A Tainted Proposal (Merged #4)

Chapter 1

Xander

The black dress clings to her like a secret, elegant and dangerous in equal measures. Every curve it reveals is a temptation—and yet, there’s nothing overt about the way she carries herself.

Present.

Unbothered.

Unreachable.

“I wondered why you invited her.” Cal, my friend and partner at Merged, a company I co-own, elbows me.

It’s not a question; it’s a statement, like he has some inside knowledge I don’t really care about.

“Enlighten me.” I glare at him, annoyed by the interruption. Grateful for it at the same time, because what the fuck am I doing?

“She’s not interested.” He chuckles. “I know that is a tough pill to swallow, but remember, she’s my wife’s best friend.”

“She came with me.” I shrug. Though I know she accepted my invitation because her best friends are here, including Cal’s wife, Celeste.

She didn’t say yes because I invited her. It’s not exactly a rejection, but it still feels like one, especially since Cal is right, and she is so obviously not interested in me.

She’s just happy to be out. Her lack of interest probably got me to invite her to this gala.

She is here with me, but she doesn’t see me. Not really. Not the way most women do.

She’s completely immune. It makes me feel… something. I love that about her. And I hate that I do.

Because it means I’ll have to win her attention. And I always win.

I should be working the room, though.

Shaking hands. Making deals. Nurturing connections to strengthen the empire I’m building. This room is a chessboard of opportunity—and I’m the kind of man who plays to win.

She laughs. Enjoys herself with abandon. Cora Winslow is a woman who doesn’t perform for anyone. She simply is. And that presence? It’s compelling. It’s real.

So fucking real, I almost can’t believe it.

No one in my life is this genuine.

I’m not a romantic. I don’t seek relationships, but I would wine and dine this woman just to catch some of that uncensored freedom from her by association.

I leave Cal and approach her with her friends.

Her laugh—low, unrestrained, utterly unself-conscious—punches me square in the solar plexus. I’ve heard women laugh like they’re performing joy. Hers? It wraps around me before I can decide if I want to chase it or drown in it.

“May I have this dance?” I wink, and Cora narrows her eyes.

She gives her drink to Celeste and straightens up. “Okay, Stone, you got me to this glamorous event; the least I can do is accept. Let’s dance.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dancing.” Celeste smirks at me.

We get to the dance floor and… well, dance.

Cora glides across the floor, luminous and completely present, as if the world exists for no other reason than this moment.

There’s no calculation in her smile. No desperation in her eyes. No hidden agenda. No points to score.

And fuck, I can’t look away.

Though even having her in my arms as I lead her to the tune, she seems unattainable, and for the first time in my life, I’m lost for words.

Or let’s have a dose of honesty here. Everything Cora Winslow is a mystery to me. I first met her at Cal and Celeste’s vow renewal. When Cal had introduced me to this woman, she nodded in passing.

Like I was just another person in the line. Mystery number one.

Okay, it might be my over-inflated ego, but that one stung. And increased my interest greatly.

Mystery number two: why did I invite her tonight as my plus one? To marvel at another rejection?

Because, let’s face it…

Yeah, I definitely want her attention. Not very convenient. Because mystery number three: why don’t I know how to handle her? How to talk to her? She is so different from other women.

And after playing the field for years, I don’t know how to behave around a woman when she is not swooning over me because of my sheer presence. Humble pie, anyone?

“How is work?” Yeah, I fucking just asked that.

She groans. “Don’t spoil the night, Stone. I haven’t been out in ages.”

A curl breaks loose from her bun. She doesn’t apologize and run to the ladies’ room to fix her appearance; she just goes with the little imperfection, mindlessly swatting it away.

“Why not?” I step back and twirl her around.

“I don’t have time. I run a bistro, a family business, and it’s been hard lately.” She gives out a self-deprecating giggle. “Or always.”

She lowers her hand back to my shoulder, and I want her to keep it there longer. Luckily, the music slows down, and I finally get to hold her closer. The moment stills, and she smiles at me.

It’s a smile of contentment, and a little mischief. I want to drown in it.

“The harder work gets, the more you need to unwind,” I say.

Her lower back is warm under my palm, and I fight the urge to slide it lower.

That is another mystery. I actually fight the urge, because I don’t want her to turn around and leave. And I think she would… As I said, Cora Winslow is like a carefully administered portion of humble pie.

I never cared for the taste. And yet, here we are.

