CHAPTER 2

EVELYN

Paige insisted that the best cure for heartbreak was a few overpriced cocktails and a night far away from painful memories.

Against my better judgment, I agreed. What was the alternative? Go back to that house and stare at the ceiling while my brain replayed that video over and over again?

No, thank you.

By six that evening, Paige and I were already sitting in one of the city's most expensive hotel bars. The place was elegant, filled with soft piano music and people enjoying expensive drinks as though they didn't have a single problem in the world.

I wished I could be one of them. Instead, all I could think about was Julian, his betrayal, the intern, and the video I wished I'd never seen.

Paige watched me for a moment before topping up my glass. "That's enough thinking," she said. "Tonight, you're not someone's neglected wife. You're Evelyn Jones. Beautiful, smart, and way too good for that cheating bastard."

She raised her glass. "Here's to Julian Sullivan. I hope every one of his credit cards gets declined... and he goes bald." She clinked her glass against mine.

Despite everything, I laughed. A real laugh. The first one I'd had since my world came crashing down.

~~~

Nearly two hours later, the champagne had left my body warm and light but my thoughts were still there, crushing my chest.

By the time I stepped out of the elevator, the hallway was almost silent. My heels sank into the thick carpet as I walked toward my suite.

Since I'd refused to go home, Paige had booked me one of the executive suites upstairs. Before leaving, she'd told me she had a little surprise waiting for me in the room.

Knowing Paige, it could have been anything.

The numbers on the doors blurred together for a second before my eyes focused again. I stopped in front of what I was pretty sure was my suite and pulled the key card from my purse.

I was about to tap it against the scanner when I noticed the door was already slightly open.

Just enough to leave a narrow gap, as though it hadn't closed properly.

I frowned.

Too tired to think much about it, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The suite was quiet. A single lamp beside the bed filled the room with a warm golden glow. I slipped off my heels and took off my dress before I climbed into bed, pulled the blanket over myself, and buried my face against the cool pillow.

Then I heard the bathroom door open.

I frowned and rolled onto my back just as steam drifted lazily into the room. A man stepped out through the cloud of warm mist.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and ridiculously handsome. His dark hair was still wet from the shower, and tiny drops of water slid slowly over the hard lines of his chest before disappearing beneath the white towel hanging low around his waist. Another towel rested casually in his hands as he dried his hair, completely unaware that he wasn’t alone.

I blinked once before the thought hit me.

Paige.

Oh, that ridiculous woman.

She’d actually hired me a gigolo.

She thought a handsome stranger with muscles could fix my broken heart.  

The man lowered the towel from his hair, and the moment our eyes met, he froze. Genuine surprise flashed across his face for the briefest second before it disappeared behind a calm, unreadable expression.

“No,” I murmured. “Mr. gigolo.”

He remained silent, simply watching me.

“I don’t need your service tonight,” I continued, “I’m married...with a man who claims loving me more than anyone in the world.”

I tilted my head as I studied him again. “Can we get a refund? Actually… you look expensive. Really expensive.”

His eyes dropped briefly to my hand resting on his arm before returning to my face. Something unreadable flickered across his expression, and then he let out a quiet scoff.

“Evelyn.”

I froze. He knew my name?

And there was something strangely familiar about his voice. 

He looked at me for another long second before speaking again.

“My nephew couldn’t satisfy you…” he said calmly. “…so you came looking for pleasure somewhere else?”

I frowned at him. Nephew? Why would a gigolo be talking about his nephew?

Then I really looked at him. Not just at his body or the water still glistening on his chest, but at his face. His sharp jaw. His cold, steady eyes. There was something painfully familiar about him.

I reached toward the wall and switched on the main lights. The room became brighter instantly.

And then it hit me.

My stomach dropped.

Oh, God.

Viktor Sullivan

Julian's uncle.

The black sheep of the Sullivan family. The man who had walked away years ago, built his own empire from nothing, and somehow became even richer than the family he'd left behind. I'd only met him a handful of times at family events, but Julian had made one thing very clear.

"Stay away from Uncle Viktor."

My face burned.

"Uncle Viktor..." My throat suddenly felt dry. "Since when did you become a...?"

"A gigolo?" he finished for me.

I couldn't even answer.

"I'm not."

The two simple words broke me.

"Then... why are you in my room?"

He didn't look offended. If anything, he seemed strangely calm.

"This," he said evenly, "is my room."

I frowned harder.

"No. Paige booked me Room 1408."

Without saying another word, he reached toward the door.

I turned toward the entrance and finally noticed the number.

1403.

My heart stopped.

The embarrassment hit me like a truck.

"I'm... I'm so sorry." My voice came out as little more than a whisper. "I honestly thought this was my room."

Viktor held my gaze for a long moment before speaking. "Before you apologize," he said quietly, "you should probably cover yourself first."

I blinked. For a second, I didn't understand what he meant. Then I looked down.  My breath caught in my throat.

Bra. Panties. That was all I had on.

The dress I'd taken off was still lying in a heap beside the bed.

"Oh my God."

Without thinking, I lunged for my dress and pull it on.

"I'm truly sorry," I said again, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "Can we please pretend none of this ever happened?"

"Get out."

I hurried past him, opened the door, and practically ran into the hallway. The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I leaned against the wall and covered my face with both hands.

How? How had I managed to embarrass myself this badly? 

I let out a long, shaky breath before pushing myself away from the wall. There was no way I could stay in this hotel now. I hurried downstairs, checked out immediately, and called for a ride.

By the time I got home, Julian still wasn't there. I looked at the empty driveway for a few seconds before letting out a bitter laugh.

He was probably with her.