“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“And your personal finances?”

“I have some of what my parents left me, of course. I’m just, well, let’s just say I’m not as magazine-cover wealthy as everyone here seems to think.”

I sighed.

“Why the hell couldn’t you have told me sooner?”

“Why do you think, Kaavi? I was scared you would leave me. That you would hate me. That your family would hate me and I’d lose everyone in an instant.”

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. He looked so earnest. Like a little child who got lost somewhere. It must have been hard growing up without parents. I thought about my huge house, and my mum and dad who always had my best intentions at heart, no matter how misguided they were. I was so very lucky.

“It still doesn’t excuse you lying to me, you know.”

“I know. I’m so sorry. I know. I promise this is it, okay? You’ll never find me lying to you ever again.”

And with that, he kissed me.

Not the bullshit, let’s have a show for the aunties peck. A full-on kiss. The kind we had when we were smashed out of our minds and the world around us evaporated as we stumbled into a hotel room somewhere. I let myself melt into him.

So he lied. But he also got caught. Now he owed me. And if there was one thing you learned about doing business, it was always better to be a creditor than a debtor.

He leaned me up against the wall, and I felt his hands push into the silky neckline of my dress. I reached up and bit his lip.

“God, you’re hot,” he murmured, pulling away from my mouth and trailing kisses down my jaw. “We need to get away from the crowd more often.”

“You better not fuck up my hair,” I whispered. He trailed his hands down my arms and pinned me up against the wall. I fucking hated it when he did that. He always wanted to be in control. And so did I. Maybe that was why we worked in some fucked-up way.

We heard a door slam and pulled away quickly. Just in time, too, because a waiter in uniform walked out with a crate of wine bottles.

“Sorry, madam. Sorry, sir.” He practically ran away as soon as he saw us.

“We’d better get out there, huh?”

Spencer smiled back. “Sure. I just can’t wait to do more of this, you know.”

Of course he fucking couldn’t.

I pulled my phone out and flipped the camera onto selfie mode, checking my hair and makeup. Shit. I’d have to fix my lipstick the moment we got back inside.

I had a text from Mike. Just a reply from when I texted him earlier today. But it was enough, somehow, to shake me awake.

“Hey, Spence,” I tried, making sure my voice was relaxed.

“Yes, darling?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask. There’s someone that’s reached out to our team in San Francisco about making a significant donation. I think the last name was Basket or Bassett or something like that. Is it someone you’ve managed to rope in?” I smiled widely in false gratitude.