit about it. “You thinking about the boat?” Winston asks when he sees me staring at the tile. “There’s a boat?” Fiona asks and finishes her last bite of bacon. “And, oh my God, this was amazing. A girl could get used to this food baby.” She rubs her stomach, and for a fleeting moment, I imagine her filled with my child. Fuck, this girl is already embedded deep under my skin. Winston drops some silverware into the dishwasher. “Yeah, our dad used to fish.” “He didn’t catch much,” I add. “But he still loved to be out on the water. There’s a creek that runs through the property. In the spring, it can be pretty big when the snow runo makes its way here from the mountains. He’d float out there all day, just fishing in his little boat.” I smile. “When I hit about 12 years old, I got too big to go with him anymore. Almost sank the boat a couple of times before he gave up and let me fish from the shore.” “Wow, he sounds like a fun dad.” Fiona puts her hand over mine. “You two must miss him a lot.” “We do.” Winston nods. “That’s why this house has so many things in it to remind us of him and Mom.”

“The tile.” I point at the backsplash. “That’s the color he painted his boat.” She reaches out and runs her fingers along the crackled blue-green glaze. “I love it. Your dad had an eye for color.” “Too bad he didn’t have an eye for picking fishing spots.” Winston grins and goes back to the dishes. I stand and help Fiona to her feet. “So what are we going to do today?” she asks with a smile. “Do you need to practice or anything?” Winston whirls, soap bubbles all over his hands. “I know all the dance moves from your Motivation tour, and I can totally back you up on vocals if you—” “Really? All of them?” Winston shakes his hands o in the sink, then shimmies toward us, his limp all but gone as he swings his hips. “I got it all. I can even do the dead drop you always do at the end of ‘Rack 'Em Up.’ See? Watch.” He spins and sort of leans back as he falls. “Fuck!” I lunge over the bar and grab his shirt before he hits the floor. “What the fuck are you doing?” “Hey!” He scowls up at me. “You ruined it!” Fiona’s laughter is like wind chimes in the summer. And it grows until it’s boisterous and wild. I yank Winston to his feet, and we both turn to watch her doubling over, her cheeks pink as she giggles. Kittypu stares, too, his food forgotten for the moment. When she straightens again, she wipes at her eyes. “You two are more fun than I’ve had in a really, really long time.”

“Didn’t you just come from Vegas?” Winston straightens the front of his shirt. “This place is a million times better.” Her gaze strays to the window and out into the back garden. “I promise.” “You two can do your death-defying dance moves later. I want to show her around first.” I wrap my arm around her waist and lead her out of the kitchen. “Fine, but when you get back, I can be in full makeup if you want,” he calls. I roll my eyes, and it feels like old times. It really does. But then everything else crashes down on me when I remember the mess I made. Winston’s limp, the vineyard gone, and all the bad things I’ve had to do in Vegas to make up for it. “What are you thinking?” Fiona stops and puts a hand to my cheek. “You were happy … and now you, well, aren’t. What happened in here?” She lightly drags her fingertips across my temple. I want to tell her, to really tell her, but burdening her with my endless guilt isn’t going to do anything except maybe make me feel better. She doesn’t need that weight on her. I’m supposed to protect her, not use her as my therapist. “You can tell me,” she says softly. I can’t. I won’t. “Come on. Let’s find you some shoes.” I take her hand and pull her toward the back of the house. “Where are we going?” “I haven’t seen Linden around this morning, so I’m betting the horses need feeding. Winston’s doing dishes, so I figure

it’s only fair.” “Horses?” She bounces on the balls of her feet. “Like real ones?” “You like horses?” I grab a pair of relatively new sneakers from the mud room at the back of the house, then ﬁnd some mismatched socks thrown on top of the dryer. “I love horses!” She claps as I sit her down on the bench by the door and get her sock and shoe situation sorted out. “I mean, I’ve never actually seen one up close, but—” “Never?” I stop stu

ng the too-big shoe with an extra sock.

“No, but I always wanted to ride one. Can we ride one?” Her excitement is like a vibration through the air. “I mean, if that’s okay. It’s ﬁne if we can’t. I don’t want to be a pain in your—” “We can ride for as long as you want.” I stand and pull her to her feet. “Really?” She beams, and I fall right back into her, because how can I resist? I kiss her and grab her ass, lifting her until she’s eye level with me. Pinning her against the wall, I deepen the kiss. When she wraps her legs around me, my hard cock nudges against her hot core. Fuuuuuck, she’s like a furnace between her thighs, and I’m desperate to get burned. We kiss until we’re breathless, and when I pull back, all I can think about is tasting her everywhere. It would be so easy to just slide those boxers down her— My phone rings. It’s Frankie. I know it as sure as I know my girl is wet and needy for me.

She bites her lip. “Do you need to—” I groan and put her down, then turn her toward the back door. “Go on out and wait for me, all right?” “Sure.” She’s eager to get out into the sun where she belongs. I give her a small smack on her tight ass, and she yelps as she hurries out into the bright morning as I push the door open. “Yeah?” I answer. “Bring her back here right now,” Frankie snarls. “No can do.” “The fuck you say?” His voice rises. “She’s my cash cow. Mine. And if she isn’t on my fucking stage, she isn’t making me any money.” “She can’t make you a dime if she’s dead.” I lean against the door frame. “That’s what I hired you for! And what did you do? You let my whole casino get shot up?” “I take it you didn’t catch the guy?” “No, fucking useless security. Useless cops.” “She’s not safe there, Frankie.” I try to sound reasonable even though I want to throat punch him for putting her in danger. “Where are you?” “Somewhere safe.”

“I want her back here in the morning.” I hear something shatter in the background. “Bring her back!” “No can do.” “You’re breaching our agreement.” “Nothing in our agreement said I had to protect her in Vegas. Look, I’m going to find this guy and get rid of him. But I need time, and she needs to be somewhere I can keep her safe. Vegas isn’t that place. Give me a week and—” “A week?” he screeches, and something else shatters. “A week.” I barrel onward. “I’ll do more research, find the guy, and punch his ticket, then Fiona can come back if that’s what she wants to do.” “Who gives a fuck what she wants? She’s under contract, just like you. And you’re on thin fucking ice, Cyrus. You may be the best, but you aren’t invincible.” My grip tightens on the phone. “Frankie, if you want to threaten me, go ahead. But I’ll have you recall the last time someone threatened me. Do you remember what happened to Vargas?” He goes silent for a long while, no doubt recalling the gruesome end of one of Vegas’s most notorious crime bosses. He was untouchable, a monster who preyed on the weak and who put out a contract on me for busting up some of his tra cking operations while I was on another job. Frankie remembers it all, and every one of the crime lords in Vegas knows not to fuck with me. “Vargas, fuck. Did they ever find all of him?” His tone has ratcheted down some.

“They never will.” I smirk. “Give me a week. I’ll be in touch.” I end the call. I have no doubt Frankie just smashed something else in his gilded penthouse, but I don’t care. I open the back door and ﬁnd Fiona picking daisies and sunﬂowers from a garden patch beside the pool. The sun in her hair, the wind caressing her radiant skin—she looks like a goddess of the spring. One I intend to keep close for as long as she’ll let me.

12 FIONA

smile over at Cyrus as he gracefully slips o his horse. After we fed some of the animals, he took me out for a ride to the vineyard. He spent the day showing me every inch of the land. It was easy to see how much pride he has in this place. I have no doubt the fire wrecked him. There’s nothing worse than watching the place you call home go up in flames. “Let me help you.” He o ers me his hands, helping me slip o of Dolly. I slide down him, feeling every inch of his hard body until my feet hit the barn floor. “You’re covered in mud.” It’s all over me, even in my hair. I couldn’t care less. It feels awesome. “I couldn't help myself.” I laugh. “Dolly wanted to run through the puddles.” “I’ll have to take you out on the four wheelers next.” “Really? Don’t tease me.” I grip his shirt, getting excited. I’m never going to want to leave this place. Each second I’m here, I find myself falling more and more in love with it. I get Cyrus’s need to rebuild this place.

He looks down at me, something like a smile tickling along his lips. “You’re something special. You know that?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I had you working the stalls this morning, and you hummed the whole time having the time of your life.” I snort a laugh. He hadn't made me do it. He started doing it, and I joined in willingly. I didn't know I’d enjoy it as much as I did. It was so di erent from what I do in my everyday life. “It wasn't my favorite part of the day, but I want to do my part around here. If Dolly is going to take me for a ride, I can surely feed her and clean up a little horse shit.” He leans down, dropping a kiss on my lips. I grip his shirt tighter when he deepens the kiss. This is by far my favorite part of the day. “Shit. Sorry.” We break away at the sound of Winston’s voice. My face heats. I mean we’ve been caught making out as if we’re teenagers who snuck o to the barn. That thought actually has me smiling, because I never got to do normal teenage things growing up. “You’re ﬁne,” I rush to say when he turns to leave. This is his place, after all. I don’t want to make anyone feel out of place in their own home. “I’ll put the horses up. Why don’t you go get cleaned up? Linden should have brought some clothes for you by now.” Cyrus gives my ass a squeeze before letting me go. “He did. I put them in your room,” Winston says. “I’ll make us something to eat after I shower,” Cyrus adds.

