Breaking her will definitely be more fun.

  “No. I’m successful because I’m ruthless.”

  She says nothing, but her silence concedes the point. She knows. That’s enough for now.

  When the bartender sets her drink down, she grabs the elegant tumbler like it’s a lifeline. That’s the only outward clue that I make her nervous.

  It’s the perfect time to make myself clear. “The forty million is a buyout, not a loan.”

  “He won’t agree.”

  “Then I can wait for him to go bankrupt and buy it up for pennies on the dollar.”

  She glares at me. “How do you know we don’t have other financing?”

  “If you did, you wouldn’t be here.”

  The way she purses her lips is a confession. She’s out of options. “Why do you imagine Vance will listen to me?”

  “He needs the money too badly not to.”

  “He’ll never sell to you.”

  Does she think I’m going to give either of them a choice? “I’ll make sure he has the right incentive.”

  That sets her on edge—as it should. “Like what?”

  “Leave that to me.”

  Whitney tries to shrug like it’s irrelevant, but I see through her. She knows she’s cornered.

  That does my black heart good.

  “Whatever,” she says flippantly. “What’s your proposal? What do I have to agree to so my brother gets the money?”

  “We’re having a drink first, remember?”

  “I’m having a drink. You’re watching me for reasons I can only guess at.”

  She shouldn’t have to guess too hard, especially when she’s dressed like that. Then again, she’s likely baiting me for a reaction. Oh, she’ll get it. But not now.

  When I’m ready.

  “Tell me what you’ve been up to since I last saw you.” I keep the words soft, but there’s an underlying command.

  Whitney feels it. She stiffens. “Not much to tell that I’m sure you didn’t find out for yourself. I finished high school. Then I attended Stanford and earned my economics degree. I stayed to finish my MBA. I’ve been home a handful of weeks, trying to help Vance unravel this situation. And here I am.”

  I knew all that. She’s intentionally not telling me what I really want to know. Who has she dated? Who else has she kissed? Who fucked her first? Who fucked her last? Who does her goddamn heart belong to?

  Patience, I tell myself, swallowing back all my questions. I will find out.

  “What about you?”

  There’s the subject change again. Why? She can’t possibly believe I’m going to give her anything she can use against me.

  “After the last summer I saw you? I dropped out of college so I could bartend by night and spend my days developing an even more profitable intellectual property.”

  It was the perfect setup for me…almost. Entire days to push myself to create an even better app than the one Vance had stolen from me. Full nights of making money and hooking up with her acquaintances. That disappointed the hell out of my dad. Even my older brother, Quint, lectured me about throwing my future down the toilet. But Whitney was always in the back of my mind, haunting me.

  I had everything to prove.

  “I launched the following year.” To success beyond my dreams, which spawned a massive tech company that now circles the globe.

  “Tell me about your mother.”

  I sigh. It’s the one weakness I’ll show Whitney because, under all the animosity, she’s too human to use my pain against me. “She died four years ago. Breast cancer.”

  That horrible night, I sobbed and held her hand, watching as she took her very last breath. It still fucking hurts every time I think about it.

  Whitney’s face softens. “I’m sorry. I know you two were close.”

  “Yes.”

  And I haven’t been close to anyone since. I’ve tried. My brother and I have a better relationship now. My sisters, Ivy and Lacey, have reached out again and again. But it’s me. Something inside me is dead.

  I’m almost ashamed to admit that getting beyond my grief didn’t cure my toxicity. Probably because my mother wasn’t the cause. The poison is all about Whitney, about the way she stabbed me in the back and left me to bleed out.

  “I understand. I miss my dad,” she murmurs softly.

  “I heard about his car accident. I’m sorry.” I genuinely mean that.

  She’s had a terrible few years, too. Some part of me that still gives a shit about her—no matter how hard I’ve tried not to—empathizes. That part wants to reach out and hold her, soothe her, and tell her I’m here for her.

  The rest of me has learned better.

  “Thank you,” she murmurs.

