Nathan

Liz's voluptuous figure disappeared into the hall. Nathan clenched his jaw and forced himself to look away.

This was no time for distractions. Marcus Chen, the idiot who owed his father money, had just slipped off toward the restroom.

He followed, unhurried. Chen was bent over the sink with the water running. Nathan grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the wall. The mirror rattled with the impact.

"A week late. I warned you not to play games with me."

Chen stammered out pathetic excuses, but Nathan drove his fist just below his ribs, where he knew it would hurt most.

He doubled over, breathless, a pathetic sound tearing from his throat before he crumpled, gasping against the tiles.

Just then, the door swung open and Richard Crawford appeared in the doorway. His face tightened, though he tried to mask the panic with that fake smile Nathan so despised.

"James mentioned you'd be golfing. Are you going to...?"

Nathan cut him off with a look empty of all expression. Crawford was nothing more than a parasite feeding on the scraps his father tossed him.

"No."

Richard let out a nervous laugh and opened his mouth again, but a weary sigh from Nathan stopped him cold.

"Get out."

The sound of Chen's coughing filled the room as the other coward disappeared.

Nathan leaned over his victim; the movement alone was enough to make the man pull a wad of bills out between sobs.

"It's all I have right now. I swear, before the weekend..."

"It'd better be." He cut him off. "Or your legs become my playground."

The sobs at his back meant nothing to him. He was so sick of doing this kind of work.

He walked back into the hall and over to Walter, who was drinking calmly at the bar. His friend raised an eyebrow.

"Did you sort it out?"

"Of course."

His friend nodded. They didn't need more words. Nathan took a swallow of the vodka Walter offered and let his gaze sweep the room. The same fake bullshit as always.

In the crowd, a dark-haired woman waved at him. Though she wore a modest dress, her curves struck him as familiar.

"She's been watching you for a while now." Walter laughed. "Come on, King, why not give her what she's after?"

"She'll come for it, no doubt."

He turned his back and focused on his drink again. A short while later, the brush against his arm told him the woman was already beside him, holding out her hand.

"You've been alone too long, Nathan Kingston. Shall we dance?"

He didn't remember her name, but neither of them seemed to care, so he followed her to the dance floor.

Her every step was provocative; she knew how to move, and he enjoyed the soft press of their bodies. She slid her hand down from his shoulder, and Nathan gripped her waist in response, drawing a soft gasp from her.

She swayed against him and ran her fingers across his chest, smiling playfully as she held his gaze, trying to pressure him, but Nathan refused to take it further.

The longer he made her wait, the better it would be for both of them tonight. He proved it a moment later when she pulled him down to her level.

"You and I should find a little privacy."

Nathan nodded and took her hand, giving Walter a parting gesture; his friend shook his head, amused.

* * *

As they stepped out into the parking lot, the woman hung on his arm, her sweet perfume wrapping around him.

He was about to open the car door when he saw Liz wobble on her heels near a car, trying to carry Emma. The little girl slept peacefully in her mother's arms, and the nanny looked as exhausted as she was. He went over without thinking.

"Let me help you."

Liz parted her lips to protest, but Nathan had already taken Emma. The girl's little arms wrapped around his neck with a trust he didn't deserve.

He settled the little one into the seat with meticulous care and, as he closed the door, met her evasive gaze.

He was acting like an idiot; he'd managed to keep his distance for years, and in a single night he'd thrown it all to hell over a couple of tears.

Still, seeing her there, fidgeting nervously with her purse while he watched, pulled a smile out of him.

He knew exactly the effect he had on her, and he had no intention of softening it.

He took a step forward, invading her space until she held her breath, and leaned in slowly to brush his lips against her cheek.

She shivered, and Nathan smiled to hide that he was fighting not to grab her and kiss her for real. He should have done it in the garden.

"Good night, Angel."

The nanny let out a nervous giggle, amused by her boss's obvious embarrassment. But the moment Nathan fixed his eyes on her, the woman's expression died on the spot; she hurried into the car.

The slam of the car door snapped him back to reality. He forced himself to walk toward the woman waiting for him.