I nod and take o toward the house. The sun is already setting over the vineyard, giving a breathtaking view. It’s a perfect ending. I still can’t believe how fast the day passed before we even realized it. I have to admit that horseback riding wasn’t anywhere as easy as I thought it would be. But I got the hang of it pretty quickly. I make my way through the house, making sure to leave my muddy shoes out on the patio. I immediately head to Cyrus' bedroom. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Kittypu is curled up on top of the bed snoozing away. I give him a little pet on the head before I dig through the bag on the bed to ﬁnd some yoga pants and a soft pink top. I take them with me into the bathroom then turn on the hot water before I get into the shower. A small moan leaves me as the warm water runs down my body. I close my eyes, my mind playing the day back. I can’t remember the last time I smiled this much. Smiles that weren’t forced. Everything about this place is real and natural. It heals the soul. I think more people need to see this place, and it’s magic. It’s such a damn shame the vineyard isn’t growing any longer, the rows barren until Cyrus saves up enough to get new vines. He told me all about the ones he and his brother want, an heirloom variety—their talk went way over my head. But I got the gist the vines would be super expensive. An idea starts to form in my mind. I want a way to help Cyrus. The man saved my freaking life and is trying to keep me safe. It’s the least I can do, and I know he’s not going to just take a handout from my bank account. This might be di erent, though. It would not only raise money but get the word out about this place, too.

I grab the soap and start washing the mud from my body. My mind drifts with thoughts of this place being my home. What would it be like to wake up here every morning with Cyrus next to me in bed? He could kiss me good morning and good night every day. He could do other things too. My breath catches as I slide my hand between my thighs, leaning up against the shower wall. The thought of him showering with me has me so turned on. He would be the one to get me clean. His hands would travel all over my body. Aren’t those the small things that couples do together? I want to experience all of it. The simple things in life. I moan as I rub my clit harder, wishing it was Cyrus’s skilled hand and not my own. His touch is firm, his fingers callused, making it that much better. “Cyrus,” I moan his name. I’m close but not close enough. “Fuck.” My eyes fly open, and I find Cyrus standing outside the shower in only a pair of jeans, the top button undone. I stare at him in shock for a moment before I start to pull my hand from between my legs. “Don’t stop.” His voice is strangled. I lean back again, my fingers going to my clit. The knowledge that he’s watching turns me on more. Cyrus reaches into his jeans and pulls out his thick cock. I let out a small gasp as he wraps his hand around himself and starts to stroke. A bead of cum drips from the tip already. The head looks red and angry as he starts to pump himself faster. I lick my lips, suddenly having an overwhelming urge to drop to my knees and taste him. “Touch your tits,” he orders. A thrill runs through me at that, and I do as I’m told, needing to please him. When I cup

my breasts, the look of approval in his eyes spurs me on to pull at my nipple. Cyrus reaches out, bracing his other hand on the wall as he jacks himself o . His eyes are all over my body. I can feel them like a touch to my skin. “You going to come for me, baby? You like when I watch you?” “Yes.” I nod. “Please.” “Come,” he snaps. I scream his name as the orgasm hits me. My knees go weak, but I don’t fall. Cyrus is there before I can, wrapping his arm around my waist to support me as the orgasm rolls through my body. I can feel him jerking himself against me. He grunts as he comes all over my stomach. He lifts me o my feet, and I wrap myself around him as he presses me into the shower wall. He buries his face in my neck, holding me tight. I never want him to let me go.

13 CYRUS

he’s too much. Her slick breasts press against me, and my cock is already hardening again at the thought of plunging inside her. “I need to slow down.” I run my teeth along her neck, her breaths coming in a pant as I pin her to the shower wall. “Why?” She grips my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin. “Because you don’t know me.” If she did, there’s no way she’d want to be alone with me, much less naked in a shower. “You protect me.” She says it so patiently, like I’m a foolish schoolkid and she’s the kind teacher who took an interest. . . If the teacher had a body like a goddess and a mouth that gives me so many ﬁlthy ideas. “I do, and that’s where I need to focus.” I pull back and look into her sparkling eyes. “I need to keep you safe and ﬁnish the job.” “The job.” She pulls her hands away. I want them back, but she’s right to pull away.

“I’m a job.” She gives a hard nod and pushes against me. Reluctantly, I lower her to the ﬂoor and back away. My jeans are soaked, but I pull them up and turn around, giving her privacy. “There’s more, Fiona. You aren’t just a job.” “Then what am I to you?” A temptation. A wish that can never come true. A fucking fever dream of perfection that can never be mine. “You’ve been taken advantage of. You’ve been hurt.” I take a step away. “I don’t want to be the one who hurts you next.” “Oh.” The sadness in her voice almost makes me turn around. Almost. But if I do, I’ll only hurt her more when she ﬁnds out who I really am, all the horrible things I’ve done, and all the things I’m capable of doing if it means she’s safe. It takes every ounce of control I have, but I walk out of the bathroom and let her shower. I have to, because if I don’t, I’ll fuck up her life even more. I can’t do that to her. She’s been through enough. I close the bathroom door and change into some dry clothes while Kittypu eyes me suspiciously from the bed.

“What did you do?” Winston raises a brow at me as I walk into the living room. “What?” I sink onto the leather sofa and lean back. “You have that look on your face.” He points.

“What look?” “The one you have when you know you’ve fucked up.” “I don’t have that look.” He frowns. “Remember that time we found the little family of hedgehogs in that little patch of trees by the creek?” “No,” I lie. “I do. You were like ten, and you picked up one of the baby hedgehogs, and you were doing ﬁne until its mother came running at you. Right before you got spiked in the ankle, you had the same look on your face. You knew you were fucked right at that second. Same face now.” I remember. The baby hedgehog, the sting in my ankle, the way the cool creek water made it feel better. Right now, the only thing that can make me feel better is Fiona, having her in my arms, loving her, being honest with her. But she’s not for a man like me. I’m jaded at best, ruined at worst. And I still haven’t atoned for what happened to Winston or the vineyard. It won’t be done until the vineyard is fully functioning again, and that isn’t a possibility unless I ﬁnd Fiona’s stalker, take him out, then get her back to Vegas. I sigh low and long as all these thoughts and more form a roar between my ears. “That bad, huh?” He shakes his head and takes the seat across from me. “There’s just a lot.” “Tell me about it.” I shake my head.

He rubs his knee. “Rain’s coming soon.” “You can tell that now?” I gesture toward his leg. “No, I just heard it on the radio.” He shrugs and leans back. I still remember the way his body looked crumpled on that roadway. His eyes closed and his leg mangled. If only I’d reacted faster, he’d be whole. My father always said it was my job to protect my little brother—whether it be from school bullies or anything else. But I failed. “God, you’re so fucking gloomy.” He kicks his feet up on the co ee table between us. “I know you think you’re protecting me by not telling me the details of the shit you’re doing in Vegas to rebuild this place, but I’m not a fool, okay? I know you aren’t a showgirl or some card shark. You aren’t fooling me. And you aren’t fooling that girl, either.” He points at the ceiling toward my room where Fiona’s probably out of the shower now. Maybe she’s in my bed, snuggled up with her cat. “I’m not trying to fool her. I’m trying to protect her.” I rub the bridge of my nose. “The same way you’re trying to protect me? To make up for the wreck and the ﬁre—neither of which were your fault?” I shrug o his words. He may not blame me for his injuries, but he should. “Cy, I would’ve died if it weren’t for you.” Frustration seeps into his tone. “Why won’t you accept that you did all you could?” “Because I didn’t.”

“You did!” He slams his palm on the arm of his chair. “You saved my fucking life. But you keep acting like I’m useless, like I can’t possibly understand what you’re doing.” “I’m not trying to—” “I know you’re not trying to make me feel any type of way, but I do. I’m a grown man, Cy, and I don’t blame you. For any of it—the wreck, the ﬁre, the insurance.” He’s told me this so many times, but I just can’t accept it. I can’t let it go. I have to make it right. He scrubs a hand through his hair. “Dude, you’re making me crazy. Seriously, just stop. I’m working on some apps, the house is rebuilt, and once we can get those vines, things are going to be coming up rosés.” I snort a laugh at his pun but not much else. “I know you don’t blame me. But I blame me, and I can’t let it go. Not until I get the vineyard back to where it was.” “You got the house way better than it was before. Why can’t you just call it a day?” “Because that’s not me.” “I know.” He sighs. “I know you’re the most stubborn member of this family.” He stands. “But I’ll tell you something else: If you don’t stop this martyr bullshit, the best thing that’s ever happened to you is going to slip through your ﬁngers.” My gaze lifts. “Yes, her. The biggest pop star with the best dance moves and the cutest songs. She’s amazing. A fucking gem. And if you don’t get your self-loathing head out of your ass, she’s

going to get away. I know you want her. Don’t play.” He waggles his brows at me. He’s not wrong. I get a jolt of heat when I think of what Fiona was doing in the shower. Her small hand between her thighs, my name on her lips. “I like that expression much better.” He starts stacking kindling in the ﬁreplace for the cool night ahead. “Horny is always better than sad.” Maybe what he’s said has some truth to it. At least on one count. I have to apologize to Fiona. Fuck. I hate apologizing. I stand and stretch, then turn toward the stairs. “Grovel,” he says. “Make it good.” I wave him o . In this instance, I don’t need his advice. I know just how to apologize to Fiona, and I intend to do it with my tongue.