  Silence falls again, and Whitney clutches her purse like she’s nervous as she downs the last of her drink. Next time she looks at me, she’s glaring. Her shields are up once more. “So now that we’ve caught up and you’ve watched me drink, what do you want?”

  “In exchange for forty million dollars to save your brother’s financial ass?” I smile tightly. “You.”

  She swallows like my words unnerve her, but she doesn’t look surprised in the least. “I’m engaged.”

  “That’s not my problem.”

  Slowly, she closes her eyes. To brace herself? To hide her fury from me?

  Finally, she nods. “What are your terms?”

  “One week.”

  “For me to be your whore?”

  She’s trying to bait me. “You putting an ugly spin on our arrangement isn’t going to make me change my mind.”

  She clenches her delicate jaw. “What do you expect?”

  “I’ll send a car to pick you up at precisely nine o’clock. Bring nothing with you. Anything you need, I’ll provide. When you arrive, the front door will be unlocked. Once inside, you will strip. And you will kneel. Then you will wait for me. You will be completely mine. While you’re with me, you will forget two things: any other man who’s ever fucked you and the word no. You will do anything I desire with, to, or for me during our week together. Am I clear?”

  “You’re a bastard.”

  “That can’t be a surprise.”

  “No.”

  “Are you refusing?”

  Whitney hesitates. “No.”

  Triumph spikes. I lay a twenty on the bar for her drink. “You accept? You’ll get in my car tonight?”

  She looks down at the bar like she’s ashamed. She makes me wait and sweat and worry that she’ll refuse. But we both know she won’t. For her brother’s sake, she can’t.

  “Yes,” she finally whispers.

  I settle a finger under her chin. “Look at me when you answer.”

  “Yes, I’ll come be your forty-million-dollar piece of ass for the week.” With a jerk of her head, she pulls away. “Don’t touch me until then.”

  I smile at her show of spirit. It’s intriguing—but it won’t last. I’ll make sure of that.

  “You have four hours to get yourself in order. After that…” I trail off into a smile.

  Let her imagine the worst.

  I’m sure she thinks I intend to use her horribly and cause her pain. Quite the opposite.

  I’m going to give her so much pleasure she’ll lose her mind.

  And surrender her heart?

  Since I can’t afford to listen to the mocking voice in my head, I shove it aside and slide a burner phone across the bar to her.

  She picks it up, then frowns. “What’s this for?”

  “To contact me in case you choose to back out. If not, at quarter till ten, you will text me to verify your arrival. Make no mistake, Whitney, this device only allows you to call or text me. So don’t bother trying to use it to contact anyone else so you can tell them where to find you for the next week.” I send her a cold smile. “It will be our secret.”

  I toss those words she uttered to me long ago back in her face.

  Predictably, she blanches. “I hate you.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll see you this evening.”

  I force myself to walk away. The rest is up to her. But I’ve dangled the carrot and I’ve cornered her. She’ll come. She’ll submit.

  Then I’ll make her pay.

  Eight years earlier…

  * * *

  Jett

  I shouldn’t put my hands on Whitney Chancellor. Really, I shouldn’t…but the princess is right there, mere feet away by the shimmering pool, wearing a pink bikini and soaking in the sun. Her long, dark waves brush the swells of her pert ass as she sways to the sexy ballad of the summer.

  For fuck’s sake, I need to keep my distance. But how, especially today?

  Tiptoeing across the back patio, I sneak up behind her, cover her eyes, and whisper in her ear, “Happy sixteenth birthday, Whitney.”

  She whirls around and flashes me rosy cheeks and a flirtatious grin. She might still be too young, but nothing about the way I want her is innocent.

  I’m twenty-one. I know better. I shouldn’t make a move on my best friend’s little sister, especially before she’s grown. But during the past two months, she’s been just beyond my reach, wearing next to nothing to combat this heatwave and tossing me come-hither glances. My impatience to have her under me chafes. I’m almost beyond caring what I “should” do.

  It’s bad, like masturbation-in-the-shower-twice-a-day bad. Still, I can’t not wish her a happy birthday, right?

