CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

~ Stephano

He walked in like a fucking storm cloud in a tux.

Stephano Maddens. Broad-shouldered, smug-mouthed, wet-haired, sin-stained bastard of a man.

The second I saw him across the ballroom, I knew I was in trouble.

My heart didn’t beat. It slammed. My body didn’t freeze. It short-circuited. And the worst part? I felt it, between my legs, low in my belly, a flutter, a pulse, that sick, shameful heat I thought I’d buried weeks ago.

No.

No, no, no.

Not again. Not this time.

I looked away like I hadn’t noticed. Like I didn’t care. Like I hadn’t once dropped to my knees in his office,...