14 FIONA

stare in the mirror, feeling more than annoyed. On one hand, Cyrus is trying to be a good man, but on the other, he’s not even giving whatever there is between us a chance. He thinks he’s going to hurt me. Is that because this will only be a ﬂing for him, or is there something else that I don’t know? Cyrus carries so much responsibility on his shoulders. I wish he would let others share the burden with him. I have no doubt his brother would carry some for him. He is so driven to rebuild this place that in the process he’s pushing everyone away. I can see it so clearly, but I guess that’s because I’m on the outside looking in. When he talked about his parents today while we were horseback riding, I could tell they were all a close loving family. This place is all about that bond. I think the last thing his parents would want him to do is push his brother away. They should be leaning on each other to get through all this. Cyrus has no idea what he’s missing by taking everything on himself. For so long I’ve longed to have a relationship like he has with Winston. Someone I could trust with everything.

Someone who actually gave a crap about me because they loved me and not because of my money or connections. It makes me sad, but more than that, if I’m being honest, Cyrus not allowing himself to explore what we have pisses me o . Grrr. I mean, he is right in a sense. People have tried to use me in one way or another, and others still dictate my life. I’m always going and doing what I’m told. If it’s not Frankie, it’s some other manager or set runner. Cyrus may not realize it, but he is doing the exact same as everyone else. Thinking he knows what’s best for me. I’m sick of it. When do I get to start making decisions for myself? I tie the front of my robe before putting the brush I found back in the drawer. I’m not sure how I’m going to handle Cyrus. Did he forget we’re sharing a bed? I want to push, but when is someone going to fight for me? He fights for everything else. Why not me? Am I not worth it to him? I hu . I know I’m probably being dramatic. After all, he barely knows me. He already has so much going on in his life that he doesn’t need my added crap. It’s just … I thought I finally found someone that I could be myself around. Letting my guard down wasn’t an easy thing for me to do, but for him I was willing to take the chance. I take a deep breath and exit the bathroom in search of Kittypu . Cyrus comes rushing in the bedroom door looking out of breath. He pauses for a moment before he kicks the door closed behind him. He eats up the space between us in four long steps. “I’m stupid,” he says before he kisses me.

My heart races. “I’m sorry, baby.” I melt into him. “So fucking stupid.” I roll my eyes. “Now I can’t even be mad at you.” He kisses my jaw and then the shell of my ear. He pulls at the belt to my robe before pushing it o my shoulders, leaving me naked in front of him. “I’m going to make it up to you.” He grips my ass, picking me up and carrying me over to the bed. He lays me down in the center of it. “Going to worship your body as it should be.” My stomach flutters from the hungry look in his eyes. “Yes,” I agree as he trails kisses down my neck to my chest. “You should show me just how sorry you are for telling me what’s best for me, for not letting me make my own decisions, for trying to put distance betwe—Oh!” He sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. His fingers toy with the other, driving me wild. “Cyrus.” What was I saying? I dig my fingers into his shoulders, needing more from him. “Fuck, you taste sweet everywhere,” he answers, placing open-mouthed kisses down my stomach before placing a kiss on each of my hip bones. By the time he’s done, he’s going to have kissed every single inch of me. He glances up at me as he spreads my legs wider, making room for his broad shoulders and opening me all the way to him. I know I'm used to prancing around on stage in costumes that leave little to the imagination, but this is

di erent. I’m laid bare to him, not only physically but emotionally as well. I whimper when he kisses his way up the insides of my thighs. I lift my hips, needing him there. My nipples are painfully tight, and my whole body throbs with need. He inhales deep, breathing me in like he wants me inside of him. “Cyrus!” I snip his name. He lifts his head, a sexy smirk on his lips. “I’m savoring every inch of you.” He really is worshipping me. Not the pop star but me. His warm breath tingles against my sex, making me moan again. I’m so wet it’s almost embarrassing. “All this for me?” He takes one long lick up through the folds of my sex. My whole body jerks when his tongue reaches my clit before he’s dragging it back down and thrusting it inside of me. I gasp in surprise as he pushes his tongue in and out of me. My hips rock with him. He replaces his tongue with a finger. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he grits out before his mouth latches on to my clit. I grip the sheets as the orgasm hits me. It spreads throughout my body like a wildfire consuming me. My whole body heats from the pleasure. He doesn't stop. He pushes another finger inside of me as he laps up every drop of my orgasm and goes for another. “Cyrus!” I cry out his name as my thighs start to shake. I can feel another orgasm coming. His tongue flicks my clit back and forth.

I close my eyes when he hooks his fingers inside of me, hitting a spot I didn't know was there. My back comes o the bed, another orgasm consuming me, coming from someplace deeper. It’s more intense than the last one. He milks the orgasm from me until my whole body melts into the bed. He kisses his way back up my stomach and chest. I open my eyes to see the look of satisfaction on his face. “Will you make love to me, Cyrus?” He sucks in a deep breath. He’s still fully clothed. “Are you sure?” “I want this.” “I can’t tell you no.” He pulls his shirt o over his head before he ditches his pants. He kisses me. Tasting myself on his lips is erotic. It makes me feel sexy and wanton. I gasp when the head of his cock begins to press into me. I grip his shoulders. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, breaking our kiss. “No.” I dig my fingers into him more. “I want you. All of you.” He groans, pushing the rest of the way inside of me. I cry out at the sharp pain. “Fuck.” He growls placing kisses all over my face until I start to relax. I can tell he’s fighting himself. He wants to move. “Tell me you’re okay, sweetness.” I lick my lips. “I’m more than okay.” I wrap my legs around him. I’ve never in my whole life felt so connected to someone.

“You’re so damn breathtaking. I don’t deserve you, but there’s no going back now.” He kisses me before I can respond as he thrusts in and out of me. I moan at the feeling of being stretched full of him. The small burn of pain mixing with pleasure as he thrusts harder. “Not going to last. You’re so damn tight. Like a vise.” His grunts of pleasure have me clenching around him in no time. He slips his hand between us, his ﬁngers going to my clit as he shifts. I moan when he hits the spot deep inside of me. He feels like he’s everywhere. In this moment I’m not alone. We’re bonded together. The thought triggers another orgasm. My sex locks down around him, never wanting to let him go. “Fiona!” He shouts my name as he starts to come. I feel him spill deep inside of me. His body jerks over mine, and another groan leaves him as he buries his face in my neck and says my name like a prayer over and over. For the ﬁrst time in my life, I feel like I’m home. I pray that Cyrus wants to keep me forever. All to himself.

15 CYRUS

he sings as she awkwardly flips pancakes, and Winston moves his hips to her song while he loads up a pan with bacon. “Up early.” I stride in and kiss her neck. “I wanted to get Dolly and Elvis fed so we can go for a nice ride down to the far vineyard.” We’ve been here five blissful days, and every morning I wake up to Fiona. She’s like a dream, her song luring me closer and closer. I love it. And what’s more, I know I’ve fallen for her. It’s too much, too soon, too everything—but I can’t deny it. For the first time in a long, long time, I feel something other than remorse, than pain, than vengeance. I look at my life like something of value instead of just regret. Fiona’s done that for me. Pulled me from the depths of hell in Vegas and shown me that maybe I’m more than the sum of my mistakes. “This one looks kind of like a heart.” Fiona holds up her pan with a lopsided pancake inside.

“Looks good to me.” I slide into my seat at the bar. Linden looks up from his cell phone. “Are there blueberries in it?” “Sprinkles.” Fiona grins and plates the pancake before pouring another one. “You want this one?” she asks Linden. “I’m watching my figure.” He shakes his head and sips his co ee. “There’s a drag show in the village next month. I’m trying to win this time.” “You’ll get it.” Winston flips the bacon. “Your routine is flawless.” “It is,” Fiona agrees. “I love it all, and your outfits are fire. Right, Cy?” she asks me brightly. “Uh, yeah. Fire.” I nod, though I’m certain Linden doesn’t listen to my style advice. “This old queen is happy to have someone with a younger fashion sense in residence.” “I’m young,” Winston protests. “Yes, but I said someone with fashion sense.” Linden sips his co ee as Winston and Fiona giggle. I smile into my own co ee. When was the last time we were happy like this? It hasn’t been since before the fires. Maybe not since Mom and Dad were alive. But damn, it feels good to laugh again, and it feels even better to share those laughs with Fiona. “Okay, this one looks more like Texas.” She holds up the pan.

