I was surprised and should’ve stopped him sooner, but I felt like he was finally showing his true colors and I need to know exactly who I’m considering adding to the Fox Industries roster. I was handing him enough rope to hang himself with, mentally determining whether I could step away from our acquisition option for TRE altogether.

  And while I was processing business data, the one thing that matters more to me than work crumbled into ruins.

  No, Tiffany doesn’t crumble. She explodes like a nuclear warhead—loud, impactful, and gloriously beautiful in its destructive force. Even in the middle of her rage, she was eloquent and clear, her strength radiating out through the entire restaurant. She knows who she is, knows her worth, and will not let anyone piss on that. Despite her temper and outburst, tonight was likely the most outward sign of the equality in our relationship. She’s not pandering to me as the older man or CEO. She’ll tell me off just as readily as anyone else.

  I need that. Brave, bold, mouthy, unafraid, confident, strong, smart, kind, caring . . . I need it all. I need Tiffany.

  I pull up to her apartment, praying she’s here. The elevator takes forever, and I sprint from there to her door and bang hard on its surface, but there’s no answer. I bang again, harder, and adding a yell through the door. “Tiffany! Open the door. We need to talk.”

  There’s no reply from inside, but from across the hallway a neighbor’s door opens and a woman looks out warily from behind the chain lock. “She’s not here.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask, feeling worry gnaw at my gut. Where else could she be?

  The neighbor lifts a brow like ‘what did I say?’, still looking like she’s got 9-1 dialed on her phone behind the door, with her thumb hovering over the 1 button again. “I’ve been stalking my peephole, watching for my food delivery for the last thirty minutes, and haven’t seen her come home.”

  She’s watching me carefully to see how I’ll take that news, and I take a deep breath, calming myself before I get hauled off by the cops. “If you see her, please call me. It’s urgent.”

  I pull a business card from my wallet and hand it to her. She holds back until the card reaches the crack in her door, then takes it, looking at it critically as she reads my name. She glances back up at me. “I’ll tell her you stopped by, Daniel Stryker.”

  “No, don’t.”

  Her eyes narrow sharply, and any hope I had of the neighbor telling me if Tiffany comes home evaporates into thin air. Fuck.

  Before I can try and plead my case, a delivery guy walks up, and as he hands over the food, I disappear outside only to find fate seems to be tossing me a bone here. What I was looking for all along is pulling up right now as Tiffany climbs out of a cab out front.

  I don’t know how I beat her here, but I’m not going to question the perfection of the timing.

  “Tiffany?”

  She startles, and I see her weighing her options, considering getting right back in the taxi to get away from me. Quickly, I close the gap, not touching her and freaking her out but putting a hand on the door frame.

  “We need to talk.”

  Tiffany snorts, her eyes still flashing with anger. “You said everything you needed to,” she snaps. “The silence was deafening.”

  She pushes past me, her heels clicking on the concrete as she stomps toward her door. I follow right behind her. I wrap my hand around her forearm, stopping her and stepping next to her, my mouth close to her ear. “Tiffany, please.”

  She glares at me in response, but I stand my ground. “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

  Despite the agreement, she resumes her already speedy steps at time-and-a-half tempo, and I follow, not like a lost puppy but like a stalking tiger. We have some things to discuss, and I’m not leaving until she understands the method to my madness. My silence with Paul was not about her, and it certainly wasn’t intended to hurt or offend her. It was about me and Fox.

  As she unlocks her door, I see the light change in the peephole across the hall and give the neighbor a quiet nod. They might have been trying to block me, but they were doing it for the right reasons. I can respect that.

  The door opens, and we’re back in Tiffany’s apartment, behind a locked door, where we can finally talk this out. But before I can say a word, she starts her rampage as though she never stopped.

  “How could you!” she says, whirling on me. It’s not a question but rather an accusation. And without a breath, she keeps rolling.

  “That pompous asshole was being rude and crude, and you didn’t say a fucking word to defend me. To defend us.” She points from her chest to mine, digging her red-tipped fingernail into my skin through my shirt.

