Starlight Club.

With a slight buzz from the cocktails, Skye Montgomery kept staring at the scandalous photos Alexia Richards had sent her—shots of Alexia wrapped up with Skye’s fiancé, Walker Ryan. A bitter smile tugged at her lips.

Finally, she made up her mind. She rose to her feet, squared her shoulders, and walked straight toward the man who stood out from the crowd not far away.

Just as she was about to pass him, Skye faked a stumble, letting herself fall right into his arms.

“Can you take me away from here?”

She looped her arms around his neck, her eyes locking onto his almost impossibly handsome face as she spoke in a soft, breathy voice.

The man glanced down, taking in her fair skin and the curves pressed against him. Something unreadable flickered deep in his gaze. “Do you know who I am?”

Hearing Trace Ryan’s deep, husky voice sent a shiver racing down Skye’s spine.

Oh my God.

How could a voice be that ridiculously sexy? Her heart stumbled, and her ears practically melted.

“Of course I know who you are. You’re Trace Ryan. Walker’s uncle.”

She fluttered her eyes, her delicate face flushed with the rosy glow of alcohol, a crescent smile curving her lips. Her voice came out soft, as sweet and vulnerable as a kitten’s.

Trace’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

Then, in one swift motion, he tilted her chin up with his fingers, his gaze flickering with something dangerously sharp—like it could cut right through her. “Should I take this as you deliberately trying to seduce me?”

Throwing caution to the wind, Skye clung to his neck and pouted. “That’s right. I’m seducing you. So are you going to let me or not?”

She was beautiful—but her voice was even more dangerous. Especially when she played coy like this, she could pull anyone in without them even realizing it.

Trace studied her fine features, and out of nowhere, an image of her flirting with Walker flashed through his mind. His eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you afraid Walker will find out?”

The name stung Skye’s heart, but she shrugged it off like it was nothing. “He ended up in my best friend’s bed. I’ve already tossed him aside.”

As she spoke, she leaned further into him, her perfume curling around his senses and lighting up every nerve ending.

A beat later, Trace let out a low chuckle. “So you’re using me to get back at him? Aren’t you scared of provoking me?”

Skye lifted her eyes to his, catching the teardrop-shaped mole at the corner of his eye and the icy coldness buried in his gaze. Her heart started hammering for no reason she could name.

This man wasn’t just Walker’s uncle—he was a full-blown force in the business world.

In just two years, Trace had taken the nearly bankrupt Ryan Corporation and turned it into an empire. He was the infamous Trace Ryan—the one person in this whole city no one dared to cross.

Skye pulled in a deep breath, her light buzz giving her a reckless kind of courage. She pressed her lips to his. “I’m not scared.”

What did she even have left to be afraid of?

A year ago, her father, Jonathan Montgomery, had been locked up on a murder charge, and the Montgomery family had gone bankrupt. Once the city’s most celebrated socialite, she’d become everyone’s favorite joke.

Even her newly married sister got treated like dirt by her in-laws.

And now—cheated on by her fiancé and her best friend, both at once? What else was there to fear?

Besides, Trace Ryan was ridiculously gorgeous. Easily a hundred times hotter than her ex-fiancé, Walker Ryan.

That was a win, not a loss.

Trace suddenly leaned in, his eyes deep as ancient pools, boring straight into hers. “I want to sleep with you. Does that still not scare you?”

Skye’s heart suddenly skipped a beat.

She shifted closer to Trace, playfully nibbling his earlobe as she flipped the script: “Trace Ryan, you know I’m here to seduce you—doesn’t that scare you a bit?”

Trace hadn’t seen that coming. He let out a low chuckle. “Why don’t you tell me?”

His voice was rich, captivating—a magnetic pull she couldn’t deny.

Skye’s lashes fluttered as she teased, “I have a feeling you might actually enjoy my company.”

“With someone as enchanting as you, it’s nearly impossible for any man not to,” Trace raised an eyebrow, his gaze cutting right through her. “Unless...”

“Unless Walker’s not a real man!”