“I’ll have Texas, looks pretty good.” I lean over the counter and hand her my plate. Once everything is served up, we all breakfast together, talking about our plans for the day. My phone vibrates, and I already know it’s Frankie. “Excuse me for a minute.” I stand. “Frankie?” Fiona rolls her eyes. I lean down and kiss her. “I’ll be out to get your tack ready in a minute.” She kisses me back. “I’m going to eat your bacon while you’re gone.” “Vicious.” I kiss her again, then take the call and dart into the living room. “It’s been a week, Cyrus. Where the fuck is she?” he yells. “It’s been ﬁve days, Frankie, not a fucking week like we agreed, and I need more time.” “I don’t want to hear that shit, Cyrus. We had a deal. I need —” “I have a lead on the stalker.” I drop my voice so Fiona can’t hear me. “One that I think could pan out, but I need more time to lock it down.” “What’s the lead?” He’s calmer, but only a little. “A guy who tried to take over her fan club a couple years ago. I’ve done some digging, and this guy is obsessed with her.” I grip the phone tighter just thinking about it. “His name is Davis, but he goes by any number of false names. A real ‘Catch Me if You Can’ sort of asshole. He’s ﬁxated on her,

but I can’t pick up his trail. He pops up in places where she tours, but other than that, he doesn’t leave a trace. I’ve found tickets purchased under his alias for each of her shows. Every. Fucking. Show.” “Sounds like a fan.” He sni s. “Could be. Sure. But he seems to be intentionally covering his tracks. And more than that, he was in attendance at the show in Vegas, too, under another alias.” I drop my voice even lower. This isn’t something I want Fiona to worry about. “I’ve also found records of gun purchases under his social, several weapons over the past few years. All in di erent states. He’s amassed an arsenal.” “So you think it’s this Davis guy?” “I can’t say for certain, but I have a gut feeling this is our guy.” My gut isn’t leading me wrong, but ﬁnding this asshole is proving far more di cult than I expected. He’s slippery, like he knows I’m looking for him. “Okay then, take him out and bring Fiona back.” “Not so easy. Like I said, he goes to ground. I’ve got my contacts tracking him, but until I put him in the ground, it’s not safe for Fiona to perform in Vegas. Your security isn’t tight enough to keep this guy out.” “You don’t call the shots here, Cyrus. I do.” His tone darkens. “I’ll give you one more week. That’s it. One more week to smoke this guy out and deal with him. After that, I’m coming to claim my investment.” He pauses, then adds, “I’ve spent plenty of time in Napa. I even have a house there. So don’t think for one fucking second I don’t know right where you are. If you haven’t gotten it done in one week from today, I’m coming to get Fiona, and I won’t be alone.”

I bristle. He’s not laying a finger on Fiona, and she isn’t going back to perform in Vegas unless she wants to. But I need to pick my battles. Right now, my focus is on finding Davis Lockette and removing his head from his body. I’ll deal with Frankie afterwards. “Cyrus?” he asks. “Yeah?” “Oh, you went quiet so I thought maybe you’d hung u— whatever, you heard me. One week. That’s it.” He ends the call. Frankie can talk tough all he wants, but if he shows up here without an invitation and tries to take Fiona, I’ll bury him right along with Davis. Fiona pops her head in the door. “Hey, you ready?” “Yeah.” I pocket my phone and follow her to the back of the house. “I’ve been wanting to talk about something with you.” She pulls on her boots as I grab mine and do the same. “Like what?” I reach over and redo her laces. She never ties them tight enough for my liking. She arches a brow as I rework the laces. “What? You could get calluses or a blister.” I shake my head. Not on my fucking watch. “Anywaaaaay.” She tosses her hair in that sassy, cute way of hers. “I wanted to talk to you about me performing.” “You performed just fine this morning.” I finish her laces then kiss her. “Loud enough that Linden sent me a rude text

about it.” She smacks my chest. “No, not that. I mean, I want to do a performance here.” “Huh?” I open the door for her, and we walk toward the stables. “You and Winston do a song and dance every morning, sometimes at lunch, and then again at dinner.” She turns and grabs my arms, then feels my biceps. “It’s like you have a hard scoop of potatoes or something under here —wait, focus.” She shakes her head and drops her hands. “I mean I want to do a concert here at the vineyard. A benefit concert.” “Who are you benefiting?” Her cheeks start to turn pink and she looks down. “Well, I already discussed it with Linden and Winston, and they think it’s a great idea, so they’ve already started sending out press packets and—” “What?” I tilt her chin up so she meets my gaze. “A concert to raise money for the vines and to get more visibility for the Blake Winery!” She smiles big. “I wanted to bring it up, but I knew you’d say no, so I figured it’s better to ask for—” “Forgiveness than permission.” I finish for her. “I use that line on Winston all the time.” “And now I’ve used it on you.” She gives me a sly smile. “Benefit concert, this weekend, kind of small, but enough press to make it seem big. Okay, glad we got that sorted out. Now let’s go ride.” She tries to walk past me, and I grab her and haul her over my shoulder.

“Cy!” She cries as I reach up and smack her tight ass. “You’ve been bad, baby.” I smack it again as I carry her to the stables. “Cy!” She wriggles, and I smack her taut little ass again. “It’s a good idea!” “I don’t disagree.” I don’t particularly like her going onstage right now, but if she’s in my back yard, she’ll be safe. I smack her ass again, and she yowls. “But next time, you tell me ﬁrst.” I pull her o my shoulder and pin her to the side of the stables. “Got it?” She nods. “Yes.” “Good. Now let’s get the horses.” I kiss her hard. “And when we get to the far vineyard, I’m going to ride you so rough you’ll think twice before hiding anything from me ever again.” She bites her lip, a twinkle in her eyes. “Race you there.”

16 FIONA

worry my bottom lip between my teeth. It’s not often I get nervous before a show. I think the last time was when I performed at the Super Bowl. This isn't even a giant crowd. But this time I know that it really means something. That I’m not only going out there to prance around and sing but to help a cause. Plus, there’s the added fact that Cy will be watching me. “You okay, beautiful?” Cy asks, coming up behind me. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him. He drops kisses on my neck. It's something he always does, and each time, excitement bubbles up inside of me. “Yes,” I turn in his arms. “Want to help me pick out what I’m going to wear?” I should know better than to ask him that. If it were up to him, I’d be wearing a burlap sack that covered every single inch of me. “I’m not so sure you’d like what I’d pick. I’ll have every inch of you covered,” he says, echoing my thoughts and making me laugh. Tonight is more than a beneﬁt for the vineyard and spreading the word. I have a special surprise for Cy planned that I’ve been working on over the past ﬁve days.

Keep it under your hat, but I’ve secretly been writing a song for him. Some might say it’s too fast, but it’s how I’m going to tell him I love him. “I’ll see what I can do, but I’m thinking I’ll have an outﬁt for the party and one for performing.” I start to drop my hands from around his neck, but he doesn't let me go. “I don’t want you to think you have to perform. I—” I reach up, covering his mouth with my hand. I know where this is going. “This was my idea. I know you’re not using me, Cy. In fact. I’m using you.” I smirk. He licks the palm of my hand right before I lower it. “For sex, obviously.” “Then you should use me right now.” He grabs my ass and lifts me o my feet. I burst into laughter as he heads toward the bedroom. “Don’t even think about it!” Winston says as he walks in. “We have a million and one things to get done.” I wiggle in Cy’s hold. I can tell he doesn't want to let me down, but he does. “Rain check.” I drop a quick kiss on his mouth. A deep growl rumbles from within him. “I need a cold shower.” He acts like we didn’t have sex a couple hours ago. I jump and let out a small scream when he smacks my ass before heading into the bathroom. Winston is already going through the clothes hanging on the rack. “I like this one.” He holds up a pink dress. The top is covered in jewels while the bottom is a pu y tulle.

“All right.” I take it from him and lay it on the bed for later. Winston and I start going over everything. We have three hours before the guests will start to arrive. Everyone I’d sent out invites to is coming. I was a little shocked, especially with it being such a last-minute thing. Of course, I knew the press would come no matter what. “Did the step and repeat come?” I ask, continuing to go down my list of things that need to get done. “Yes. It’s a perfect backdrop for the event. Linden made me take a million pictures of him in front of it.” Winston rolls his eyes. I hold in a laugh. I notice I’ve been doing that so much lately. My smiles and laughter are never forced here. I know I’m supposed to be in hiding, but I’ve never felt so free in my life. Is it terrible that I hope we never ﬁnd my stalker? And that I’ll have to stay here forever? We spend the next hour making sure everything is being set up according to plan. I do a test on the small stage we had constructed to make sure all the mics and sound equipment work properly. Kenny, one of the lead stage hands from Vegas, is here and helping out with lighting. He tests everything as I do one complete run-through, getting a feel for the stage. “Looks okay?” I yell to Kenny in the booth. He gives me a thumbs-up. “Are we forgetting something?” I ask Winston as I jump o the stage. “Nah, I think we’re good. I should probably check on Cyrus. I think he’s scaring people with his security. He’s protective of you. He almost disemboweled poor Kenny when he showed up.”

My face ﬂushes. “It’s his job to protect me.” “Sure. That’s what it is. Just his job. That’s why he phoned Kenny’s last four employers and his parents to make sure he’s not your stalker.” He laughs. “He’s just thorough.” Poor Kenny. His phone goes o . “Oh, looks like your makeup girl is here.” “I guess it’s time to get this show rolling.” I head inside to look for Becca. I’m almost to the foyer when someone grabs me and drags me into the sitting room.