Before getting into his car, he drew in a hard breath of the cold night air.

"My place?"

The woman looked at him expectantly, and it worked. He laid his hand on her bare thigh.

"A hotel."

He let her pick the music for the drive but regretted it when she started singing, so he sped up.

"In a real hurry, aren't you?" The woman's ego was sky-high, but Nathan didn't answer.

He only meant to take what she was offering. It didn't take long to reach the Imperial, his family's property, and he stepped into the private elevator just as the woman threw herself at him, kissing him with urgency.

But he thought of Liz. Her silhouette. The softness of the way she moved. That natural elegance that seemed to set her apart without effort.

He shut his eyes tight while the woman's hands kept moving. He had to concentrate.

A soft moan escaped her, and for a moment he imagined it was Liz melting under his hands.

The image clung to him like a stubborn shadow, and damn it, he enjoyed it.

But the pleasure didn't last, because Liz wasn't his. She never would be.

Her laugh. Those damn eyes that looked at him as if he were something more than a criminal. Years. All of it had been screwing with his head for years.

Then he'd had to watch her marry a manipulative idiot.

He ran a hand through his hair. On the night of Liz's wedding, he'd pictured himself at the altar with her instead of Richard. Stupid.

He'd spent the next three years avoiding her at every family event, turning down every invitation where she might be.

He shook his head, driving out her ghost while the other woman demanded his attention with an urgency that dragged him back to the present.

The elevator doors opened onto the penthouse, and she walked ahead of him, hips swaying.

He followed, jaw tight; he needed to get on with his life, reach the agreed-upon amount, and get out of that city where he couldn't breathe without thinking of her. Where every damn day was torture, watching what he could never have.

His voice came out hoarse, unrecognizable.

"On your knees."

Liz walked into the office that morning, sleep-deprived but enjoying the weekend quiet. The calm shattered, though, when she looked up toward the office across from hers.

Richard was there, behind the glass of his office, looking impeccable despite not having come home all night. His presence so early, after that text justifying his absence with work, turned her stomach.

"I'm not ready for this," she murmured, focusing on the email she was drafting.

She forced herself to keep her eyes fixed on her reports until the click of heels echoed down the hall. When she looked up, Amelia swept into the office with her usual energy.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, puzzled. Amelia had no pending business with the interior design firm, and she hated setting foot in the office on weekends.

"I'm here to kidnap you. I knew you'd be here. I'm taking you to lunch at the new place on Fifteenth."

"I accept, but... what did you do this time, Amelia Kingston?" Liz gave her a searching look.

Her friend burst out laughing, covering her cheeks.

"You're not going to believe it. I met an incredible man, and it was... the best night of my life. A total stallion."

Liz closed her laptop, grateful for the interruption, and gathered her things just before Amelia hugged her from behind.

"I wish you could see him the way I do."

"Well, introduce me, then. I promise I'll try." Liz smiled at her indulgently, wondering how a woman so determined, so brilliant in business, and so intimidatingly beautiful kept stumbling into the wrong men.

As they were about to leave, Richard appeared and gave them an arrogant smile. Liz, fearing another of his run-ins with Amelia, nudged her subtly to keep moving.

"So you finally caught one," Richard remarked, glancing at his watch.

"I always get what I set my sights on, darling," Amelia replied with a sly smile.

"Well, Amelia, you're quite the little devil." He shook his head, returning her smile.

Amelia put her fingers up to her head, miming little horns, and moved sensually in front of him. Their laughter rang out in the hall, and they exchanged a few words under their breath before laughing again.

She was glad they no longer traded jabs, but the conspiratorial tone between them unsettled her, and she tried to shake off the uncomfortable feeling starting to form in her stomach.

"I know he's crazy about me," Amelia added out loud.

"I don't think you should talk like that about men you've known for one night," Liz advised, her voice firmer than usual as she locked up the office.

She hesitated, not wanting to anger her, but the two of them laughed again, and she didn't understand the reason behind their shared humor.

When had the two of them become such good friends without her noticing?

