Chapter 1
one
. . .
Meghan
One year later…
“Are you even listening?” My mother’s sharp voice cut through my gin-induced haze. I blinked, refocusing on her pinched expression as I took another sip of my martini.
Across the table, Veronica Sinclair examined her impeccable red nails. Her gaze slid to mine, one arched brow raised in silent judgment. Of course she was listening—that was Veronica’s special talent, retaining every incriminating detail while feigning complete indifference.
“Of course I am, Mother.” I batted my lashes, the picture of an obedient daughter.
Mom’s eyes narrowed to slits. Her gaze flickered to my empty glass, and I could practically see the icy gears turning behind her meticulously made-up mask. “Meghan, darling, I’m sure you’re aware of how important this event is,” she said in that sugary tone that meant danger. “We simply cannot afford any...unforeseen errors.”
The veiled criticism stung like a bitch slap. My cheeks heated, and I opened my mouth to defend myself when Veronica cut in.
“Laura, I think our girl understands the stakes.” She draped one arm over the back of her chair and shot me a condescending smile. “Don’t you, Meghan?”
I nodded, forcing a grin. “Absolutely. I’ll ensure every detail is perfect, as always.” I let an edge slip into my tone, reminding my mother that I wasn’t some clueless bimbo.
Mom’s harsh expression softened into regal satisfaction. “Very good. Speaking of important details, I’ve arranged a dinner for you tonight. With Brayden Montgomery.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Of course. Brayden Montgomery—as dull as his name suggested, with the personality of a rice cake. The latest gambit in my mother’s never-ending quest to marry me off to the most mind-numbingly boring member of the Columbus social scene.
“Mother, I really don’t need you to?—”
“Nonsense. You’re not getting any younger, and Brayden comes from an excellent family.”
I clenched my jaw, struggling against the childish urge to cry or scream or both. Wasn’t I enough as I was? Why did she always have to make me feel so...deficient?
I bit back a retort, knowing it would only lead to another argument. Sensing my surrender, Mom’s lips pursed, and she nodded curtly.
“Six o’clock at Hyde Park. Do not be late.”
As soon as our meeting ended, I grabbed Veronica’s arm. “Cocktails. Now.”
Her dark eyes sparkled with amusement. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Ten minutes later, we settled into a booth at our favorite bar, the scent of aged oak and citrus mingling in the air. I took a long, greedy sip of my second martini, savoring the burn as it slid down my throat.
“So, Brayden Montgomery.” Veronica’s eyes glinted like shards of obsidian. “Your mother certainly has...interesting taste.”
I groaned against the rim of my glass. “Or no taste at all. He’s so dull, V. I don’t know how I’m going to survive this date.”
Veronica patted my hand. “Just smile and nod, and think of all the things you’d rather be doing.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Or who you’d rather be doing.”
An image of Marco flashed through my mind—his glossy dark hair, his full lips, the scorching intensity of his gaze. A warm flush crept up my neck.
Veronica’s lips curved into a knowing smirk. “How are things with your Italian Stallion?”
“Shh!” I glanced around the bar, scrutinizing the other patrons like a sniper scanning for threats. “We’re keeping it on the down low, remember?”
She rolled her eyes. “Right, right. Wouldn’t want to upset the delicate sensibilities of the pearl-clutching elite.”
“It’s not that simple. You know how my mother is.” I swirled the dregs of my drink, watching the olive thud against the sides of the glass.
“Screw her,” Veronica said. “It’s your life. You should be with whoever makes you happy. Society be damned.”
If only it were that easy. The weight of my family name and my mother’s biting disapproval were like invisible anchors shackling me to the path she’d laid out. A path of vapid society functions and dates picked for their pedigree rather than any kind of genuine connection.
I glanced at my watch and sighed. “I need to get going. Wish me luck.”
She saluted me with her glass. “Go get ‘em, tiger. And if it’s truly awful, just text your boy toy to come rescue you.”
A startled laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. Trust Veronica to spin even this mortifying situation into something devious. Maybe that’s why I kept her around—that and the fact that she was undoubtedly the most entertaining drinking companion in Columbus.
I slid out of the booth, smoothing my palms over the sleek fabric of my sheath dress. Squaring my shoulders, I schooled my features into a breezy smile.
Time to play my part.
Brayden Montgomery was every bit as boring as I remembered. He was a Ken doll come to life, all stiff smiles and vacant eyes. His words floated over my head as he expounded on some excruciatingly dull investment topic. Earnest yet utterly devoid of personality; a talking action figure who’d learned to parrot financial jargon.
I prodded the wilted arugula on my plate, my mind wandering. The dim candlelight cast fluttering shadows across the pristine white tablecloth, lending an air of romance this painfully awkward encounter didn’t deserve.
