“We were done anyway, so what does it matter?” he says, his tone low, defeated.

“You cut our arrangement short. Not me,” I challenge.

God, that last night we spent together would forever be burned into my brain. The sweet and tender way we made love, the thoughtfulness behind every gesture he made, the hungry look in his eyes when he studied me in the mirror and lavished me with compliments. In four short weeks, he’s come to mean so much to me, and that night we spent together solidified everything.

“You know why I did that,” he growls.

“Enlighten me.”

“You never once considered calling off this whole game, admitting that Kirby wasn’t the man for you.” He pauses and I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. He simply holds me with that icy stare, his look challenging me to disagree.

He’s angry—at me—and the injustice of it inflames me. “It doesn’t matter now. You lied. You lied about everything. You knew who I was the entire time. How can I trust—” I shake my head. “You’re fucking women all over the city of Chicago. None of it matters.”

I see that clearly for the first time. Cursing myself, I realize I should have never given him my heart. I feel like a fool for even considering for one second that we could work.

Hale stares at the floor, looking less and less like the domineering man I thought I knew. Still not meeting my eyes, he says, “I haven’t taken a client since we began seeing each other.”

My heart slams against my ribs as if this moment means everything to me. “You’re telling me there was no one else?”

“Just you,” he whispers.

Tears spring to my eyes. I have to get out of here. “I can’t,” I whisper. “I just can’t.”

Clutching my purse, I let my heels carry me back to the ballroom. I know I owe Kirby an explanation. He was just blindsided, learning that I’ve been sleeping with his roommate.

I spot him immediately. He’s at the same bar where I left him, but it appears he’s switched from beer to something stronger. When I get close, I overhear a conversation that wasn’t meant for my ears.

“No date tonight?” the man next to Kirby asks.

Kirby shakes his head. “No, my date canceled with the flu, so I invited my friend Brie. She’s always free at the last minute.”

Anger and disappointment rush through me, and I stop in my tracks as if I’ve been physically struck. I don’t want to be someone’s second choice. I’ve wasted five years of my life, and it’s suddenly crystal clear—Kirby is never going to see me as more than a friend. And do I even want him to?

Tears spring to my eyes, and I make my way toward the ladies’ room. The last thing I want is for someone to see me cry.

Thankful to find the bathroom empty, I grab a wad of tissue paper just as a sob rips from my throat. I just need to compose myself enough to hail a cab and end this disastrous night. As I sob, I become aware on some level that I’m crying for what will never be with Kirby, and what I can’t have with Hale.

The bathroom door opens and when I glance up to the mirror, I see Hale. He locks the bathroom door behind him. My heart pounds out a steady beat as I watch him move confidently toward me.

I dab my cheeks with the tissue and draw in a deep breath, trying to pull it together.

“Come here,” he whispers and folds me into his arms.

I don’t fight it; I don’t even hesitate. I just go to him, molding myself to his firm chest and letting him hold me. His scent washes over me—a mix of crisp cologne and male warmth—and I’m reminded of all the nights I spent in his arms. At his mercy. Obeying his commands.

A desperate sob escapes me, and I push him away. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Tell me what happened. Why are you in here crying? I figured you’d be in a cab on your way home by now.”

That would have been the smart choice. Instead, I went to find Kirby and ease his mind about my involvement with his roommate.

“You were right about Kirby. He’s a thoughtless asshole and he doesn’t deserve me.”

Hale’s mouth lifts in a sad smile.

“You knew that all along, didn’t you?”

He shrugs. “I had no way of knowing what would happen, but yeah, I had my assumptions.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have listened?”

He’s right. This was something I had to find out for myself.

He steps closer, tilting my chin up to meet his watchful gaze. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head slowly. “No. But I will be.” I’m stronger now than I was before. Even if I don’t feel strong in this moment, I know it’s true.

“Tell me how to fix this.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek, his eyes lingering on mine.

I open my mouth to tell him there’s nothing he can do, when he lowers his mouth and kisses me. Softly at first, but when my tongue meets his, his lips crash into mine, his hands landing on my hips, and he grips me tightly to him. He tastes of scotch and Hale, and it’s only been a handful of days, but God, how I missed him.

My attraction to this man is off the charts. I’m angry at him for concealing his identity all this time, and I know he doesn’t want to pursue anything real, but I can’t deny my body’s response.

He presses his hips closer, and I feel his huge cock hardening under his tuxedo slacks.