Hope reignites. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night. But giving up our scheme isn’t the solution to our problem.”

  She meets me halfway, standing just outside the first rays of dawn beaming through the back windows. But I can’t see her face. Has she been crying? Is she sad? Does she miss me at all?

  I need to know.

  Spinning around, I switch on the lamp on an adjacent hall table. It doesn’t provide much light but enough to show me she’s not merely been crying, but sobbing. Her bottom lip looks swollen, as if she’s dug her teeth into it all night. And there’s a love bite on the side of her neck. Did I leave that…or did Riley?

  The question threatens to grind my composure to dust.

  “I don’t want to rehash this. Please.” She swallows. “I’m sorry to barge in. I just came to collect the rest of my things. I didn’t expect you to be awake.”

  Wait. She came at this hour because she didn’t want to see me? “So you were just going to take your shit and go, no goodbye?”

  “I thought it would be best if I packed up all my business-related stuff when I wouldn’t disturb you.”

  That’s a yes, and it hurts. “Then what?”

  “I need to keep working. Orders are pouring in. I’m more behind than ever.”

  Having something to focus on is probably a welcome distraction, but that wasn’t what I asked. “What about our plans? You’re seriously going to give up, rather than let this nonsense blow over?”

  “Nonsense? Is that what it feels like to you? Your clients don’t think it is. Neither does your boss. The public doesn’t seem to, either. I appreciate you trying to help me. Truly. But your courage and fortitude are wrecking you, and I can’t allow that.”

  It’s so like her to protect others, but I don’t need her to worry about me. “So you’re just going to let your brother win? You’re going to let him hang on to your inheritance for nearly three more years and stifle your company’s growth?”

  She licks her lips nervously and looks away.

  I freeze. There’s something she’s not telling me. “Corinne, are you going to let him do that?”

  “No. I have another solution. Riley has agreed to loan me the money. I’m going back to the mainland with him tomorrow morning to finalize everything.”

  Pure betrayal floods my system. From one heartbeat to the next, my temper spikes, instantly volcanic. Fury scorches my restraint and manners. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Xavian, I—”

  “You what? After everything we planned and did together, when the going got tough you slinked off with another man and took a better offer. Doesn’t this sound fucking familiar?”

  She rears back like I’ve slapped her. But that’s how I goddamn feel. I’ve spent all night thinking how in love I am with Corinne Emerson and inventing ways to win her back. She used our time apart to secure the loan she wanted all along from the ex she still has feelings for.

  Bravo, princess. You outplayed me. I should have known better…

  Spinning away from her, I grab a glass sitting on the nearby kitchen island and hurl it across the room. It crashes into a cabinet before shattering all over the floor. The sound isn’t nearly as satisfying as I’d hoped. It merely ramps up my teeth-gritting, fist-clenching wrath. I’d give just about anything to hit someone who deserves it. Riley and Parker come to mind.

  Corinne’s gasp has me whirling back. She’s visibly shaken. “What do you want me to say? I’m doing what makes the most sense. You’re ambitious, and I know how meaningful your ventures with your family are. I can’t stand the thought that I’ve jeopardized—”

  “But this is the part where I fuck off? I’ve been there and done that. But don’t pretend this isn’t about you.” I prowl closer, relishing the way she backs up until she hits the counter behind her. “Are you getting back together with him, too? Did you spend last night in his bed?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Sure it’s not. But hey, I got the consolation prize of your V-card, so I got revenge and a little extra something on the side. I should be grateful, right?”

  The rational part of my brain tells me I’m fucking up everything. I can’t assume the worst, then attack her for it. The enraged part doesn’t give a shit about anything except burning everything to the ground. I hurt, so she should, too. Never mind that she probably already does after being called some of the most demeaning names on the internet and derided for her sexuality.

  Weren’t you the one who insisted on getting her off in public?

  Yeah. And the blowback sucks. But I didn’t think she’d throw in the towel and leave me because of it.

  I feel so fucking empty without her.