  “You didn’t give me a chance,” I snap defensively. “And he was obviously wrong!”

  “Ugh!” She spins to stomp away from me, ranting more. “I told you up front to be honest with me. You said you wanted ‘more’. Remember that? I do. Because I wanted it. Guess I’m the naïve one for believing you! You let me hope that this was something and then sit there silent as a fucking statue with no reaction. Tell me . . . what does a woman have to do to get a reaction out of the great Daniel Stryker?”

  “Enough!” I shout. It shocks her enough for her eyes to widen, but just as quickly, they narrow sharply as she crosses her arms. The fury coursing through her is electric, calling to the anger in my own blood.

  “I didn’t say anything to that asshole because he was digging his own grave,” I continue. “Before you left, you heard us agree to a fresh contract negotiation without conflicts. But do you think for one fucking second that I would go into business with someone who speaks about you that way?”

  Tiffany looks surprised and eyes me warily. “Explain.”

  I prowl toward her, past ready to have a chance to tell my side.

  “Tiffany, people have been kissing my ass and putting up façades with me for decades,” I point out, “and I have to tease out who’s genuine and who wants me to do something for them. That’s just gotten harder over the past few years.”

  She interrupts to ask, “You think I want something from you? I don’t need some knight in shining armor, but I expected you to have my back.”

  “And I expected you to know me well enough to give me the benefit of the doubt for a fucking second!” I yell, pleading.

  Tiffany gasps.

  My outburst surprises me. I pride myself on control, my ability to contain my emotions and make logical decisions no matter the situation. But the fear of losing something I’ve only just begun to explore hits sharply, pulling up the sludge of the past from deep in my soul.

  I beat at my chest with a fist. “I said I wanted more with you, and I mean it. I haven’t felt like this about anyone in years. But the only woman I’ve ever trusted, ever let in . . . she betrayed me and left me a shell of a man. Without Elle, I wouldn’t have recovered. And now . . . I want you, but you scare the fuck out of me because of how quickly you’ve gotten inside my shields.”

  “I’m not her,” Tiffany says quietly, approaching me. “I’m not her, Daniel.”

  I nod, my throat getting tight with emotion. “No, you’re not. You’re strong, so much so that you carry the weight of everyone else on your shoulders. Because you care that much. You would never abandon someone, but that doesn’t mean I trust it. In fact, that scares me even more because with every day, every touch, you slip into my heart more and more, filling it with hope. And I want to trust it. I want to trust you so fucking bad. But I’m scared.”

  “You’re scared? You’re my fantasy come true, all I’ve wanted, and if this goes south, I’ll lose not only you but my best friend,” Tiffany says, her voice dropping to a frightened whisper. “Daniel . . . I’m betting it all on us.”

  Her words quench the last of my anger, and I reach for her. “You’re not going to lose Elle. Or me, Tiffany. You’re mine.”

  She looks up, tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes. “Say it again.”

  “You’re not going to lose Elle.”

  She smiles, tears still there but the smallest sliver of humor seeping back in between us. “No, the other part.”

  I open my hand again, beseeching her. “You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

  She takes a step, and I think I’m going to fold her into an embrace when she suddenly leaps at me. Thankfully, I’m half ready, and I catch her in my hands as her legs go around my waist, locking us together. Her skirt bunches as she climbs me, getting higher and higher, legs tighter and tighter.

  “You’re mine, Daniel Stryker,” she growls before her mouth attacks mine.

  Her kiss is truly hungry, as though she wants to taste my words, so I murmur them again into the shared air between us. “You’re mine, Tiffany. Mine.”

  She whimpers, but it’s the only thing soft about her as she kisses my jaw, nibbling her way to my ear. I need my hands, need to touch her all over. I search for a wall and spin her, slamming her back against the door. She grunts at the contact, not of the wood at her back but of my cock as I find the cradle of her warmth. Even through her panties, I can feel her heat against my slacks.

  Pinned between me and the door, she’s at my mercy. I grab a handful of her hair, tilting her head to the side. “Is this what you want?” I ask, reaching between her legs. “To be my woman?”