17 CYRUS

enny watches me with nothing short of trepidation as I stalk around his sound booth. When I step inside, he backs against the panel. “Don’t fucking move.” I search the area, looking for weapons. “I’m not, um, I’m not hiding anything.” His voice trembles. I glower down at him. “That’s exactly what someone who is hiding something would say.” He swallows hard as I search beneath the audio panel. I come up empty. I would pat him down, but there’s no fucking chance he’s stowed anything in his skinny jeans. “Dude, you questioned my mom. My mom.” He shakes his head. “I’m not a stalker. I was backstage when the person started shooting. It’s not me.” I grip his shirt in my ﬁst, and he makes a squeaking noise. “I want you to keep an eye out at all times, understand? If you see one fucking thing, you tell me. Got it?” He nods, his dirty blond hair falling in his eyes. “So we’re like partners? Detectives? I’m your Watson and you’re my

—” “Fuck o .” I step back. “Just be vigilant.” When I turn to leave, Winston is trying and failing to hide his laugh behind his hand. “Jesus, did he piss himself?” he snorts. I shrug. “Doesn’t matter.” I have this itchy feeling that something’s not right. I can’t explain it. I’ve checked and rechecked the guest list. Over and over, I’ve run the backgrounds and checked with my underworld contacts on all the men Fiona’s come in contact with since she ﬁrst started her career. Hell, I even went back further than that. Her high school admirers are clear. Everyone I’ve been able to research has come out clean as far as she’s concerned. It’s eating at me, because I know her stalker is close. I can feel it; I just can’t see him. “She’s safe. All right?” Winston punches me in the shoulder. “You’re here. Nothing to worry about.” “I guess.” I walk the stage one more time, checking all the spots where someone might try to hide or stow a weapon. Nothing. I have guys stationed all around the property, security everywhere. I want Fiona to feel safe while she works her magic. “Can’t you just enjoy tonight? She’s going to shine like a superstar. Watch her and have a good time. She’s doing this for you, after all.” Winston surveys the stage and the area on the back lawn for the small crowd. “She’s safe.” “I know.” I’ll protect her. No question. But I still haven’t nailed the creep who’s been after her. Winston sighs. “You’ll get him. It’s only a matter of time. And then we’ll keep our singing princess here at the vineyard

and make ﬁne wines and—Oh!” His eyebrows pop. “I could be an uncle! I’d be the absolute best uncle ever. Oh my gosh, just think of it.” “All right. Enough.” Honestly, the thought of Fiona carrying my child is fucking exciting, but I can’t dare to hope for that. Not when she’s a superstar and I’m just a vintner-turnedVegas-muscle. “Where is she?” I ask once I’m satisﬁed with the stage security. “Makeup,” Winston says. “Getting all prettied up with that Becca.” “Becca’s here?” Kenny strides up but stays well back from me. “I didn’t know she was coming. We could’ve traveled here together.” He frowns. “Maybe she’s just not that into you.” Winston shrugs. “Guess not.” Kenny takes his dejected ass back to the booth. I head inside to get one more taste of my songstress before she hits the stage, but I stop when I hear voices in the sitting room. “—back where you belong. I’ve arranged for you to leave after this silly little show.” It’s Frankie. “It’s not silly, and I’m staying here. I belong here!” Fiona’s voice is strong. I bristle as I burst into the sitting room. “The fuck is going on?” “I’m here for my investment. It doesn’t concern you, Cyrus. Your employment is terminated, and you can say goodbye to your payment,” he snaps. “You’ll be doing shit work for the

rest of your life to try and make up for the money you lost on this deal.” Fiona hurries to me, and I take her under my arm. “Did he hurt you?” I ask. “No.” She shakes her head. “Did he touch you?” She doesn’t answer, and Frankie’s pissed-o starts to fade as I glare at him.

expression

“You touched my girl?” I step toward him. “I didn’t hurt her.” He backs away. “You never put your hands on her. Never.” I stride to him and grab him as he tries to cower against the wall. “She’s done with you. If she wants to come back to Vegas, it’ll be on her own terms.” “We have a contract that she can’t get—” “I’ll ram that contract so far up your ass you’ll be tasting clauses and wherefores for the rest of your fucking life. Understand?” I shake him like a ragdoll. He lets out a little scream. “I understand!” “Now get the fuck out of here. You’re trespassing.” I shove him back, and he almost tumbles to the floor. He stops. “You’re done in Vegas, Cyrus. Fucking done! And if you think I’m just going to walk away from . . .” His voice fades as I reach into my pocket and pull out my black gloves. I slip the first one on, never breaking eye contact as I do it. “I warned you, Frankie.” I slide on the second one, then crack my knuckles, the leather flexing like a second skin.

Frankie pales, then turns toward the door and runs into the hall and out through the front door. “Come here.” I open my arms for Fiona, and she runs into them. “Thank you.” She wraps her arms around me as I hold her. “I mean, I was going to cancel the contract anyway, but I like the way you did it better.” I smirk. “My way is a little more permanent, I think.” She nods against me. “Frankie won’t be back.” “Nope.” I kiss her crown. “Are you upset about the money?” “Money?” I ask. “That you lost. You know, for protecting me.” She looks up, her eyes so beautiful just like her soul. “Not even a little bit.” I kiss her mouth, tasting her and promising her that she’s far more valuable than any amount of money. She’s it for me. When I break the kiss, she smiles up at me with heavylidded eyes. “I should go. Makeup.” “Fine.” I kiss her once more. “Get dolled up. I’ll be around. You’re safe.” “I know. I’m always safe when you’re here.” “Count on it.” I kiss her forehead, then lead her into the foyer. Becca is at the door waiting, a smile on her face as she sees Fiona.

“I’ll leave her in your capable hands.” I pat Fiona on the butt and send her to Becca. “Girl, you’re glowing!” Becca exclaims as Fiona leads her up the stairs to our room. “I’m so excited to work with you on this beneﬁt concert. Kenny and I have been talking about it all week!” “All week?” I ask. Becca nods and hugs Fiona. I turn, my gloved hands ready to go to work. Kenny lied to me. He said he hadn’t spoken to Fiona. It was Kenny all along.

18 FIONA

ecca’s all dolled up like normal. She eyes one of the security team as he passes us on the stairs.

“You’ve been MIA,” Becca says as she follows me. “Thank you for coming out.” “Who would miss a party like this? Not me. That’s never happening.” She laughs, always ready for a good time. “Kenny and I have been dishing about this for days. Where are we headed?” She eyes the massive chandelier. “My room,” I say over my shoulder. “Your room?” She arches a perfectly drawn brow. “Are you living here now?” “No, I just mean where I’ve been staying.” I stumble over my words. Saying I live in Vegas now sounds so wrong. I should call my agent and see about cancelling my contract with Frankie for good. Just in case he tries to pull something else. Stop, I’m getting ahead of myself. Cy hasn't asked me to stay or move in. After this beneﬁt concert, I don’t think Cy is

going to need Vegas anymore. Our guest list is full of people willing to pay for my entertainment, and the press is happy to schmooze at the vineyard and write pu pieces about what a beautiful place this is. The vines Cy needs are within his reach. “This place is hella nice.” Becca eyes everything as we make our way to my room. “Yeah, it’s a dream here.” I take a seat at the vanity chair in the bathroom. Becca starts unpacking some of her stu and setting it on the counter. “So when are you going to be coming back?” She pulls my hair down from the ponytail. I shrug. “We miss you out in Vegas.” She smiles at me in the mirror. “I’m not sure.” “Not sure?” She tsks. “Your fans are missing out.” “They’ll be ﬁne without me for a while.” Or maybe forever. That’s what this place is starting to feel like for me. Forever. “You seem like you’ve changed.” She twists my hair around her hand. “Ow.” I wince. She smiles tightly. “Too rough?” “A little.” “Is he rough with you?” Her eyes narrow. “What?” I must be mis-hearing her.

“Did you sleep with him, Fiona? Did you let him touch you with his dirty hands?” Her grip on my hair tightens even more. “Becca.” I pull forward, but she doesn't release the hold she has on my hair. “What—” “You know who that man is, Fiona? The things he’s done? Then you let him go and touch you?” She growls the last part, her voice changing, dropping lower. “We’re going to have to get you clean now.” I scream when she yanks me by my hair and pulls me to my feet. Her hand comes down over my mouth. “If I were you, I’d be quiet. I’d hate to have to kill your lover boy,” she hisses next to my ear as she starts to drag me to the shower. I start to ﬁght her anyway, but she’s freakishly strong. “I didn't want to have to do this,” I hear her say before I feel a needle press into my neck. Black spots begin dancing in my eyes. “Cyrus.” I call his name before darkness takes me.

19 CYRUS

“W

early guests.

hoa, where’s the ﬁre?” Linden jumps out of the way as I barrel past him and a few of his

I don’t answer, just hurry down the back steps into the yard. Kenny looks up from his place at the sound booth. “Hey, Sherlock. Watson here at the ready to …” His words die in his throat as I reach over the sound equipment, grab him, and yank him out of the booth and to the ground. He screams as I pin him and rear back. “Cy!” Winston hurries over. “The fuck you doing?” “I thought we were a team!” Kenny screams at an earsplitting pitch. “You lied to me.” I put one hand at his throat as he claws at my wrist ine ectually. “What?” I squeeze. “It was you all along.” “Cy, he can’t breathe.” Winston taps my shoulder.

“That’s the idea,” I bark. Kenny smacks my arm. “Cy, come on. You checked him out. He’s clean, and his mom even sent cookies.” “They had raisins in them,” I growl. “I mean, yeah, that’s a bad sign, but she made the e ort.” Winston shakes my shoulder. “Come on, let him breathe at least. We can’t have a murder when the press is here.” I don’t want to, but I loosen my hold just a hair. Kenny gulps in air. “I trusted you. I believed you. And all this time you’ve been terrorizing her. You sick fuck.” I see red and want to pummel his head to a pulp. Kenny shakes his head. “Not me. No.” “Yes, fucking you. You lied. I caught you.” “What lie?” he screeches. Winston looks up as Linden starts to lead a few early VIP guests out the back door of the house. “Oh, hang on!” he calls and rushes over. “Not quite ready yet. Come on, let’s get some snacks, everyone.” He corrals Linden and the others back inside. “I didn’t lie to you.” Kenny’s eyes water. “You said you hadn’t talked to Becca about this event. That’s what you fucking told me.” I don’t know why I’m exercising restraint, but I am. “I should snap your fucking neck.”