  “That’s disgusting. You don’t need to slam me. I’m not Hadley.”

  Yes, she is, only worse. Because I actually love her. In retrospect, I glommed onto Hadley because, for once, I could be not just a driven, too-smart-for-his-own-good fukboi, but a partner. A hero. A savior. The fact that Hadley had a banging body was a bonus. Her drive to succeed made her feel like a kindred spirit.

  Corinne has all those same qualities—but she’s more. She’s soft and good and kind. She’s sensitive to others’ feelings. She tries to help and placate and make the world a better place. I admire the hell out of her for it. I want that sunshine in my life, filling my heart.

  Of course, none of her virtues apply to me. Why should they? I’m the third-born bastard of a criminal the world branded a sociopath. I’m stuck in that shadow. My brief brush with happiness and light has been snatched away, leaving me in darkness once more.

  It reinforces the fact that no woman actually wants me for me. Once Corinne got a few orgasms and her ex’s attention, she didn’t need me anymore, so she sayonara’d off. And I feel fucking blindsided. Like a fool, I never saw her goodbye coming.

  “Answer the question,” I snap. “Did you fuck him?”

  “No.”

  The relief I want to feel doesn’t come. “Are you going to marry him?”

  She hesitates. “He wants to get back together. Seeing me with you made him realize that breaking things off with me was a mistake.”

  “Isn’t that convenient?”

  She sends me a shaky sigh. “Please don’t make this harder. The loan is contingent on me severing all ties with you.”

  That sends my already stratospheric temper into outer space.

  “Where is that motherfucker?” I snarl.

  “Confronting him won’t solve anything. This is a sensible solution that allows you to cut me loose, get back to your job and your pending ventures with your family, and go on with the life you had before I messed everything up.”

  Fuck that. I don’t want what I had before. I want what I felt when Corinne was mine.

  But she’s telling me in every way possible—politely, of course—that I need to stop holding on to us. For her, we were never real.

  “Yeah. Fine. I’ll do that.” I shoulder my way past her and head for the liquor cabinet in my living room. “Get your stuff and go.”

  “Wait.” She wraps her fingers around my arm, her touch like fire. It stops me in my tracks. “Xavian…”

  I’m afraid to turn back to her. Inside, I’m an incendiary mix of agony and rage, underpinned by a sickening feeling that history is repeating itself, only worse. “What?”

  “I’m not sure why you’re angry with me. I’m releasing you from this agreement that messed up your life so terribly. Don’t you get it? If we break up publicly and I return to LA, you can issue an apology. I’ll do the same, and I’ll start taking the steps to grow my business. I’ll focus all my social media on that. You can focus yours on business, on family, and on your”—she drags in a shaking breath—“social life. Just like you did before.”

  Fuck hiding my hurt. Maybe Corinne needs to see it, even if she thinks I’m a pussy. Even if she makes fun of me for getting my feelings hurt. Even if she doesn’t give a single shit. “You mean when I fucked a different woman nearly every night because I didn’t think any one of them would ever want me for more? Because I was so goddamn lonely that I talked myself into believing that someone touching me, even if they didn’t know my name, was better than no one touching me at all?”

  Her big dark eyes tear up. “Don’t ever think that. Any woman would be beyond lucky to have you.”

  “Just not you.” I yank from her soft grasp. “I wish you all the best, princess.”

  That full bottle of whiskey is calling my name and I suddenly have an overwhelming desire to answer. Fuck that, to drown.

  “Same to you.” Suddenly, I hear the tink of something metallic on the nearby counter. She sets my house key on the gleaming surface. The engagement ring I settled on her finger a few short days ago wobbles just beside it.

  The sight rips out my heart.

  “I’ll send for the rest of my things, and I’ll let you know if I’m pregnant,” she murmurs. “I hope you fulfill your dreams and achieve everything you’ve ever wanted.”

  Suddenly, she lays a gossamer kiss on my cheek. In that moment, I’m terrified that if I let Corinne go, I’ll never touch—hell, even see—her again.