  “Thanks! Is that for me?” Her gaze falls on the fluffy cupcake on the nearby patio table.

  “Of course.” I retrieve the pink-frosting confection and hold it out to her.

  Unlike Whitney, I didn’t grow up with money. Despite having five dollars left to my name, I used half of it to buy her something I hoped would make her happy.

  I watch as she plucks it up. She licks her way through the frosting before taking a delicate bite. “Mmm… So good.”

  I swallow back a groan. It doesn’t matter that I jacked off not an hour ago. I’m harder than ever for her.

  “Thanks for remembering, Jett,” she murmurs.

  I try not to focus on the way her pretty pink tongue peeks out as she licks residual frosting from her plump lips. “Yeah. Sure.”

  “It means a lot to me. I’m pretty sure my brother forgot. Tell me again why you’re friends?”

  Despite knowing she’s teasing me, I’m still tongue-tied. “We’re, um…going into business together.”

  She knows that, dumb shit.

  Whitney smiles. “I remember the spiel. You’ve got the brains, Vance has the connections, and you’re both ambitious as hell. You’ll succeed. How’s it going? Almost done?”

  “Yeah, almost. We’ve logged in a ton of hours, but I’ve nearly finished the coding, and he’s been writing up the business plan and making lists of people to contact. We should be ready to launch before we go back for our senior year. So just a few weeks now…”

  Her smile dims. “I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

  “You will?” She’s always been flirty, but this is the first time she’s stated her feelings outright.

  “Sure.” She backs up and gives me a suddenly nervous, nonchalant shrug. “It will be so much quieter when you and my brother are gone. Who will I nag about hogging the TV late at night while you play Xbox and refuse to share your tequila? Who will play Monopoly with me until four a.m. when I can’t sleep?”

  Maybe that’s true…and maybe she’s saying that in case she thinks I don’t like her that way. But I have—from the moment I met her eight weeks ago, when I first stepped foot onto the Chancellor estate. Everything around here is ornate, too traditional. Stuffy. Perfect.

  Except Whitney. She’s all the beauty, but she’s also a new spring breath of fresh air.

  Vance would have my ass if he knew what I wanted to do to his little sister. He’s protective. But the way she’s looking at me proves her thoughts aren’t a little girl’s. They’re a woman’s.

  “I hope that’s not all you’ll miss about me.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sure going to miss more than that about you.”

  “Yeah?” She bites her lip and sends me a flirty glance through her dark lashes. “If I wanted something for my birthday, would you give it to me?”

  “I’d give you the world if I could afford it.” But I can’t.

  I hate that I wasn’t raised rich, like her. I barely have two nickels to rub together. She deserves better.

  Whitney sets the rest of the cupcake aside and eases closer. She looks nervous as she shakes her head. “I don’t want you to buy me anything. My parents have already given me tons.”

  That’s true, but I admire that she’s not a typical spoiled little rich girl who doesn’t see her good fortune.

  “Then what can I give you, princess?”

  “A kiss.” She looks so earnest. “Please. You’ll be the first.”

  My heart stops as I stare at her tempting mouth. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Whitney.”

  I manage to get the words out, but my protest is weak. How can it be anything else when I want her so badly?

  “Maybe not, but I think you want to. I see the way you look at me.”

  It would be easier to lie and tell her she’s mistaken, but I can’t crush her. “I want to, but Vance…”

  “He has nothing to do with us. In case you hadn’t guessed, I…like you. I just want a kiss.”

  It’s wrong, and I know it, but I thread our fingers together for one simple reason. “I like you, too. I think about you a lot. But you’re underage.”

  “I’m not a child.”

  She’s really not. She’s actually pretty mature. God knows her body has filled out in all the right places, like a full-grown woman’s.

  “You have no idea how badly I want to say yes.”

  A new smile brightens her face. “Really?”

  “Yeah,” I admit roughly as I stare at the three stories of windows that make up the back of the vast house. Vance could be watching us even now. “But we can’t. Not here.”