“Yeah, that is an excellent theory. My unwind time, however, usually leads me to my bed where I sleep, for way too little time, before I have to return to work.”

“Do you plan on expanding your business?”

She frowns. “What kind of a question is that?”

I’m not quite sure what is wrong with the question, or my conclusion that she works so hard because she’s growing her business.

Tonight, my conversation game is off. Derailed by the way she owns the dance floor—not with the practiced elegance of a debutante who spent months perfecting her waltz, nor with effortless, balletic grace.

She moves with something rarer: warmth, quiet confidence, and that grounded, magnetic kind of joy that radiates from people who have nothing to prove.

Simple.

Certain.

Untouched.

By expectations. By judgmental stares. By the salacious gazes of half the men in the room.

Side note: I’m going to murder someone tonight. She came with me, assholes.

My partner, Cormac Quinn, the CEO of Merged, which I co-own with him, is glaring at me while he talks to the mayor. His wife and Cora’s friend, Saar, smiles and nods beside him, playing the business game she might hate but indulges for him.

I ignore Corm’s glare and my obligations and twirl Cora around.

At the bar, Declan, the fourth partner, is whispering something to his nanny—I’m not sure what the story is there.

I guess Corm might be the only one working tonight. Normally, I would be too.

“Don’t you usually talk about your business with men?” I tease her, to cover the uncomfortable feeling of being lost. I’m never fucking lost.

“Is that what you talk about with women?” She snorts. At least she is entertained.

She will not unsettle me. Keep lying to yourself, fucker. “Well, I don’t really care much about the conversation part,” I lower my voice.

“Obviously.” She laughs again. “I appreciate you putting in the effort, but you don’t have to. This is not a date.”

“I’m clearly failing in my efforts.”

“I’m guessing that’s not something you encounter often.”

I’m hyper-aware of the curve of her hip swaying under my touch. “You’d be correct, but I appreciate a worthy opponent.”

“I’m not playing your game, Xander. Besides, don’t you need to schmooze?” She licks her lips—not seductively; she just wets them, and my entire body—okay, my cock—reacts.

“I’d rather dance with you.”

“Doesn’t it defy the purpose?”

“Of being here?” I frown.

“Of taking me to the gala? Why else would you have invited me?”

Yeah, I’m asking the same question. “Aren’t you having fun?”

And can I sound any more desperate? What the fuck is wrong with me?

“I’m having fun, but let’s not pretend you’re here to be with me. I’m here as a friend of your partners’ spouses. To free your time, so you can do whatever networking you men come to these things for. You don’t need to entertain me.”

She got that right. Partially. I usually work at these events. I bring one of my hookups, and it generally ends up with them complaining they were bored while I worked the room.

But if I had wanted to avoid that, I could have brought our office manager, Roxy.

So yeah, Cora is right. Partially. Because I didn’t bring Roxy.

“What if I wanted to spend the evening with you?”

She snorts. “Yeah, right.”

What the actual fuck? It’s like we are each on a different planet. I’m trying and failing miserably to grab her attention. And she? What? She didn’t notice I’m game?

I’ve never worked hard to get something. Things come easily to me. Women included. So this is new, but also confusing. I don’t get confused.

“I’m having fun, Cora.” I go with the truth.

She halts and looks at me with a whisper of suspicion. “Please don’t continue in this direction.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s ridiculous.” She resumes moving her legs, and we stumble back into dancing.

“I disagree. You’re hot. I’m hot. You’re available. I’m available. There is chemistry. I’m considered a catch.”

She laughs—not just laughs—she throws her head back, having a genuinely joyful moment.

I would want to bottle that sound and carry it with me if it weren’t at my expense. Fuck, I would probably want to patent it and put it in a vault, so that no one else could enjoy it.

“And he is humble, ladies and gentlemen.” She pats my shoulder.

“You’re not even a little interested?” Desperate, perhaps, but also realistic.

I can take a rejection.

No, I can’t, but let’s pretend.

She tilts her head to the side and smiles at me. It’s a curious smile, like she is trying to figure me out while feeling sorry for me. That is a first for me.

Fuck, it’s like I’m losing my virginity to this woman. And not in a gentle, romantic, movie way.

She doesn’t respond the way I’m used to, but fuck, do I enjoy the challenge.

“You’re charming, I’ll give you that.”

“So what’s the problem?” The music stops, and I lead her to the bar.

“Just because I can have something doesn’t mean I want it.”

Just because I can have something doesn’t mean I want it.