  Whirling to her, I grab her shoulders and pin her to the nearby cabinet. She lets out a startled gasp—a sound I swallow by slanting my lips over hers and barging my way into her mouth. It’s desperate. I feel desperate.

  Corinne stiffens, splaying her hands against my chest as if she means to push me away. Frantically, I cup her nape, sink deeper, and tangle my tongue against hers. She releases the breath she’s holding, exhaling with me, then melts against me, giving me her tongue. Her hands follow suit, creeping from my chest to curl around my shoulders before she pulls me closer. The whimper at the back of her throat lights the powder keg of my desire.

  The sudden honking of a car horn has her leaping away, startled fingers pressed to her lips. She stares at me like she’s made a grave mistake. “I’m sorry.”

  Why is she apologizing when I kissed her? “Who’s honking?”

  Corinne skitters back out of the kitchen. “Riley is waiting for me. I’ve got to go.”

  And she’s running out on me because that asshole beckoned curbside?

  Yes, because he’s funding her business and she’s choosing the safe, familiar option.

  “You’re going to let him dictate whether I see you again?”

  Her eyes mist over again. “I think it’s for the best…but I’ll never forget you.”

  The catch in her whisper rips out my heart as she lets herself out the front door and closes it behind her with a final, quiet click.

  I pound my fist into the nearest wall, then wrench open the liquor cabinet, ripping the lid off the bottle.

  My life will never be the same without her.

  I don’t even know what fucking time it is when the ringing of my phone jerks me out of my stupor. The glare through the living room window blinds me with the fact the sun is about to set. In one hand, I grip the neck of the whiskey bottle that’s now mostly empty. In the other, I’m holding my vibrating phone.

  The last ten hours of my life are gone. I have no idea what happened.

  All I know is that Corinne isn’t coming back, and I don’t know how I’ll ever recover.

  The cell continues to jangle. With a curse, I slam the bottle on the coffee table. My head pounds. My mouth feels like a fuzzy rodent crawled onto my tongue and died. My head throbs like someone beat it with a hammer.

  That’s nothing compared to the agony in my chest.

  Since I’m too bleary-eyed to read the display, I scowl as I answer whoever this disruptive bastard is. “What?”

  “Hey, Costa. Sorry it’s taken me longer than expected to get this information to you. But I hope you’re sitting down. You’re going to love this.”

  Owen, the PI. Vaguely, my brain recognizes his voice. But between Corinne and my colossal drunkfest, I can’t remember what he was investigating.

  “Put it in an email. I’ll read it in the morning.”

  “Are you sure? Last time we talked, you seemed pretty adamant that you wanted everything I could dig up on Riley Stephens ASAP. I got the dirt—and then some.”

  That’s right. I did ask Owen for that cocksucker’s secrets. Unfortunately, it’s too late for them to make a difference.

  “For instance…” he goes on. “I found out that he stopped making his student loan payments a little over a year ago.”

  I shouldn’t care. But unsolved puzzles and things that don’t make sense bug the shit out of me. How is Riley going to lend Corinne money if he can’t pay his own bills? Still… “He’s not the only person struggling to settle that debt.”

  “Nope, but he’s the only person having his payments made on their behalf every single month for the last year by Parker Emerson.”

  That tidbit bolts me up from my slouch on the sofa. “No shit?”

  Why would Parker do that? The answer is right there. My whiskey-soaked brain just can’t unravel it.

  “No shit. Last year, Stephens returned the engagement ring he bought for Corinne on a Saturday. Emerson made the first loan payment for him three days later. He’s been making them since.”

  In other words, after Parker was assured Riley ended things with Corinne? That controlling prick bribed her ex to break up with her? Not that I put it past Parker to throw his cash around, but holy fuck. Riley took the buyout and walked away from Corinne? It sure looks that way.

  But the bigger question is why the son of a bitch has suddenly returned, offering her cash…

  “What’s his bank balance?” I bark at Owen.