He blinks, confusion all over his face. “But I … I didn’t. We haven’t. I haven’t even seen Becca since the last day of the show.” I want to kill him, but I don’t. Because for some fucking reason, I want to believe him. “Why would you lie about that, Kenny? What a stupid lie.” “It’s not a lie. I swear. I never talked to her. I don’t know what’s going on. Just please, don’t kill me. I’ll tell Mom no more raisins, I swear. I swear.” He’s gasping now, even though I’m not squeezing his airway. “I’ll tell her only chocolate chips from now on. Okay? Okay?” he cries. Decision time. Snap his neck or believe him. I stare down at him, my hands itching to do violence. But they don’t. I don’t. “Fuck.” I sit back then stand. He scoots away until he bumps into the sound booth. “Don’t kill me.” “You’re safe.” I narrow my eyes on him. “For now.” The problem is, if I believe him, then Becca is the liar. And why would she lie? I turn and walk to the house, then glance up to our bedroom window. The light is on, and Becca is up there right now doing Fiona’s makeup. My hackles rise, and my gut instinct kicks in. Becca lied. Becca had access to Fiona’s dressing room, her whereabouts, her everything at all fucking times. Becca. My stride turns into a jog as I run down the hall and take the stairs two at a time.

Becca. It’s her. I didn’t check her background deeply enough, because I thought she was a woman. Her makeup skills— fucking excellent. But she’s not Becca. Not at all. I burst into our bedroom and yell, “Davis!” But the room is empty, the ﬂoor wet, and Fiona gone. “No!” I rush back down the stairs. “Where the fuck is the makeup artist?” I bark at the guards in the foyer. One points out the front door. “She just left with a bag full of dresses.” “A bag full of dresses? You let her go?” I yell. “If you’re here when I get back, you’re dead.” I mean every word as I sprint out the front door. I see Becca up ahead. She’s closing the trunk on her rental car. Before I can even think about what I’m doing, I run full speed at her. She pulls a gun and ﬁres a shot. I barely feel a sting in my arm as I tackle her, taking her to the gravel driveway and pinning her with my forearm against her windpipe. She yells—a low, masculine sound—and her wig comes o with the impact. “Davis.” I press harder on his windpipe. “She’s mine. Mine!” He brings the pistol up, and I wrestle it from his grip, then turn the barrel on him. “I’ll fucking kill her before I’ll let you have her!” “She was never yours,” I say and pull the trigger.

20 FIONA

“B

aby. Open those beautiful eyes for me.”

I let out a sigh, trying to roll over to wrap myself around Cyrus, but he stops me from moving. “She’s awake?” I hear Winston say. I try to open my eyes, but they feel so heavy. “Fiona. Please.” His ﬁngers run up and down my jaw. “I like when you call me baby,” I try to say, but it comes out mumbled. “Baby,” he says again, making me smile. “Open for me.” “Usually you mean my thighs when you say that.” I open my eyes ﬁnally. Cyrus is leaning over me, and he’s all I can see. “Should I leave?” Winston chuckles. My face heats when I realize what I’d just said. Out loud. “Why is everyone in our room?” I whisper. I try to look down to make sure I’m dressed. I normally sleep naked. Then again, I’m not sure why I’m checking. It’s not as if Cyrus would allow anyone in the room if I were naked.

“What do you remember?” Cyrus asks, not answering my question. “Why am I wet?” I try to sit up, but a dizzy spell hits me, causing me to lie back down. “Take it easy. You need to rest.” Cyrus helps me slowly sit up. It’s then I realize I’m in the o ce, and that it’s not only Winston who’s in the room with us. There are a handful of people with worried expressions on their faces. It’s then that the memories of what happened hit me. “Becca. She’s a man!” I gasp and grab the front of Cyrus’s shirt. He ﬂinches at my sudden hold on him. “It’s been handled. You don’t have to worry about Davis anymore.” Davis? The name doesn't sound familiar. “What is this?” I ask, reaching my ﬁngers out to touch his shoulder where I see blood. “Nothing.” He dismisses my question. “How are you feeling?” He tries to distract me by asking his own. But I’m not going to let him continue to sidestep my questions. I want answers. “Cyrus! Why are you bleeding?” “He was shot.” Winston answers for him. My mouth falls open. Cyrus sends his brother a death glare. “It’s only a graze. I have a doctor on the way to look you over.”

“Me?” Panic sends my voice up to Mariah Carey levels. “You’re the one that’s been shot!” “Can you give us the room?” Cyrus says, not taking his eyes o of me. Everyone shu es out of the o ce, leaving us alone. Cyrus grabs my face with both hands and kisses me hard. I part my lips for him as he deepens the kiss. “I’m okay,” I try to reassure him when we break away from the kiss. “I knew you’d save me.” “I almost lost you.” His eyes glisten just the faintest bit. My heart thaws into a pile of mush. I mean, let’s be honest, I was already soft for this big, tough man of mine. “I’m not going anywhere, Cyrus.” “What about Vegas? Touring?” His eyes search my face. “I’d come with you.” My own eyes ﬁll with tears that he would be willing to do that for me. That he just wants to be with me and nothing more. “Well, I could be convinced to never go back to Vegas. You know if someone were to make me a better o er. One I can’t refuse.” I lick my lips, still tasting him there. “You’ll stay.” It doesn't sound as if he’s asking at all, which makes me laugh. “I love that idea.” I lean into him. “And I love you too, Cyrus.” He closes his eyes and drops his forehead to mine. Being here with him feels right. As if it is where I was always meant to be.

“Say it again.” His words come out thick with emotion. “I love you.” “I love you too. So much it scares the hell out of me.” My insides warm. “You’re the ﬁrst person to ever say that to me without wanting something.” He grabs me, pulling me into his lap. “Hey!” I yelp. “Your shoulder!” He ignores my protest. “I do want something. You.” “Just me.” I lean down to kiss him, but Winston comes bursting back into the room. “The show must go on,” he announces. Cyrus lets out a growl. “She’s not performing tonight.” “I most certainly am.” I raise my chin, putting my hands on my hips. “Everyone will be here in what, an hour? Plenty of time. I feel ﬁne. Seriously, Cyrus,” I plead with him. “I want to do this. Isn't this my home now too?” “And there it is. She got him,” Winston says from behind me. I shoot him a glare. He’s going to mess this up for us. He raises his hands and steps back. “We’ll see what the doctor says,” Cyrus hedges. “Fine,” I agree. “But you’re getting looked at too.” “Deal.” He stands with me in his arms. “Cyrus.” I try to wiggle free but get nowhere.

“Send the doctor up when she gets here.” He carries me up the stairs. “And why are you wet? What part of Davis’s plan was that?” I’m not sure he wants the answer to that question. “Fiona.” “She said she had to get me clean. Or he. I don’t know what that was about. I mean, I don’t think he was trans or anything. I think he was just—” “Dressing up like a woman to get close to you,” he ﬁnishes for me. “Yeah, I already had a lead on him, but I didn’t realize how far he’d go to get into your inner circle. YouTube makeup tutorials are a hell of a drug.” “Try Tik-Tok ones. There are some amazing products.” I smile. “Stop trying to distract me, baby. I want to know exactly what happened. He wanted you clean?” “He said that letting you touch me had dirtied me up.” Cyrus’s body goes sti . “I’m ﬁne. He just shoved me in the shower like a psycho. Davis. Not Becca.” This whole thing is so confusing. “This whole time I really thought … I mean, it was convincing!” I do have to admit one thing: for as crazy as this Davis person is, he has crazy skills when it comes to makeup. “Yeah, it was.” He sits me down on the bed then helps me get out of my wet clothes before bringing me a robe to put on. A knock sounds at the door. “Doc?” Cyrus calls.

“Guilty as charged,” a woman calls through the door. “Come in,” Cyrus says. The door opens, and a woman wearing scrubs who I’m assuming is the doctor walks in. “Fiona. It’s nice to meet you.” The doctor holds her hand out. “I’m Dr. Spears.” “Thank you for coming so quickly,” I say before she starts to check me over as I tell her what happened. My main worry being about whatever it was I got injected with. “We can run your blood to see what he gave you.” “Please.” I bite my lip for a moment then try to casually gesture toward Cyrus. “Is there something else you wanted to ask me?” Dr. Spears puts her stethoscope back around her neck. “I could be pregnant,” I blurt. “I worry that whatever it is could hurt the baby if I am.” Cyrus sucks in a breath. I see him pull out his phone. “You are rather early, are you not?” Dr. Spears peers at my ﬂat stomach. “Yes. I’d be very early.” “It was Propofol,” Cyrus says and pockets his phone. “He had it on him.” “That should be more than okay then.” She looks over to Cyrus. “Can I see your shoulder?” “Yeah.” He pulls o his shirt, and I remind myself she’s a doctor. She pulls some things from her bag to clean up the

wound before putting some bandages on it. “I’m okay to perform tonight, aren't I? I’m only doing a few songs.” The doctor looks over at Cyrus. “Don’t look at him; he’ll get you to say that I’m not.” I step in front of him, making her laugh. Cyrus wraps his arm around me from behind, pulling me against him until my back hits his chest. “I think it should be ﬁne.” “Why don’t you stay? I think you being here might help Cyrus relax some.” A smile lights up her face. “I’d love that. I’m a huge fan. Luckily, I have a change of clothes in the car.” “Perfect.” Cyrus sees her out of our bedroom then returns to me. “Pregnant?” His hand comes to my neck, resting there. “Maybe. We haven't been the safest.” He nods. “To be honest, I think subconsciously we did it on purpose.” He gives me a sheepish look. “We both knew that me getting pregnant was a sure way for me to stay here.” “Baby.” I put my hand over his mouth. “I did it too.” He kisses my palm before I drop my hand. I run my ﬁngers down his chest. “Do we have a little time?” I go for the button on his jeans. I can see the battle inside of

him. “Make love to me, Cyrus.” I say, knowing that will get him. “I love you.” He pulls on the belt of my robe, making it fall open. “And I love you.” He kisses me, taking me down to the bed to make love to me. Some girls dream of being a pop star. Others dream of having a family of their own. I was somehow lucky enough to have both. My career led me to Cyrus, and for that I will always be grateful.