  Tiffany grinds against my thumb, her lashes fluttering in pleasure. “More . . . please . . . more.”

  She bucks her hips as much as she can, searching for something only I can give her. I pull her panties to the side, slamming two fingers deep into her wetness. She spasms against me instantly, crying out loudly. She bumps her head against the door a few times in agonized pleasure before she thrashes it back and forth, her face a vision of release.

  Distantly, I hear a door open and then a hesitant knock on the other side of Tiffany’s door. From a bare inch of wood away, a voice asks, “Tiffany? Everything okay?”

  The neighbor. She must’ve heard every shout, every accusation, and every ecstatic sound Tiffany is making even still. Except that she’s not sure if these are screams of pleasure or pain. Leaning into Tiffany, I whisper into her ear, fucking her slow and deep with my fingers.

  “Tell her. Tell her you’re okay. Now that you know you’re mine.” I bite at her neck, sucking at the sensitive skin there, wanting to mark her so she never again questions my feelings for her.

  Tiffany cries out again, turning her head to call through the door, “I’m fine, Carissa. Fiiine.”

  Carissa doesn’t sound convinced. “You sure? You sound weird.”

  I rub that spot inside Tiffany, making her hips slam hard and fast against the door. She cries out, “Yes, yes! I’m . . . goood!”

  Carissa must realize what’s happening and that she’s no longer required, because I hear her fast steps across the hall and then her door slams shut. With a satisfied smirk, I imagine her peeking through the peephole again, but it doesn’t matter.

  What matters is Tiffany.

  I pull my hard cock free and lower her onto me, ignoring the rest of our clothes to thrust deep inside her. Tiffany cries out again, clinging to me as we meet, our hips slapping wetly and our bodies tight.

  With every thrust, I grunt a single word, holding her tighter.

  “Mine.”

  Yes, I’m claiming her. Yes, I know that I don’t really ‘own’ her. But the truth is, right now, I’d fight with all my heart and strength for her.

  I’d die for her.

  “Daniel . . . Daniel . . .” Tiffany gasps, her pussy tightening around me as she rises further and further toward the edge. “Oh, fuck, I love you!”

  I pause, my cock throbbing with the need for release at her words, staring into her eyes. “You what?”

  “I love you,” she says evenly, no shame at all. This isn’t some in the throes of passion utterance. This isn’t saying it because it’s expected. She’s saying it because . . . it’s true.

  She loves me.

  And with those three words, she unlocks what I’ve been unable to say to her. My own truth.

  “I love you, too.”

  She kisses me in a moment of sweetness, and then I thrust into her again, hard and deep and fast. In seconds, we’re on the edge, and with a cry of ecstasy, she releases around me, her pussy milking me and triggering my own climax.

  I come hard enough that my legs shake, and I press Tiffany against the door harder to hold her up as my cream fills her. She’s gripping me, her legs tight around my waist and her arms wrapped around my neck, not wanting to let me go either.

  “Yes . . . I want it all,” she groans, shuddering in her own post-orgasmic bliss. I think she means my cum, but what I hear is something much better.

  I’m going to give her exactly what she said. She wants it all.

  Chapter 22

  Tiffany

  I’m in love with Daniel Stryker. One hundred percent, head over heels, we’re one soul in two bodies in love.

  I mean, I thought I was before. But I’ve learned that what I had before was a girl’s crush. Truth was, I didn’t really know him. I had a crush on the figure I’d created in my own mind.

  Now, though? Now I know the man, not just the fantasy. I know the passionate, fiery heart that hammers beneath the calm, cool, collected exterior. I know what it feels like to be left covered in cum and hickies, and I know what it’s like to be filled with every inch of him while his eyes lock on mine and he says, ‘I love you, Tiffany,’ directly into my soul.

  I’m in love with the man who stopped mid-makeup-fuck when I screamed that I love him and not only told me the truth with nothing but honesty in his words, but he repeated it, driving the point home with his heart and his cock.

  Because Daniel Stryker isn’t going to leave this unclear. This is going to be a hundred percent crystal between us.

