The distant Alps wore a crown of snow, and the fir trees stood like soldiers on parade. But inside, the air was thick with tension and chaos.

Simone Brooks rolled out of bed, snatched the slip dress off the floor, and slipped it on. She padded to an old wooden table and plucked a cigarette from the man's pack, turning it over in her fingers. "This stash any good?"

The man's voice came out like velvet, huskier than usual, and all the more seductive. "Why don't you try and see?"

Simone hesitated, then shook her head.

He lay on his side, propping his head in one hand, a towel wrapped low on his waist and his toned body on display. His brows lifted with lazy arrogance. "Scared?"

Simone nodded, placing the cigarette back. "Terrified I'd get hooked. Cigarettes aren't cheap."

He gave a low, mocking chuckle. "Weren't you scared of getting hooked on me?"

Simone chewed on the thought for a beat, then grinned. "I was. But you don't cost a thing."

The man held his easy posture, but his smile slowly faded, replaced by a probing look that carried a quiet edge. "You've got a lot of nerve playing games with me, Simone."

A knot of anxiety twisted in her gut, laced with guilt—he was Houston Martinez, her fiancé Phoenix Robinson's uncle after all.

Phoenix...

Her smile vanished, and a rare seriousness settled over her face. "Let me ask you something. You knew all along that Phoenix and his mom aren't actually blood-related?"

Houston seemed to have seen the question coming. His expression didn't flicker. "Of course. I'm a Martinez. She's a Miller."

In the suffocating silence that followed, Simone's voice came quiet. "I always thought they were mother and son, but I walked in on them..."

Just the memory brought tears to her eyes, but she battled them back in front of Houston, nothing but a sniff escaping. "Please don't tell me you think it's normal for Phoenix to be making out and sleeping with a woman old enough to be his mother. Stepmother or not."

Houston didn't answer right away. After a pause, he asked, "Is that why you came to see me?"

Simone neither denied nor confirmed it, sidestepping the question entirely. "Just answer me first."

Impatience sharpened her tone. She was hungry for an explanation from Houston, but he clearly had no interest in feeding her. "I'm just his uncle. His business is none of mine, and I don't give a damn. As for who he sleeps with, everybody's got their kinks. Don't you have a thing for older guys yourself?"

The implication was obvious: if Phoenix had a thing for older women, that was nothing out of the ordinary.

Simone let out a defeated sigh, her shoulders slumping. But she pulled herself together quickly, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes. "I'm not into younger guys. I'm into you."

"Hah." Houston had zero desire to waste time on someone irrelevant. Unfazed, he delivered a clean dismissal. "Take my car for a spin. Catch the morning flight back. Leave the car at the airport—I'll have someone pick it up."

Simone's face tightened. "You're kicking me out?"

Houston raised a brow, unbothered. "Got a problem with that? This isn't where you belong, and I'm not some plaything you can toy with."

His voice was low and commanding, laced with a threat that sent a shiver rippling down her spine despite the calm delivery.

"Why didn't you say all that before we hooked up? Now you're just being an ass." Her voice dropped to a mutter on the last two words, but he caught them all the same.

His hand shot out, gripping her chin and forcing her gaze up. "Don't use me as your revenge tool. Or else."

Just the narrowing of his eyes made her tremble involuntarily.

"Or else what?"

A cold laugh. "Try it and find out."

Simone Brooks decided to take a leap of faith. She’d come all this way to be with Houston Martinez—what was another night or two? For the first time in her life, she’d felt a rush of pure, intoxicating bliss. A secret part of her couldn’t help but feel relieved that Phoenix Robinson hadn’t been her first.

Gathering every ounce of courage, she rose onto her tiptoes and looped her arms around Houston’s neck, her whisper fierce and certain against his lips. “I’m not afraid.”

After all, she’d already wasted seven precious years on the wrong guy, and youth doesn’t wait around.

The hours that followed blurred into something long and raw and electric…

When Simone finally drifted off, her lashes were still wet with tears.

Houston reached for a cigarette, only to find the pack crushed and useless in Simone’s small fist. He studied the delicate woman sleeping soundly beside him, his gaze darkening, turning thoughtful.

The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

His phone buzzed nonstop—over twenty missed calls and a string of texts.

*Uncle, Simone freaked out and ran off to Dublin. I’m worried sick. Since you’re there too, can you look out for her? Here’s her info…*

Without missing a beat, Houston arched an eyebrow, saved the number, and typed back, *Don’t worry. I’ve got this.*

As he scrolled through the rest of the messages, his thumb froze on the earliest one. After a heartbeat of hesitation, he killed his phone, pulled on his clothes, and stepped out into the howling storm.

---

Simone was ripped from sleep by Phoenix’s call.

Groggy and half-aware, she picked up, hearing him fire off questions about her room number. On impulse, she gave it to him—then bolt upright as reality sucker-punched her.

Crap. Her room was actually *across* the hall. She was in Houston’s.

The ding of an elevator echoed through the phone. She exploded out of bed, snatching at her clothes, but her underwear was nowhere to be found. With zero time to waste, she yanked on a slip dress, threw a coat over it, and bolted outside.