EPILOGUE CYRUS

toss a couple of water bottles into the basket as I stare into the refrigerator. Then I grab the container of grapes and a mix of cheeses before I throw some crackers in as well. I close the door and look around the kitchen, trying to decide if there is anything else she might need. I open the drawer where she keeps her secret stash of candy bars and toss a few of those in too. “You trying to get into the doghouse? She may love you, but that won’t matter when it comes to the hidden stash,” Winston says as he walks into the kitchen. He doesn't limp at all anymore. Time really has healed all of us in one way or another. Fiona was like a balm to this place, one I didn't know we needed until she was here. “It’s for her.” There is no fucking way I’d steal her candy. I think stealing food from a pregnant woman might be grounds for divorce. Not that I’d let her ever divorce me. I’d tie her to the bed and exhaust her with orgasms until she changed her mind. “Going on a picnic?” He smirks. “When did you turn into a romantic?”

The day I met Fiona. No one has ever knocked me on my ass before. Until her. When those elevator doors slid open, I knew my life was about to change. I tried to fight it at first, but there was no denying the pull to her. “Don’t be jealous that I know how to take care of my woman.” I close the picnic basket. “You should find someone.” He shrugs, picking up an apple and taking a bite. “That’s interesting.” He takes another bite of his apple, and I know he’s baiting me. “What’s interesting? I have to get to Fiona. She’s waiting for me outside.” I wonder if the sun is too hot for her to be out there. She’s only a few months pregnant. I don’t remember reading about getting too hot in any of the books. “It looked to me like Jesse was out there helping your woman.” He shrugs innocently. “That’s all.” I grab the basket and take o out the back door. That little shit is going to get it. He’s new and too fucking wet behind the ears. How can he not see the ring on her finger? I’d gotten the biggest one I could without it looking ridiculous, all so it would be obvious she belonged to me. That little asshole knows she’s mine. Everyone around here knows that. Yet he’s always trying to sneak a peek. Fiona says I’m being ridiculous, but I’m on to that little punk. I round the corner of one of the barns, and I hear Fiona's sweet laugh, which only fuels my jealousy more. Those laughs are mine. I know I sound like a child throwing a tantrum, but I don't care.

Jesse lifts his eyes that were on my wife’s ass when he spots me. He jumps back a few feet from Fiona, trying to act as if he wasn’t doing anything wrong. She’s bent over as she looks inside a short barrel. My cock instantly gets hard looking at the ripe peach that’s on full display. I place the basket on the ground before I head toward them. I don’t say a word, instead I grab Jesse around the collar of his shirt and pull him out of the barn. He doesn't ﬁght me as I hold him up as if he were a ragdoll. “Cyrus! Put him down. He was only helping me.” “I don’t think you need help checking out your ass. I’ve got that covered.” “I wasn't, I swear! I was trying to see how full the barrel was.” I give him a push, letting him go. He stumbles back, falling on his ass. “Don’t.” Fiona wraps her hand around my arm, knowing I won’t try and shake her o . “Jesse!” She snips at him. “Run.” “Right.” He scrambles to his feet and takes o . Fiona's body shakes, and I know she’s trying to hold in a laugh. Thank fuck she thinks my jealousy is funny, or we might have problems. I silence her laughter by claiming her mouth in a possessive kiss, making sure she remembers who she belongs to. When I break away, her lips are pu y as she tries to catch her breath. “You’re a caveman.” She shakes her head, but she’s smiling. I get it. Men are drawn to Fiona. It’s not only her beauty, it’s

also that sweet innocence that surrounds her. It's all mine. It washes away all of my sins from Vegas, only leaving her. It took some time, but I’ve come to the realization that the vineyard going up in ﬂames is the reason I have Fiona. I’d burn this place to the ground myself to keep her. But I don’t have to. She loves it here. She’s always trying to work the vines and be a part of the team. I don’t know how I got so lucky with her. “This for me?” She points to the basket. “Yeah.” I grab it from o

the ground.

“You remember the movie Pretty Woman?” She asks me as she strolls back into the barn. My eyes go to the sway of her ass. I can’t blame Jesse, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kill him. This vineyard has a lot of land, and people go missing all the time. “Yes.” I think we watched that one a few weeks ago. “Well, it gave me an idea.” She points down at the large barrel that I see is ﬁlled with grapes. “I mean, I don’t think anyone will want to drink it, but it might be fun.” I drop the basket and grab her, lifting her o her feet. She kicks her shoes o before I set her inside the barrel. “I’ll drink it.” She lets out a giggle. “It feels weird. Squishy.” She starts to wiggle around more, making her tits bounce. “Aren't you going to join me?” “I’d join you anywhere.” I pull o jump in the barrel with her. “Isn't it weird?”

my shoes and socks, then

I nod. “Feels like slime.” “This is the way they used to make wine. Can you believe it?” She slips, and I grab her, catching her before she can fall. She smiles up at me, brightening my world the same way she has every day since I’ve met her. “Always saving me.” She saved me, too. Me, the vineyard, everything. “Till I take my last breath,” I say before I claim her mouth again, sealing that promise with a kiss.

EPILOGUE II FIONA

“B

ritney Mariah Blake!” I yell from my spot beneath an apple tree at the edge of the back yard.

She comes riding up the vineyard, her hair glowing blond in the sun as she pats Dolly on the neck. “Good girl.” “Don’t run her too hard,” I scold. “She’s not as young as she used to be.” “She’s ﬁne.” Britney dismounts and strides over to me. “Where’s Carey?” I resume, humming one of my favorite songs from my new album. It’s an indie release, a more instrumental mix of music where my voice is front and center instead of mixed with pop synth sounds. I kind of love it. “He’s catching up.” She sits next to me and lets Dolly graze a little. “I love that one. Is it the one about Dad?” “Dad saving my life, yep.” “From the crazy makeup guy?” she asks. “Who told you about that?”

She shrugs. “Uncle Winston tells the best stories.” “Well, the song is sort of about that, but more about how he saved me with his love. How he wanted me for me, not because I had money or fame.” “Can we skip the mushy stu ?” She arches a brow. “The mushy stu

is the only reason you’re here, you know?”

“Ugh, Mom.” She groans. “Anyway, maybe you should go find Carey. He’s too young for you to leave him behind.” “He should’ve thought of that before throwing creek mud at me.” She points to a splatter on her shirt. I try not to laugh when I notice she has another smudge of mud under her jaw. “You two have to stop fighting long enough to take care of your little sister.” I rub my swollen belly. “I’ll teach her how to fight. Don’t worry.” She lies back, her twelve-year-old body oddly lanky and long. Soon enough, she’ll get boobs and an even bigger attitude. A little me and a lot Cyrus, she’s going to give the world one hell of a run for its money. “Hey, not so close to the—Ow!” Carey appears and slaps away an apple tree branch as his mare brings him just under it. “You did that on purpose!” Britney and I both laugh as he jumps down and gives the horse a wounded glare. He’s nine, and more or less is just dirt and danger wrapped in more dirt.

“Got any juice boxes?” he asks as he throws himself to the ground at my feet. “There.” I point to the little red cooler Cyrus brought out here for me. “Cool.” He grabs two from the cooler. Britney holds out her hand for one. I watch as he pulls the straws from both and puts them in, then starts to hand one to her before putting both straws in his mouth and drinking them down. “Carey!” She punches him in the thigh. He spews juice everywhere. I roll my eyes. “But why?” “Guys, give Mom a break.” Cyrus’s deep voice cuts through everything, and I feel his hands on me, helping me to my feet. “Let them ﬁght.” I shrug. “Maybe only one will survive and we’ll have one less mouth to feed.” Cyrus smirks. “That bad, huh?” I rub my lower back. “They’re ﬁne. I’m just sore.” “Sorry, Mom,” they both call as Britney grabs a fresh juice box. Cyrus leads me into the house, the cool interior so nice on my skin. “Better?” he asks. “Much better.” I yawn. “Come on.” He scoops me into his arms.

