My traitorous breath hitches, and I feel myself sway forward as if he’s physically wrapped a hand around my throat and pulled me close. Nothing about him screams New York—not the suit that fits him to perfection but has clearly been worn through, time and again, and definitely not the slight accent that softens his consonants and elongates his vowels. A displaced Southerner, maybe. The fact that he approached me when every other guest has avoided me like the plague makes him either the dumbest man alive or the smartest.

If Guglielmo Donna taught me anything, it’s to not trust silver-tongued devils.

Still, I find myself more than willing to play the game. “And if I do as you say?”

His gaze darkens, the flecks of gold nearly consumed by shadow. His right hand leaves his pocket and I watch, heart pounding wildly, as he drags the pad of his thumb across his full bottom lip. It’s not meant to be seductive, I don’t think. More like a restless tic that he can’t quite suppress. When he lowers his arm, it’s to hold out his hand for me to take.

“Be brave,” he husks, “and find out.”

If Stassi could see me now, my sister would tell me to run.

Nothing in our lives has gone according to plan in the last year and a half. We’ve clung like beggars to dwindling hope, desperate to keep BellaDonna afloat after years of mismanagement. The money is all but gone, our reputation shredded to ribbons. Each hotel feels like another anchor, the combined weight enough to drag us so far beneath the ocean’s surface that we have no choice but to drown. Dad’s guilty verdict only sealed our fate.

After all this time hustling in the shadows, I’ve forgotten how it feels to have a man caress my skin and sigh my name.

I’ve forgotten how to live because I’m too busy just trying to survive.

“Give me a name.” Touching my fingers to the velvet necklace cinched around my throat, I don’t miss the way his steel gaze tracks the movement. “Make it up, if you want. I don’t care.”

The chime of crystal glassware and soft chatter fills the space between us. Then, gruffly, “You should.”

“Care?” I echo, stepping forward.

If I thought he was a gentleman, the next words out of his mouth are anything but: “Any name that I give you will be a lie. I’ll bend you over my knee and make you scream when you come, and I still won’t be the man you’re crying out for—because he doesn’t exist.”

“You’re assuming that I’ll let you fuck me.”