“Seriously?” My oldest brother rolls his eyes.

  Griff shakes his head. “Isn’t it always about a woman?”

  “Hey, at least she was honest. Parker is still bullshitting everyone, playing the victim, like he played no role in everything that happened to him.”

  “When your name first got floated as the inspiration for Xayden, I read the book,” Maxon admits. “But that character is a heartless bastard. I mean, you can be a prick when it comes to business, but you’re never a spiteful prick.”

  I silence my phone again. “The rest of the world doesn’t share your sentiment, but thanks. We’ve only been family for a few years—”

  “Forget that,” Griff insists. “It’s not about how long we’ve been family. It’s the fact we are. We’re in your corner.”

  And I feel one-hundred-percent blessed because of it.

  “There’s got to be a way to get the truth out there,” Maxon says. “What if this woman corroborated your version of events?”

  I shake my head. “Impossible.”

  “Because?”

  “Long story.”

  Griff sits back in his chair. “Isn’t that convenient for Parker? He can craft whatever story he wants, and there’s no one but you to call him a liar.”

  My buddy Hayes, along with my other true friends—Graham, Echo, Kella, and Maryam—all know the truth, but… “No one who matters to the press, no.”

  “That sucks. The bright side is that paparazzi don’t live in Maui, so they aren’t camped out at your door.”

  “That’s about the only bright side of this mess. But when your phone is constantly blowing up—” Right on cue, it does again.

  Maxon looks angry on my behalf. “What are you going to do? Are you sure you don’t want to get the truth out?”

  It’s pointless. No one wants the story where Parker is the bad guy. They just want the lurid, gossipy tale of my unforgivable backstab and his supposed descent into mental hell. “Fuck that. I’m going to get even. I’m going scorched earth.”

  And he’ll never see it coming.

  When I make it to my office, I’m still annoyed. I finally turned off my damn phone. Since my voice mail is full, tabloid gossips can’t leave messages anymore. That’s a plus. But neither can anyone else, like a client. It blows.

  I’m so fed up.

  Cursing, I settle behind my sleek black desk and check the world financial indices, jotting down ideas to better shield clients from loss. Thankfully, Bethany and I already saw most of the current economic mess coming months ago and mitigated the damage. Her husband, Clint, nearly finished earning his degree online while studying for his CFP, is getting the hang of reading the financial tea leaves and responding quickly. But with Bethany breastfeeding baby number two and our client list still swelling, I’m really damn busy.

  “Mr. Costa?” My forty-something assistant, Lisa, peeks her head in my door. “I’ve got messages for you.”

  I scan the fistful of slips in her hand and frown. I have calls to return every morning, but not this many. “Throw away any from news outlets or internet gossip sites.”

  “Okay.” She filters through the papers in her hand, then tosses all but two. “Someone named Jacinda asked for a return call as soon as possible. She said to say she’s, um…still at the Four Seasons until Sunday.”

  A tourist I met in a bar. Everything we had to say, we communicated naked in her suite last Friday night. “Trash.”

  As I sip my coffee, Lisa reads the next message. “Someone named Maxie rang. She must have you confused with her doctor, because she said to tell you she needs vitamin D.”

  I nearly spit out my brew. Lisa’s glance is somewhere between confused and concerned. Apparently she has no idea that Saturday night’s casual fuck asked me for more dick. Thank God. “Trash.”

  She pushes her glasses up her nose and sends me a slightly censuring stare. “I know it’s none of my business—”

  “Then don’t say it.” Since we’ve had this discussion before, I know the lecture she’s about to give me. I could recite it.

  “I have to. I care about you,” she huffs. “If you ever want to be happy, you have to open yourself up to someone special.”

  “But you’re taken, Lisa.” I flash her a grin.