“...which is why I decided to shift more funds into the tech sector,” Brayden said, breaking through the fuzz in my head.
I nodded, smiling politely. My attention drifted to the couple beside us, their bodies angled inward, knees grazing beneath the table as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Intimacy hung in the air like a tangible presence, and a pang of longing twisted in my chest. When was the last time I had that kind of connection with someone?
My phone buzzed against the table. I glanced down, a smile tugging at my lips.
MARCO
You haven’t died of boredom yet, have you?
I stifled a snort as I typed back one-handed beneath the table.
MEGHAN
I’m hanging in there. Barely.
MARCO
Want me to stage a daring rescue? *winking face*
Warmth bloomed in my chest. God, how did he always know exactly what I needed?
“Meghan? Is everything all right?”
I jolted, knee banging against the table and sending our place settings rattling. Brayden’s brow furrowed, and I pocketed my phone, cheeks flushing.
“Yes, of course. Sorry, I was just checking on a work matter.” The lie slid easily from my lips—another skill I’d honed to an art form.
He seemed to accept my excuse with a nod, launching into another mind-numbing monologue about asset portfolios or interest rates or whatever the hell else.
My thoughts reverted back to Marco.
I pictured his roguish grin, the wicked gleam in his whisky-colored eyes. The memory of his hands skimming over my bare skin made me shiver. How different this evening would be if he were here instead of Bland Brayden...
My phone vibrated again.
MARCO
I’m serious, babe. Give me a time and place, and I’ll whisk you away to something much more...interesting.
MEGHAN
Don’t tempt me.
MARCO
But that’s my favorite pastime.
I bit my lip. A shameless part of me wanted nothing more than to take him up on his offer and leave this snooze-fest behind. But I couldn’t. I had responsibilities. Appearances to maintain.
And so the night wore on, a delicate dance of feigned interest and faux smiles as I choked down another obligatory course. All the while, I found myself increasingly distracted by the thought of Marco, poised to sweep me away from this soul-crushing charade and into his sweet, sinful embrace.
Fuck it.
Marco
The buzz of my phone was a welcome distraction from the droning voices around me. I slipped it out under the table.
MEGHAN
I can’t take it anymore. Save me, please?
I could practically hear the desperation in her words, picture the adorable pout on her plush lips. My pulse quickened at the thought of spiriting her away, losing myself in her sweet kisses and soft curves.
Damn. I have it bad.
I typed back a quick reply, already plotting my escape.
MARCO
On my way, babe. Sit tight.
I glanced up, catching my father’s disapproving glare from across the table. The rest of the execs were still deep in discussion, tossing around buzzwords like “synergy” and “market penetration.”
This wasn’t the life I wanted. Sitting in stuffy meetings, kissing ass and playing politics. I had dreams, passions. Things that had nothing to do with the bottom line.
But try telling that to Antonio Rossi. To him, there was only one path—join the family business, climb the corporate ladder, take over the empire he’d built from nothing. Very simple. No compromise.
I pushed back my chair, the scrape of wood on marble drawing every eye. “Gentlemen, I hate to cut this riveting discussion short, but I have a prior engagement I need to attend to.”
My father’s brows drew together. “Marco. A word?”
I suppressed a sigh and followed him out into the hall. As soon as the door clicked shut behind us, he rounded on me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? We’re in the middle of a critical client dinner.”
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance even as my gut clenched. “Something came up. I need to go.”
“Let me guess. Another one of your little trysts? Some skirt batting her lashes, and you go running, is that it?”
Anger boiled in my chest. I clenched my fists, fighting to keep my tone even. “My personal life is none of your business.”
“I’m your father. Of course it’s my business. Especially when it interferes with your responsibilities at work.” He jabbed a finger at my face. “I’ve given you every opportunity, Marco. The best education, a place in this company. And this is how you repay me? Blowing off meetings to chase tail?”
I barked out a laugh. “Right. Because nothing says ‘opportunity’ like being shoved into a box and told to stay put.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Watch your tone, kid. I won’t tolerate disrespect.”
“Disrespect? That’s rich, coming from you. When’s the last time you showed an ounce of respect for anyone’s opinion but your own? When’s the last time you promoted a woman into leadership or green-lit a campaign that wasn’t the same tired old formula?”
I was treading dangerous ground. But I was so damn tired of biting my tongue and pretending to be someone I wasn’t.
“I won’t be lectured on how to run my business by an insolent child.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I won’t be sticking around to lecture you.” I turned on my heel, striding toward the elevators.
“Marco! We’re not finished here!”
“Sorry, Pops. Like I said, I’ve got someone waiting for me.”
The doors slid shut on his outraged expression, and I sagged back against the mirrored wall. Christ, that was going to come back to bite me in the ass. But I couldn’t bring myself to care.