I’m too tired to protest as he carries me up to our room and lays me on our bed. “She’ll be here soon.” I peer at the baby bump. “I can’t wait to meet her.” He pulls o my feet as my eyes ﬂutter closed.

my shoes and rubs

“I hope she’s tough like you,” I say drowsily. “And sassy like Britney. Loyal like Carey.” “Maybe we’ll ﬁnally get one who can sing like you,” he says wryly. I snort just thinking about how music lessons with Britney and Carey went. In a word—disaster. “Maybe so.” I yawn again. “If we get another one who sings like you, I’m going to have to demand a refund from the stork.” “Harsh.” He laughs and crawls into bed beside me, snuggling me against him as I drift o to sleep. “I love you so much, baby.” He kisses my forehead. “You love me for me,” I say. “The sex isn’t bad either.” I giggle and then drift o to sleep, dreaming of our family, our future, and the love that built it all. More MINK is on the way! Next up: A case of amnesia, a ﬂu y cat, and a handsome man who claims he’s yours, all yours. Join MINK’s newsletter and never miss a new release

ALSO BY MINK

His Clever Kitten She intrigues me, this walking conundrum of a woman. A kitten sweatshirt, big glasses, and a trusting nature—she’s practically catnip for a man like me. So much so that I let her kidnap me at gunpoint. Instead of demanding money, she tells me of her troubles with a local mafia family. The Lucenzios want protection money from her, and if she refuses to pay, they’ll wreck her brand new kitty store, Pawsitively Perfect. Lucky for Maddy, I happen to be at war with the Lucenzios, and I’ll happily destroy anyone who dares tread on Maddy’s business or her heart. She needs protection. So much so that I find it best to keep her close. Very close. In my bed and in my heart, my clever kitten has dug in her claws. And maybe I like it that way. Besides, I have no choice but to love her. After all, she took me hostage from the moment I saw her. His to Keep A bodyguard’s work is never done, especially when you’re protecting a girl like Cara. For months she’s teased me, showing me glimpses of skin and flaunting her innocence. I’m a hard man, one who has a job to do. Bringing down Cara’s father and his crime syndicate is why I’m here. It should be the only reason I’m here. It’s not. I’m here for Cara, and I’ve wanted her since the day I was first assigned to her protection detail. Claiming her was never an option, not when my plans always ended with her father’s death. But the more I see of the sheltered girl with the innocent eyes, the more I think she belongs by my side. Even if it goes against my family’s plans, I intend to make Cara my bride and my queen. And if anyone gets in the way of my love for Cara? Well, like I said, I’m a hard man, one who doesn’t mind getting blood on his hands for the woman he loves. 119 Kitty Lane

MINK takes a trip to Cherry Falls in this sweet romance. Starting my new life in Rosewood Ranch is easily the best decision I’ve ever made. New friends, new job, new everything. But by far the very best part of it all is meeting Amethsyt. She puts the Cherry in Cherry Falls, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get her out of my mind … or heart. She’s too young for me. Too pure. She doesn’t know about my past. But even though I can throw reason after reason out there for why we can’t be together, I can’t stop myself from claiming her as mine. She’s not meant for a rough man like me, but that won’t stop me. I’ll protect her from this world, allow her to grow and flourish the way she deserves. That’s my plan. Until she’s taken from me. Until I find out her father’s plans for her. . . But I’ll always find my sweet Amethyst, always keep her safe. And heaven help anyone, including her own father, who tries to steal her from me. Santa Material Am I obsessed with my neighbor? Yes. Mac is a huge bear of a man, one with bright eyes and big hands--a man that you can't help but drool over. He's so kind, always asking me if I want help with my projects around the house. Maybe I'll spend this Christmas in his arms, cuddled by a fire. At least, that would've happened if I didn't ... accidentally ... kill Santa Claus. Look, I know how it sounds. But it was an accident! Now, it's up to me to save Christmas, and I have to find the right person to take the Big Guy's place. A man with a kind heart, a giving soul, and a laugh that can warm even the chilliest of grinches. A man like ... Mac. But can I give up the only man I've ever loved to save Christmas, or will I keep him to myself no matter the cost? Taming His Bride I’ve been chasing stories from the first moment I could ask questions. When I started my own investigative blog, I pulled stories straight from the headlines and dove deeper to discover the truth behind the circumstances. None more so than in the case of the missing mafia prince, the very first investigation I undertook from the warmth and safety of my teenage bedroom. Then I grew up and got mixed up in a whole lot more than musings on missing kingpins. I followed the story of a maligned pop princess and wound up at the lodge—a hidden safe house for bad men with dark pasts. When I met the growly Tiernan, I knew I’d be in for the story of my life. The more I get to know him, the

more I realize how much I’ve been missing one aspect of my own story— romance. He brings it and so much more, his gru ways and soft touches melting me until I’m hopeless for him. But when some of the people I’ve exposed on my blog come calling, I’ll have to rely on more than his soft side if I want to survive. Stealing His Bride I can take care of myself. I always have. For that matter, I’ve also taken care of my best friends Aurora and Clover. Keeping them safe has landed me with a concussion after our car accident thanks to a wayward lynx. On top of that, I seem to have landed in a handsome man’s bed. Not just any man, Barrow attends to all my needs and never wants to leave my side. He’s big, brawny, and possessive, and I ﬁnd myself falling for him more by the minute. The lodge is a safe haven that I’m quickly wanting to call home. But my self doubt creeps in ,and I start to think maybe I’m imagining Barrow’s attraction to me. After all, Aurora’s the star of our group, not me. But the more he dotes on me, compliments me, and gives me those heated looks I feel down to my toes, the more I realize he’s genuine and that we could have a real future together. When I get a job o er that’s hard to turn down, will I choose love or life outside the lodge? Claiming His Bride Performing onstage in front of tens of thousands of fans is a rush, without a doubt. But one look from Diego sends an even hotter thrill of excitement through my veins. He’s huge, a man of few words and hungry eyes. No matter how much I try to get him to open up to me, he won’t. So, I have to change my tactics. This mountain lodge is full of mysterious men, and Diego is the one I’m desperate to solve. He’s madly protective, but he won’t get close. Pushing him over the edge has become my main goal. I tempt him with skimpy outﬁts and my signature chocolate cake. My plan is going perfectly until my biggest fear comes true. I thought I would be safe out here in the snowy wilderness with Diego. Was I wrong? Knocking Up His Bride

It came out of nowhere. A huge cat in the middle of the road. We swerved to avoid it and crashed into a snowy tree, ending our road trip early and stranding us far from the local town, in the middle of a snowstorm with another on the way. How can a pop star, her assistant, and her best friend survive in a snowy wilderness? Short answer is: they can’t. But then *he* came out of nowhere. The big guy with the gru voice and the sharp eyes. The eyes that are always on me. I have to trust him, to accept his rescue of my friends and me, but the more I get to know Charles, the more I realize I need him. Maybe we landed at the lodge with these mysterious mountain men by accident, but Charles makes me believe it was good luck that brought us here. Even though he’s vague about his past, his kisses are certain, and his gentle touches becomes addictive. His love is all-consuming. But when an old threat follows us to the lodge, Charles reveals his particular set of skills, deadly ones. Can I accept the man who treats me so sweetly but can kill without a thought? Under His Spell A haunted house, a ghost story of lost love, and a brand new love blooming under a full moon. This spooky sweet story is sure to get your blood racing for all the right reasons. Beauty Tempts the Beast Revenge is his life’s work, but when he ﬁnds his Beauty in the heart of an enemy, will he be up for a career change? Loan Shark’s Obsession He knows priceless objects when he sees them. So when he sees her, he knows. His Stolen Bride Her ﬁrst husband never touched her. He’s dead. Now she belongs to Santino, and there will be much, much touching. His Stolen Princess They were meant to be … until they weren’t. So, he steals her. Logical. Also, there’s a cat.

Stalking Her Sweetly Who’s stalking whom? Hitman’s Heart He’s a badass who kills without remorse. She’s a good girl who gets caught in the crosshairs. He saves her, but can he keep her? His Secret Treasure He says artifacts belong in a museum. She says he stole an ancient box that belongs to her. Can they come to terms over her box? My Hero’s Secret Baby He’s a hero to her, the boogeyman to everyone else. Can they have a future together? His Tiger Queen She’s a princess in a heavily guarded tower. He’s the prince next door. Did I mention there’s also a pet tiger? His Virgin Heiress She’s a thief. He keeps her safe. But can she give up jewel heists for love? Cu ed Love MINK’s personal favorite. Seriously. I love this book. Stu ed Stu

es, hitmen, true love, and accidental homicide? MINK at her ﬁnest. His Sweetest Sin He’s a priest, not a sinner … Until he sees her. Locking Her Down

She broke into an animal shelter. He’s the only one who can help her, but this attorney knows what he wants in return (hint: it’s not justice.) Marco’s Girl

Marco is the bad boy prince of a maﬁa empire, but his heart is set on a darling good girl. Pop-up Love Mobsters, mayhem, a Hallmark movie, and a pop-up shop full of love? Yes. Beauty and the Boss She wants to bring her cat to work. He wants to bend her over his desk. Win-win. His Virgin Queen He killed her husband and took her for himself. His Deadly Darling She’s spicy. He’s determined. Together, they’re unstoppable. Hitman’s Prey He always seemed so nice … (and hot). Snow Angel She wants to beat him in the lights competition; he just wants her. This Christmas is lit.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

MINK writes sweet and salty romances that always satisfy with a happily ever after. www.MINKromance.com Click here to sign up for MINK’s newsletter. Click here to join MINK’s Reader Group, Smitten Kittens, on Facebook!