  She tsks. “I meant someone single, closer to your age. You have to trust your heart and believe in love. Look at all your brothers and sisters…”

  Every one of them is blissfully attached to their spouse and spitting out kids faster than I can blink. Maxon and Keeley now have two daughters with a third on the way. Griff and Britta seem to be a boy-breeding factory since they recently had their fourth. My other sister, Harlow, and her husband, quarterback legend Noah Weston, are seemingly trying to breed their own football team since they just had baby boy number three. My other wrong-side-of-the-blanket brother, Evan Cook, and his wife, Nia, have a boy and a girl, both frighteningly smart and precocious as hell. Bethany and Clint just had their second. I’m the lone bachelor standing and I like it that way, despite Lisa’s well-intended nagging.

  “I see most of them every day.” I ignore the rest of her speech by scanning the Dow again since it closed moments ago in New York. I wouldn’t call today’s trading a blood bath…but close.

  “Then you know how happy they are.”

  “I do.” Sadly, the Hang Seng futures don’t make a rebound tomorrow seem likely. Not that I expected one, given inflation. “But there’s more than one way to be happy.”

  “True, but you shouldn’t be alone.” Lisa sighs. “It’s time you realize that not everyone is out to hurt you.”

  “Not everyone, no.” Just most. Parker is a prime example.

  “If you give people a chance, they’ll learn to love you, not simply what you can do for them.”

  That’s true of my family, my good friends, and Lisa. Everyone else…I’m skeptical. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  I click over to my favorite financial guru’s blog and start scanning her take on today’s negative trading. The damn housing market looks like shit again. Interest rates aren’t helping.

  “You’re not listening.” Lisa sounds upset.

  I sigh. She means well, and I need to stop being rude. “I hear you, and I appreciate your concern.” With my track record, I don’t see myself ever getting hitched. “But I love work, I’m married to my job, and I’m happy with the status quo.” I grin. “Unless you’re ready to divorce Dan…”

  She rolls her eyes at my teasing. “Why would I marry a man barely older than my son? I’m not even sure men under thirty are house trained.”

  “I am. Mostly.” I wink.

  With an exasperated shake of her head, she turns for the door. Then she seems to remember something and whirls back. “Oh, your ten thirty, Mr. and Mrs. Hanson, canceled the call this morning. Family emergency. They rescheduled for tomorrow. I’ve already sent you their client intake forms, so—”

  “I’ve read them and prepared a list of recommendations, but I’ll save it for then. Anything else?”

  In the last three years, Lisa has become both my right and left hands. I can barely function professionally without her. But since my morning meeting is no longer coming, I should use that time to vet some overseas investment opportunities. I’ll probably start crafting a killer revenge plan to get back at Parker instead.

  No time like the present.

  “I booked a new appointment into that slot. She just happened to call moments after the Hansons. She’s coming in person.”

  Unusual. Frowning, I launch the calendar on my laptop. “C. Rose? Who the hell is that?”

  Lisa shrugs. “I thought you might know.”

  “Not a clue. Client intake forms?”

  “I sent them, but she warned that she wasn’t at her computer, so she wouldn’t get them completed before the meeting.”

  Which is in less than fifteen minutes. Damn it, I don’t like to go into a consultation cold, and Ms. Rose obviously hasn’t been screened. “Is she qualified?”

  We don’t touch clients with less than ten million to invest.

  “N-not entirely. But she swore she would bring documentation with her.”

  Unacceptable. “Lisa…”

  She lets out an exasperated sigh. “All right. Fine. She sounded adorable. Young and energetic, smart and—”

  “We don’t judge our clients, simply help them grow their wealth.”

  “And, as I was saying before you interrupted, perky. She seemed very interested in you, too.”

  “Perky isn’t a quality I enjoy in women.” I gravitate to a more sophisticated woman who likes documentaries, the outdoors, and sucking cock. “This is an investment brokerage, not a dating service.”

  “Maybe in this instance it could be both?” She sounds hopeful.

  Since Lisa is only trying to help, I don’t snap. “Sure. I can see the headline now: Beastly Broker Bangs Bodacious Client in Scandalous Seduction.”