  I drop Whitney’s hand.

  “Definitely not here,” she agrees. “I’ll be in my room, Jett. Waiting.”

  Then she takes her cupcake and her music and disappears inside. I heave a deep breath as I watch her go, the tiny triangle of fabric revealing more of her ass than it covers.

  God, I want her. I crave her so badly I’m shaking.

  I shouldn’t give in. I should stop myself from even laying a finger on her.

  But she’s giving me the chance to kiss her, be the first man to take her lips. That does something to me. Lights my possessive fire. Makes me want to growl that she’s mine.

  It’s wrong and it’s dangerous and I should have my fucking head examined. Knowing the feel of her will only make my lust burn a million times hotter.

  But I don’t care. I’m going to do it.

  I’m going to kiss Whitney Chancellor.

  Dragging in a breath, I push my way into the house and look around. It’s empty. Her dad is at work. Her mom is out getting stuff for Whitney’s party tonight. Vance is in the study, on a conference call.

  It’s now or never.

  Resolution firing up my veins, I march upstairs. Whitney’s door is cracked. I see her pacing.

  I ease in, heart pounding, and shut the door behind me.

  She stops and blinks up, meeting my stare. “Jett?”

  Am I going to kiss her? That’s the subtext of her question.

  I nod and stalk across the room, every move clipped. As if I need to leave all my doubts behind. As if I can’t reach her fast enough.

  Finally, I cup her cheek and slide against her body. My free hand palms her nape. Willingly, she tilts her head and meets my stare. It’s not merely that she’s looking at me, but the way she’s doing it, like she’s completely open to me.

  Like she’s completely mine.

  “Whitney…”

  There’s nothing else to say when the candy lips I want are so sweetly parted just inches under my own.

  I bend to her, dragging my thumb across her so-soft cheek, and watch her wide hazel eyes slide shut.

  Fuck, this is surreal. But it’s the best dream imaginable. Princess Whitney wants me, and all I have to do to please her is take her mouth with my own.

  Yes…

  Finally, I touch my lips to hers. I hear her little indrawn breath. She tenses against me, fingers digging into my shoulders. But the way she’s wriggling to get closer tells me she’s every bit as nervous and eager as I am.

  This means something to her. Every bit as much as it means to me?

  I sink into the kiss. She puckers, and it’s sweetly unpracticed. I regroup and redouble my effort until she’s less hesitant. Then I nudge her lips apart. She offers no resistance, shyly softening and conforming herself to me.

  Need and impatience claw at my restraint. I’m slipping.

  A groan tears free when I slide inside Whitney’s mouth. She welcomes me. And she’s like sugar on my tongue. I clutch her tighter as I deepen the kiss.

  She’s with me, pucker for pucker, tongues stroking, lips clinging, breaths harsh.

  Suddenly, she’s sinking onto her bed. I follow her down, wholly unwilling to stop kissing her, especially when her body is under mine, we’re alone, and she’s so obviously consenting.

  As if my hands have a mind of their own, my palms wander her curves, skating the valley of her waist, cupping her hips, clutching her thighs. Then her legs are around me. I’m pressing my unflagging erection against her damp bikini bottoms, and our bodies are moving together as one.

  Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hot.

  Whitney gropes until she circles my wrist, then lifts my hand.

  Suddenly, I’m cradling the tender weight of her breast in my palm. I groan. The subversive part of me needs to know just how aroused she is, so I thumb her nipple.

  She breaks our kiss to toss her head back and cries my name. “Jett…”

  “Oh, princess. You feel amazing.” I squeeze her mound and close my eyes, letting go for this one moment. I haven’t done anything irrevocable to her. I can stop any time.

  Right?

  Under me, she shimmies and rocks. Pleasure jolts me with every move. The minute I realize we’re going through all the motions of sex with our clothes on is also the moment my hand seems to get its own ideas and shoves aside the little scrap of pink covering her breast. My mouth gets on the bandwagon and sucks the pretty dark nipple I just exposed, tonguing it until her back arches and her whimpers fill my head.