"I'll see you at home," she told Richard, and his gaze hardened, but he nodded, gesturing toward the hall.

* * *

At Giorgio's, Amelia wouldn't stop talking about her "wonder man" as she cut a piece of steak, describing every detail with a suggestive smile.

"You have no idea what it's like to feel so alive," she said, her eyes bright with excitement. "That man woke my body from an endless sleep."

Liz struggled to focus on the conversation, but the image of the two of them laughing together struck her again, until it stole her appetite.

"Richard didn't come home last night," she blurted suddenly, trying to make her tone sound casual and unconcerned.

Amelia dropped her fork with a metallic clink against the china.

"Lizzie, what's so strange about that? You know how business is, honey; so don't start spinning your twisted conspiracy theories."

"I'm just saying..."

"That you don't trust your husband anymore?" She lifted her wineglass to her mouth.

She looked away toward the windows, but someone touched her shoulder lightly, and she smiled when she recognized Sara Campbell standing there.

"What a surprise, Elizabeth."

"Come, join us," Liz said, pointing to the empty chair, and Amelia's smile tightened.

She was her mother's best friend, and they'd gone to college together, so Liz had a special fondness for her.

The conversation drifted toward lighter topics until Sara mentioned a mutual friend.

"Poor thing, she never imagined her husband would stoop so low. But you know what they say: whoever goes looking always finds something."

Amelia rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"That won't happen to us, least of all to you, Elizabeth, because you have the best husband in the world."

Amelia laid her hand over hers, and Liz forced a smile, but Sara's words had already lodged in her chest.

* * *

On the drive home, anxiety consumed her as she wondered, over and over, whether the doubts growing inside her had any real basis or were only the product of her imagination.

She walked into the living room and found Emma with red eyes, playing alone, so she set her thoughts aside and sat down beside her to tickle her. At first she laughed, but then she broke into tears against her chest.

"Am I a bad girl, Mommy?"

"Of course not," she answered carefully. "Who told you that?"

"It's just that Beth is leaving."

"Oh, darling," she said, cradling her against her chest. "It's because of her daddy's job, but we can go visit her in Dubai over the holidays."

She almost laughed at the way the girl's eyes lit up before she ran off for her favorite doll.

"Can we play princesses, Mommy?" The little girl wiped her face clumsily.

"Of course, sweetheart. So you were crying about your friend?"

Emma looked toward the kitchen and shook her head.

"Daddy got angry."

Liz hugged her daughter tight, feeling her heart clench with pain. She shouldn't have gone out with Amelia.

"Don't cry, my love," she said, winking at her. "You know grown-ups get a little strange now and then."

She smiled, though she couldn't let it go. It was one thing for them to have marital problems and quite another for him to mistreat Emma just because he'd come home in a bad mood.

She walked to the door that led to the garden, and seeing him laughing by the pool was like a stab.

He seemed so oblivious to everything while she wrestled with her own demons that when she saw him set his phone on the counter, she grabbed it on impulse.

But she didn't expect to find it locked.

"What are you doing?" He frowned and snatched it from her hands, plugging it in out of her reach.

Liz felt her heart race.

"I just... wanted to see if you'd gotten an important message."

"Really? Since when do you consider yourself my secretary? Don't you trust me?"

"It's not that, but..." Liz felt cornered. "Today Sara was saying that..."

"Sara? Now that old woman is your marriage counselor?"

Just then Emma tripped; the phone slid off the table and smashed against the floor with a dry crack.

"No! Why the hell can't you be careful?" Richard shouted at her, setting off the girl's tears again.

"It's not her fault," she whispered as her daughter clung to her legs.

"Are you implying it's my fault?"

A knot in her throat kept her from answering, though she wanted to scream at him that she needed an explanation for the chasm that had opened between them.

"That's just perfect." He let out a humorless laugh. "I'm going to rest for a while, since I didn't sleep a wink all night. And I hope you'll stop making up ridiculous stories in that little head of yours."

Emma's sobs brought on her own, because the life she'd known was vanishing like smoke between her fingers.