  “You don’t look all that beastly,” says an unfamiliar feminine voice that somehow sounds girlish and polished at once. “And I don’t know about banging since I’ve come here with a proposal, not a proposition. But maybe you weren’t talking about me, since I’m not that bodacious?”

  I jerk my head up as Lisa winces and moves aside. In the doorway stands a brunette with wide dark eyes, long lashes, and a bee-stung mouth. She’s wearing a wraparound dress that clings to the curves of her breasts and reveals a hint of cleavage before banding around her tiny waist and hugging her lush hips. The silky fabric, in a shade of pink only slightly more sedate than Barbie, ends halfway down her alluring thighs. White heels with straps that wrap seductively around her ankles add a few inches to her below-average height.

  If this woman is claiming she’s not gorgeous as hell, she’s a liar. She also looks barely old enough to drink. Innocence clings to her.

  Idly, I wonder how fast I can corrupt her.

  Then I pray like fuck this sex bomb isn’t my ten thirty.

  I stand. “Can I help you, Ms.…”

  “I-I’m, um…C. Rose,” she stutters. “I have an appointment.”

  Damn it.

  Lisa shoots me a clandestine smile that’s as smug as it is elated, because she knows this woman is my type. “Come in. Can I get you coffee? Water?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Even Ms. Rose’s voice does something to me, especially reinforce how hot I am to do her.

  “Xavian Costa.” I step around my desk and approach, hand outstretched. The gesture is professional, but I’m mostly itching to touch her. “You said something about a proposal?”

  “Yes.”

  The closer I get, the more familiar she seems. I stop in my tracks. “Have we met?”

  She takes my hand with a noncommittal smile. A sizzle jolts up my arm.

  Holy shit. Did she have the same reaction?

  She looks startled, then quickly jerks her hand from mine, like I’ve burned her. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

  So she feels it, too.

  “I’ll leave you now. Let me know if you need anything.” Lisa hustles to the door and closes it behind her.

  Now I’m alone with a woman who likely lacks the funds to invest. Rather than escorting her out, like I should, I’m hoping I can persuade her to lose her clothes and spread her legs for me.

  Instead, I clear my throat and gesture to the chair in front of my desk. “Have a seat, please.”

  She nods and grips the pale clutch in her hand like she’s nervous, then crosses the room, her heels a soft click on my bamboo floors. The scent of her perfume wafts past me like a tease, something tantalizing I can’t put my finger on. Something I’ve never smelled until her.

  As we both take our seats, my heart revs. Through thick lashes, she lifts her gaze. Our eyes meet again. The zing of awareness nearly knocks me back.

  Jesus, I’ve been attracted to women before, but this pull is insane. Still, she’s supposedly here for business.

  “What can I do for you, Ms. Rose?”

  With a nervous curl of her hair behind her ear, she swallows. “I wanted to talk to you in person. Like I said, I have a proposal. I think we can help each other.”

  To scratch an itch? I’m all for that. But the determination on her soft face tells me her pitch has nothing to do with sex. “You’re not here to invest.”

  “No.”

  “You led my assistant to believe you were.” There’s a chiding note to my tone.

  She’s unapologetic. “Would you have seen me if I hadn’t?”

  If I’d known how beautiful she was, yes. But that’s not what she’s asking. “Probably not. I’m a busy man.”

  “I know. I’ll make this as quick as possible.” She sets her clutch on the edge of the desk, then takes a deep breath and lifts her chin. “I’m Corinne Emerson, Parker’s sister.”

  Her admission is like a slap. No wonder she looked familiar. I see it now, though her face is less round and her curves more filled out. She grew from a cute kid into a drop-dead gorgeous woman. And Parker knows my weaknesses… Goddamn it.

  I stand. “Get out.”

  As I march toward the door, she grabs my arm, her grip desperate. “Please. Just listen. Three minutes. If you still want me to leave then, I will.”