Skye playfully angled her head toward his lips, but in the blink of an eye, Trace cradled the back of her head and leaned down, claiming her soft, ruby lips in a passionate kiss.

Time blurred. Neither of them could say how long it lasted before a gentle voice broke through the haze. “Trace, there you are. Everyone’s waiting for you to grab some coffee.”

The unexpected voice made Trace’s brow furrow.

He turned to face the woman who’d appeared, his dark eyes radiating a chilling intensity. “Is there something you need?”

The woman shivered under his cold gaze but forced a polite smile. “Trace, everyone’s waiting in the lounge, and Damari sent me to check when you’d join us.”

Hearing that familiar voice, Skye turned her head slowly.

A face with perfectly applied makeup came into view.

It was Gabriela Jacobs—her former associate, alongside Alexia, who had often been cruel when Skye was down on her luck.

Judging by Gabriela’s demeanor, she had every intention of winning Trace’s attention too.

But Skye wasn’t about to let Gabriela take Trace from her.

So Skye pressed an alluring kiss to Trace’s throat, then murmured, “Honey, can we go to the hotel now?”

Her voice was soft and tempting, unknowingly stirring a powerful hunger inside Trace.

He wasn’t normally drawn to women. But Skye—she awakened something primal in him.

“Absolutely!”

Trace gazed at her, a fiery intensity blazing in his eyes. Without a glance at Gabriela, he scooped Skye into his arms and walked away as if he owned the world.

...

The next thing Skye knew, Trace was escorting her to the presidential suite.

The moment they stepped inside, he laid her down on the sofa, his fervent kisses swallowing her whole.

Skye felt as though she were drowning in an ocean—her body going weak, her breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps.

A faint, recognizable scent of cologne filled her senses.

Through the haze, Trace’s strong hands were already encircling her slender waist.

A wave of nervousness rose inside her, and she couldn’t help but whisper, “Could we... take a moment?”

Her voice was slightly husky and trembling, yet so incredibly seductive it only ignited Trace’s primal instincts.

He tilted her chin up, trailing tender marks down her neck, his sultry voice murmuring by her ear, “Feeling jittery?”

Skye’s lashes quivered, but summoning her courage, she replied, “I’m... not scared.”

Yet Trace noticed the tension written all over her face.

He paused, gazing deep into her eyes. “You’ve never slept with Walker, have you?”

Skye’s delicate face tightened instantly, her brows knitting together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Did he honestly think she was the kind of girl who just hopped into bed with anyone?

But then last night came rushing back—the boldness, the liquid courage, the way she’d practically thrown herself at Trace Ryan. Yeah, maybe that did look a little reckless. Maybe she deserved the judgment.

Trace studied the woman in his arms, watching her expression flicker through a dozen emotions. His lips curved slightly. “That hard to understand? Let me spell it out for you.”

With that, he dipped his head, trailing a line of kisses down her neck, then lower, along her collarbone.

Skye’s heart slammed against her ribs.

But Walker’s sneer echoed in her head—the taunt that she’d never find a better man than him. And something inside her snapped into place. Defiance, hot and reckless.

She wrapped her arms around Trace’s neck and mirrored his move, pressing her lips to the hollow of his throat. Her whisper brushed his ear. “Trace Ryan, I never slept with Walker. You’re my first.”

Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.

Were her first kisses his too?

The next moment, he lifted her as if she weighed nothing and carried her swiftly to the bedroom.

Trace wasn’t the type to chase women—but he wasn’t a saint either. He wanted her, and she’d offered herself willingly. No way in hell was he letting her go.

Inside the bedroom, clothes hit the floor one by one, the air thickening with heat.

Skye watched him, her tongue darting out to wet her lips without thinking.

His tall frame. His carved muscles. His firm chest.

Ring, ring, ring!

The phone she’d tossed on the nightstand blared, slicing through the haze.

Trace’s dark eyes flashed, a shadow of impatience crossing them.

Skye saw the caller ID—her sister, Mae Carr—and instinctively reached for it. But Trace’s hand got there first, snatching the phone and flinging it to the floor.