Just as she clicked Houston’s door shut and turned toward her own, she realized she’d left her key card inside—right as Phoenix appeared at the end of the corridor.

The moment he spotted her, he broke into a jog, abandoning his suitcase to wrap her in a suffocating hug. “I’m so sorry, babe. A work emergency blew up yesterday—I couldn’t get here sooner. I swear, I’ll never let you down like that again.”

Simone stared at the window at the far end of the hallway, her face carefully blank.

He still thought she was just pissed about him being too attached to his mother.

Phoenix eased back, glancing up at the room number above her head. “This is yours, right? Let’s head in first. I’ll drop my suitcase and we can grab some food. I set up a meet with my uncle.”

Simone blinked, her stomach knotting as she pointed toward the door. “I… I left my card inside.”

Phoenix chuckled, tapping her nose with a playful finger. “Still so scatterbrained. No biggie—we’ll leave my suitcase at the front desk and head out.”

Simone’s pulse hammered. The absolute last thing she wanted was to face Houston without underwear on.

But Phoenix didn’t give her a second to argue, guiding her downstairs like they’d planned it all along.

Luckily, the restaurant wasn’t far, and during the short drive, Phoenix noticed nothing off about her.

By the time they arrived, the private dining room was already packed.

Simone’s mouth went dry at the scene.

She leaned close to Phoenix, barely breathing the words. “I thought it was just us and your uncle. Why are there so many people?”

Phoenix shot her a reassuring grin. “Don’t stress. They’re all my uncle’s coworkers. He’s retiring and moving out to the countryside—his buddies are throwing him a farewell bash. We just happened to catch it, so we’re tagging along.”

Simone Brooks stood stiffly beside Phoenix Robinson, forcing a composed smile as she faced a table full of unfamiliar men who all seemed to be sizing her up. A prickle of discomfort crawled right up her spine.

"Hey, Phoenix, Simone's here! Come on, sit. We've been waiting on you guys," called a sharp-featured young man, about Phoenix's age.

Simone recognized him instantly. Drew Hawthorne had been Phoenix's college buddy. They'd made plans to move out here together after graduation, but Phoenix bailed at the last minute, and Drew went it alone—reportedly crushing it.

Drew steered them to their seats, and as Simone swept her gaze around the room, she locked eyes with a pair of icy dark ones. The man lifted an eyebrow slightly before looking away, like she wasn't worth the stare.

Phoenix apologized to the table, "Sorry we're late. Got stuck on the road. I'll grab three coffees later to make it up."

Everyone chuckled, waving it off like no big deal.

Drew pulled out a chair for Simone and, glancing at her outfit, asked, "Simone, you cold? Need a blanket or something?"

She waved a hand. "No thanks, I'm good."

A strange, prickling weight settled on her, and she flicked a glance at Houston Martinez just as he lifted his mug, his gaze sliding away from her legs. He took a slow, casual sip of his coffee. Wrapped in her coat, most people probably wouldn't have noticed, but Houston definitely knew—she was wearing the exact same thing she'd worn when she knocked on his hotel room door last night.

A hot wave of mortification washed over Simone.

Once seated, she realized Houston was right next to her; that crisp, masculine scent mixed with the faint smoke of his rare-brand cigars drifted over, dragging back memories she'd rather not have pop up here.

Drew poured Phoenix a drink and ribbed him, "Early flight, but you roll in late. Did you sneak in some alone time with Simone or what?"

Phoenix's eyes darted uneasily. "What're you talking about? Our luggage took forever, and traffic was a beast. We haven't seen each other in ages, but I can get sweet with my girlfriend anytime. Why make a fuss?"

"For real?" Drew's face was all exaggerated disbelief. "You both look like you lost a fight. Especially Simone—she looked like she's struggling to walk straight."

Phoenix turned to check out Simone's legs at that, and she tugged her coat tighter, smiling a little too brightly. "Yeah, it's a bit chilly."

Simone's nerves were cut short when someone across the table pulled Phoenix's attention away. "You two are cracking everybody up. One looks completely wrecked, and the other just plain frustrated."

It was obvious the first dig was playing off Drew's jab at Phoenix, while the second was aimed dead at Houston. Every eye swiveled to Houston, who stayed stone-faced, calmly tipping back his coffee.

Phoenix laughed, shooting Houston a look. "My uncle here has been 'unsatisfied' since forever. I've never seen him with a woman. If any of you know some killer single ladies, hook him up. The family's been on his case hard."

"Hey, Houston, sounds like your nephew doesn't know you at all. Tell him about your conquests—your list of women is taller than the Alps," another friend joked.

Houston didn't flinch. He replied flatly between sips, "Is there no food here to keep your mouth busy?"

Simone bit her lip to hold back a laugh, some of the tension in her shoulders loosening.

"But seriously," some other guy added, "last night, I heard a woman in your room, Houston. She was loud, too. I thought I was dreaming some wild crap. It went on from maybe nine till two or three in the morning before it got quiet. Made the night feel like a year."

Simone's head dipped lower. Nine o'clock was exactly when she'd walked into Houston's room.