  “Since your brother sent you to spy on me, everything you’re going to say is a lie. His ploy doesn’t surprise me, but it’s low—even for him—to dangle his eminently fuckable sister in my face. You should think twice about letting him use you as bait.” I pull free from her hold and yank open the door to my office. “Go. We don’t have anything to say.”

  “We do if you want revenge.”

  I shouldn’t be taken in by her BS or her pretty face, but that grabs my attention. “Explain.”

  She side-eyes the yawning portal. “Shut the door and I will.”

  I’ll probably regret this, but she said the magic word—revenge. Slowly, I comply. Of course I know Parker sent her to befuddle me with lust, gain my trust, and find out what I’m up to so he can devise new ways to bury me in the press. Or find fodder for his next book. Either way, I’m not falling for his bullshit. But I will take advantage of Corinne’s visit. If I keep her talking, she might divulge something useful, something I can use to destroy her brother once and for all.

  Slowly, I shut the door and return to my seat. “Three minutes. If you don’t answer every one of my questions wholly and truthfully—”

  “I will.”

  Casting her a skeptical glance, I set a timer on my phone. “The clock is ticking. Let’s pretend you’re not lying to me.”

  “I’m not.”

  I scowl. “Why would you come to help me, of all people, get revenge against your brother?”

  “It’s a valid question…with a long explanation.”

  Is she trying to buy more time to lure me in? “Make it short.”

  She lets out a breath. “I run my own business. I started it in college as a fun way to make ends meet. Three weeks ago, everything changed and I’m in a financial bind. I need assistance now.” She pauses. “Or a fiancé.”

  For ten silent seconds, I simply stare. What she said doesn’t make sense, probably by design. I’m reluctant to get drawn into her sob story since I’m already too interested in the rest of her, but… “All right. I’ll bite. Your brother won’t help you with an investment or a loan?”

  Corinne shakes her head. “He’s the roadblock, and he’ll kill four years of my work if I can’t find a way around him.”

  Her problem isn’t mine. It’s likely all bullshit anyway…but what if it’s not? What if her quandary really does give me the opportunity for sweet revenge against Parker? Since he can’t stand being thwarted, he would absolutely hate it if I helped her with whatever business issue he’s blocking.

  But even if I don’t, I could still win. Corinne and I share a mutual attraction. If we spent a filthy fuckfest of a weekend in my bed, my nemesis would absolutely despise that.

  That possibility alone makes her spiel worth listening to.

  “Tell me more.” I kill the timer on my phone.

  “Thank you.” She sounds as if she genuinely means that.

  I’m not convinced she would willingly traipse into my office to backstab her one-and-only brother. Corinne used to worship him. Then again, she was a kid. It’s possible she grew up, realized what a self-serving shitbag Parker is, and decided to take action so he can no longer hold her back.

  “I’ve always wanted to make jewelry,” she continues. “It’s something my mom and I enjoyed doing together when I was a kid. After she and my dad died, I kept doing it. I got good at it.”

  Since I have a vague recollection of her making a necklace for a friend the Christmas we met, I simply nod. “Go on.”

  “When I started college, my tuition, room, and books were paid for, thanks to an educational fund my parents started for me, but I needed money for food and expenses.”

  “Parker had money.” He inherited a fortune from his late grandparents our junior year of college. The party we had in Vegas that spring break with a tiny fraction of it was sick.

  “I didn’t want his. I still don’t. Too many strings. And he’s always been big on me earning my own way so I could learn the value of a dollar and all that. That’s fine with me.”

  Something Parker himself never had to do. “And?”

  “I fell back on making jewelry. It was better than waiting tables until two a.m.” She shrugs. “So, as a freshman, I started an online store, selling my handcrafted jewelry.”

  “Makes sense.” I’m impatient to get to the point. “What does this have to do with me?”

  “During the last four years, my business grew from something that paid for a few extra bowls of ramen each week to something that afforded me a nice little living. Nothing extravagant, but I could keep a roof over my head and have an occasional splurge, especially once I homed in on hand-beading bands for smart watches.”