His voice curled against her ear, low and smoky. “I don’t like being interrupted.”

“Trace, I—”

His lips swallowed the rest of her words.

Lost in the patient rhythm of his kisses, Skye let herself melt, drifting deeper and deeper until nothing else existed…

An hour later, Trace stepped into the shower, leaving Skye sprawled across the sheets, completely wrecked. Her legs wouldn’t stop trembling.

Reliving the past hour, her cheeks burned.

It hadn’t been the rough encounter she’d braced herself for. Instead, Trace had been careful, almost attentive—reading her every reaction, drawing her to the edge again and again until she shattered blissfully.

The phone on the floor rang again.

Skye pushed herself off the bed, her legs nearly buckling beneath her. Ignoring the ache, she grabbed the phone and saw forty-something missed calls from Mae. Guilt coiled in her chest. How had she not heard it ringing before?

She drew a steadying breath and called back. “Sis? What’s wrong? Why so many calls?”

Her voice came out raspy.

“Skye, where are you?” Mae’s voice shook on the other end. “Please tell me you didn’t actually go to a hotel with some man.”

Skye froze. But she pieced it together quickly—Gabriela. That little snake must have ratted her out just to ruin her night with Trace.

If Skye had answered that first call, none of this would have happened. Exactly what Gabriela wanted.

For a second, Skye actually felt grateful Trace had thrown her phone.

Because tonight? She’d enjoyed every second.

And she didn’t feel used.

Sleeping with Trace Ryan was half the city’s fantasy. She’d done it without even trying. Right?

“Sis,” Skye said, without a moment’s hesitation, “I’m at a hotel with my boyfriend. You don’t need to worry about me.”

As the words left her mouth, Trace stepped out of the bathroom, catching the tail end of the conversation.

From where he stood, he could see her—the delicate curve of her back, the graceful line of her silhouette.

His throat bobbed, his gaze drinking in every detail.

But he refused to spoil her first time by making her feel cheap. So he turned back into the bathroom and stepped under another cold shower.

Mae’s voice cracked over the line. “Skye, you haven’t been with anyone since you broke up with Walker. Why are you lying to me? A girl’s virtue is precious. You’re going to regret this for the rest of your life.”

“I’m sorry, sis.” Skye’s eyes stung, but she kept her voice level. “I have my reasons. And I don’t regret tonight. Whatever happens, I’ll own it.”

After she hung up, Skye realized she was trembling.

She could handle anything except disappointing her family.

She knew Mae didn’t understand, that she was hurt. But Skye had already crossed the line. There was no going back now.

“Here’s a card with five million. You’ll need it.”

His deep voice came from behind her, startling her.

Skye spun around—and there he stood, a towel slung low around his waist, every sharp line of his body highlighted by the soft light.

But her gaze dropped to the card he was holding out, and all the color drained from her face.

It was like a knife to the chest.

She’d thought his tenderness meant something. That she was different. But this? He was trying to pay her off.

Men were all the same, she thought bitterly. This was probably a well-rehearsed act Trace had perfected long before her.

Remembering the real reason she’d come to him in the first place, Skye forced a smile. “Trace, I didn’t come to you for money.”

What she needed was for him to help her dig up evidence that Kash Wagner had framed her father’s company—something that could clear her dad’s name.

“Then what do you want?”

His eyes went cold in an instant.

So she did have an agenda.

Skye caught the mockery flickering in his gaze, but she held it. “Trace, I heard you’re working with Kash Wagner. Could you possibly—”

“No.”

He cut her off, his tone flat and final. “Five million. Not enough?”

Was she going to run off and find another man next?

Skye’s heart faltered. Yeah, she’d been naive.

“If you won’t help me, fine. And as for your money—keep it.” Her voice stayed steady, even though it stung.

She dressed calmly, ignoring his looming presence.

Before she walked out, she pulled a few hundred-dollar bills from her purse and tossed them on the bed. “You were good. Call it a tip.”

Then she lifted her chin and walked out the door, head high—as if her whole world hadn’t just crumbled behind her.