  That’s who I’m in love with.

  And not that I’m an easy sell, but it also helps that he got me coffee again this morning.

  He seems to have quickly figured out that it’s the way to my heart.

  Coffee and orgasms. Orgasms and coffee.

  I wonder if he could make me come while I’m drinking coffee? Hmm. Wait . . . scratch that, it sounds like a sure-fire way to end up with second-degree burns on my tender niblets. So we’ll stick to one, then the other.

  Last night, he gave me three—orgasms, not coffees—and the last one was so intense and emotional that I cried. I can’t say I’ve ever done that for coffee, so there’s definitely a hierarchy of the paths to my heart.

  But mostly, I think the key is Daniel.

  His growled declarations of love don’t hurt either. Back when this was a mere crush, I think I’d vaguely expected him to be sweet and romantic in bed, but his rough passion is infinitely better than any fantasy I created in my head. At the memory, my core clenches, sore from delightful overuse and reminding me that I wish I could have him inside me again right now.

  Unfortunately, we can’t afford to take another day off and stay at my apartment. I have work to do, and he has an urgent meeting with Human Resources and Legal before dealing with Mark and Brandon.

  Today will be tough for him.

  I’ve learned so much about Daniel in the past few weeks, and nothing triggers him more than betrayal. He can take disrespect, he can take teeth-baring aggression, and he can take apathy. He’ll let those go in the end, figuring it’s your loss.

  But betrayal?

  No way in hell. He wants to understand why members of the Fox family would work against him this way. After what happened in his past, he needs to understand because he’s been cut to the bone by it before.

  During a break between rounds last night, we talked while we hydrated and refueled. He told me about Sandra, his ex-wife, and how he came back from shopping with Elle one Saturday to find the house empty, the closet stripped, and a piece of paper taped to the TV.

  Daniel,

  I’m tired of being second-string in your life. I want to be the center of a life. I want to live an adventure. I can’t do that with you. I’ve packed up my things and I’m moving in with Andi. I’ve already called a lawyer. Let’s keep this as civil as possible. It’s best for the child.

  Sandra

  The fact that his wife had left him for an old college friend ripped Daniel’s guts out. He’d been utterly blindsided by her abandonment and baffled by her ability to simply write off Elle’s existence.

  It was a very different story from the one Elle tells. To her, her mother just ceased to exist, and her memories focus on Daniel’s assurances. On how, even as he worked hard, he did everything to make Elle’s life happy and fulfilled. How even when he fell short, she knew he loved her.

  His memories, meanwhile, centered on his feelings of anger and doubt. How he’d struggled, locking down a part of himself and vowing to never trust anyone again. How the only person he really let in his life was his daughter, and the pain it caused him when he felt like he wasn’t enough.

  He kept the world out, only dating when socially necessary, but never seriously, researching business associates and employees thoroughly and even encouraging Elle to be careful giving her heart away.

  But he trusts me. He loves me.

  And if this is a dream, I will strangle the person who wakes me from this bliss.

  But even dreams have some boring reality mixed in, I guess, because this morning, I find myself in the lobby, tackling another day. Stephanie is on the phone next to me, politely telling a lady for the third time that yes, she can absolutely come in for a tour, but only during the allowed times, and no, it doesn’t include a meet and greet with the ‘most wanted bachelor in the city’ CEO despite her certainty that he would appreciate her considerable assets.

  Previously, I would’ve been filled with jealous rage at some other woman thirsting after Daniel, but not now. Now, he’s my Daniel, so I roll my eyes with Stephanie and silently giggle at the woman’s audacity. I mean, you do you, boo, and shoot your shot, but . . . damn.

  The elevator dings, and I glance up, a smile blooming instantly when I see Daniel. He’s wearing a black suit that looks sleek and expensive, a silver tie that highlights the sexy looking bits of gray at his temples, and a stern expression. Ricky and Billy are at his sides, looking equally grim. They walk past us without a glance like I expect, but then Daniel stops and retraces his last few steps to stand in front of me, Stephanie, and Megan.