  “About three thousand bucks. He’s got a 401k that’s tanking and a modest savings account his grandfather left him. With his car and the apartment he bought in New York, he’s probably worth a hundred grand.”

  So where the fuck is Riley coming up with the five million to lend Corinne?

  There’s only one answer that makes sense.

  If Parker was able to pay Riley to go away, he could just as easily bribe the schmuck to come back. They’re both taking advantage of Corinne’s tender heart and lingering feelings in different ways.

  I stand, figuring out how quickly I can shower, sober up enough to get in my car, and race across the island to find her—wherever she is. She deserves to know she’s being deceived by two assholes who claim to love her.

  Then I remember she thinks it’s “sensible” if we’re no longer together. She doesn’t want me to care about her anymore.

  “Do you know where he’s staying?” I can’t stop myself from asking, even if there’s no point because I can’t beat down his door and pound in his face—though I’d love to.

  “Stephens? Same hotel as Parker Emerson.” He rattles off the name of a ritzy resort on the beach.

  “Isn’t that a coincidence?”

  Owen snorts. “Since Emerson is paying for both rooms? No.”

  “How fucking like Parker.” I thought all along that Riley’s reason for being on the island made no sense, and I was right.

  My heart might be broken, but my bullshit meter is still working.

  “I’m guessing he brought in the ex to break you two up.”

  That’s my read. I’m fucking pissed that it worked. Which brings me back to what I do with the information Owen just laid in my lap.

  If I tried to tell Corinne, would she even listen?

  “Do you have proof?”

  Owen scoffs. “What do you think? I’m a professional. I would never call with this information if I couldn’t back it up.”

  Hope, that ever-optimistic bastard, rekindles inside me. My inner cynic smothers it. Corinne doesn’t want me or the carnival ride I’ve made of her life. But I love that goddamn woman. If I can keep her from stepping into her brother’s trap and hooking up—or god forbid, settling down—with his puppet, I’ll at least have done what I can to make sure she has a happy future.

  “Send it to me.”

  “Already in your inbox. Anything else?”

  I don’t think so, but… “Be on standby, just in case.”

  “You got it. By the way, as a bonus for being a repeat customer, I’ve got another tidbit for you. Parker hooked up—and cheated on his girlfriend—with that gorgeous blonde from the big-screen rompy romcoms.” He rattles off the name of a famous actress most every heterosexual guy I know would like to bang. “She told her assistant and a few close friends he’s a lousy lay.”

  That makes me laugh, mostly because it fits. Before Hadley’s grand exit, she admitted that, as a lover, Parker was a selfish douche who didn’t ring her bell. Funny that some things never change.

  “Do I want to know how you found that out?”

  “You don’t. Just be grateful.” Owen laughs. “Call me if you need me.”

  After we hang up, I sprawl back on the sofa, bouncing my phone on my knee and wondering what the fuck I do with all this information.

  With a sigh, I open my emails, take screen shots of the information Owen collected that prove every assertion, and paste the information into a text to Corinne. At worst, she’ll ignore me. At best… No, I can’t dive headfirst into some stupid fantasy where she comes back, throws her arms around me, and tells me she loves me. I’ll drive myself crazy.

  I hit the send button. Nothing happens. No delivery confirmation. No indication she’s read my message. No reply. Minutes tick by. Nothing changes.

  I can only come to one conclusion: Corinne blocked me.

  What the fuck? Did Riley put her up to that, another stipulation before he supposedly loans her the cash? Or did she decide she needs me out of her life forever?

  Yeah, that makes the most sense, and I have to stop trying to rationalize ways in which the last twelve hours haven’t been about her cutting me loose.

  Son of a bitch.

  I reach for the last quarter of the whiskey bottle. “Why the fuck not? Hair of the dog and all that. Bottoms up.”

  Grimacing the whole way, I chug the rest. I haven’t had anything to eat since last night, so the booze crashes into my empty stomach. The buzz lights me up fast. The pain of her departure dulls over again, but it’s still there like a nagging toothache.