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.

Skye walked out of the hotel without a second glance. Trace Ryan watched her retreating figure, then let his gaze drift to the hundred-dollar bills scattered across the bed. The look in his eyes was unreadable—part curiosity, part something darker.

The Montgomery family was hanging by a thread, and yet she had turned down his five-million-dollar offer flat, without even blinking. Was her real play to get close to Kash Wagner all along? She didn't seem like the girl he used to know.

Skye stepped onto the empty street as the clock struck one in the morning. Her legs were still unsteady, her mind a mess. The few late-night stragglers shuffling past offered no comfort. Finally, she couldn't hold it in anymore. She crouched right there on the sidewalk and let the tears come—ugly, heavy sobs that tore through her chest. Her failed plan, the humiliation, the weight of it all crashed down on her.

Under the dim streetlights, her shadow stretched long and lonely.

"Sweetheart, why are you sitting here crying? You alright?" An elderly cleaning lady happened to pass by and stopped, concern softening her weathered face.

Skye lifted her tear-stained eyes to meet the sympathetic gaze, her voice thick with emotion. "My dad was locked up for something he didn't do. It's just me and my sister trying to keep our heads above water while everyone else waits for us to drown. I feel like... I can't do this much longer."

For a year, she had worn a brave mask in front of the world, but inside she was running on fumes, barely able to breathe. Maybe it was easier to break down in front of a total stranger.

The old woman offered warm, gentle words. "Life throws its fair share of storms, dear. Nobody sails through without hitting some rough water. But every hardship is a chance to grow stronger. Chin up, you'll get through this."

Since the Montgomery family's fall, most people had mocked them or treated them like poison. Skye never expected the kindest words to come from a random stranger.

Maybe... there were still good people out there after all.

Skye wiped her tears and nodded with fresh determination. "Thank you, ma'am. I will get through this."

Yes, every challenge only made her tougher.

If her first attempt at seducing Trace Ryan didn't work, she'd try again. If she had to, she'd make him fall for her, no matter what it took. She still had a few cards up her sleeve.

By the time Skye made it back to her rented apartment, it was already two in the morning, her head finally clear. She pushed open the door only to find her sister, Mae Carr, perched on the sofa.

Mae was wearing nothing but a flimsy camisole, her face bare and pale. Her eyes were red-rimmed, like she'd been crying.

Skye hesitated, then walked over and asked softly, "Sis, what are you doing here?"

"Who was that man?" Mae always had this calm, composed way about her, and she never raised her voice at Skye. But the disappointment in her eyes slammed into Skye like a fist to the gut, hard enough to knock the air out of her.

"Trace Ryan," Skye admitted without sugar-coating it.

Mae’s expression darkened. "Skye, do you have any idea what kind of man Trace Ryan is? How dare you get involved with him? This could bring disaster down on you, do you understand?"

Skye answered evenly, "Sis, I found out that the person who framed Dad and put him in prison is tightly connected to Ryan Holdings. Getting close to Trace is the only way I might get to the truth. I..."

Mae's eyes brimmed with tears as she cut in, "But Skye, I don't want you to sacrifice your happiness. You deserve a man who really loves you, a quiet, peaceful life. That's what I want, and it's what Dad would want too. Don't you see that?"

"True love?" Skye let out a bitter laugh like she'd just heard the worst punchline in the world. "What does love even mean? How many men have screwed over the women who trusted them since the beginning of time? Just look at you and Bryce Carr..."

The air froze solid. Mae flinched, memories flooding back—the naive girl who once believed saying "I do" to Bryce meant a lifetime of happiness, only to find out it was nothing but a long, humiliating joke.

How could she judge Skye when her own marriage was a dumpster fire?

"I'm sorry, sis..." Skye winced as regret crashed over her. How could she have dragged up Mae's most painful wound like that?

"No, Skye, you're right," Mae said quietly after a long pause. "But because my marriage failed, I don't want you to make the same mistake I did. Trace Ryan is not someone you can afford to mess with. Promise me you won't see him again. Please."

Skye dodged the promise. "Sis, I'm kinda tired. I'm gonna go take a shower."

With that, she turned and walked away. She didn't want to put Mae in a tough spot, but she had already chosen this road, and she'd walk it to the end—even if she had to crawl every step of the way.

A sudden buzzing from the coffee table cut through the silence.

"Skye, let me finish—" Mae called after her, picking up the phone and unlocking the screen. An auto-playing video popped up.

It showed her husband, Bryce Carr, tangled up in bed with another woman.