He was gorgeous, but I’d met many gorgeous men who wanted me. As a showgirl, I was pursued often. I always said no.

Reid was a billionaire.

Pretty cool, but if anything, that was a turn-off for me. I had nothing against money—I wished I had a lot more of it—but money couldn’t change what had happened to me at his father’s hand.

No, his looks and money weren’t why I was interested.

I was interested because he was kind to me. I knew he wanted something from me, but he wasn’t pushing me. Of course, he could be playing an elaborate game. I was far from naïve, mostly thanks to his father.

The limo dropped me off, and I hopped out, navigating my way into the lobby and then through the casino of the grand hotel to get to the restaurant for brunch. Reid stood, dressed casually and looking yummy in dark blue jeans and a white button-down, waiting for me. His blue eyes brightened when he met my gaze.

“Morning,” he said.

“Good morning.”

He grabbed my hand—tingles shot through me—and led me into the restaurant.

“Mr. Wolfe,” the hostess said, “your table’s all ready.”

Once we were situated and our server had taken our drink orders, Reid smiled.

“How are you today, Zee?”

“Good, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Yeah. I was hoping to get in with my stylist today before my call, but she isn’t answering her line.”

“Oh.” Reid picked up his phone and punched in a few numbers. “Hi there. This is Reid Wolfe in Suite 2700. I need a salon and spa appointment right away.”

My eyes shot wide.

“Right. No, not for me. For a Ms. Zara Jones. An hour? Perfect.” He ended the call. Then to me, “You’re all set. Here at the salon and spa. Right after brunch.”

My jaw dropped. Seriously, I almost had to pick it up off the table.

Finally, I found my voice. “I can’t afford anything here.”

“You don’t have to. It’s all on me. I do own this hotel, after all.”

My mouth dropped open again.

“I know, I know,” Reid said. “I’m being presumptuous again, right?”

“A little.”

“I get it. You wouldn’t accept the shoes, and I understand, but I want you to look at this a different way.”

“How exactly is that?”

“My father put you through hell, and I want to help make up for it.”

“But—”

“Please. I know nothing can make up for what he did to you. But let me try. Please. I need to.”

“I… You don’t have to. I…got a settlement.”

“And if I know my father, he gouged you on that too.”

“I didn’t want much. Just enough to pay for the rehab and to start over somewhere new.”

“You should have asked for the world. You had him over a barrel.”

“I…”