THE DON WANTS HER BACK

ERICA

The room in our small house smelled like burnt toast and stale lavender, but my mother sat me down like she was about to give me the secret to the universe.

"Erica, listen to me," she said, smoothing down the front of her faded apron. "When people call him the Young Lord, it’s not because he’s a boy. It’s because every other man who holds power in this city has gray hair and a foot in the grave. Lord Andrew is twenty-eight. That makes him young in the council, even if he’s old to you."

"He is old to me," I muttered, looking down at my hands. I was nineteen. To me, twenty-eight felt like a completely different lifetime.

"Twenty-eight is young for a man with that much blood and money on his hands," Mum warned, her voice dropping low. "And tonight, he’s opening his doors. Everyone is going to his house."

Whatever. I didn't care about the politics or the lords. But I was young, I was beautiful, and I wanted to dress up for once.

Later that afternoon, I went to the high-end district with Jessica and Annabel. Calling them my friends was a stretch, but they were the only girls who let me walk beside them. I was poor, and they knew it. They kept me around because I carried their heavy shopping bags, held their iced coffees, and ran their errands while they tried on shoes that cost more than my mother made in a year. They didn't actually care about me, and we all knew it, even if nobody said it out loud.

Inside a bright, gleaming designer boutique, Jessica tossed her hair back and held up a shimmering silk dress. "This is going to make everyone at Lord Andrew’s party stop breathing."

Annabel looked through a rack of glittering gowns, completely ignoring me as I stood near the entrance holding three of their coat bags. Then, Annabel stopped, pulled a dusty garment bag out of her tote, and tossed a folded piece of fabric right at my chest. I caught it clumsily against my ribs.

"Here, Erica," Annabel said, offering a tight, sweet smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Just wear something different from your usual old rags tonight. Consider it a favor."

Jessica giggled behind her hand.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing my lips to stretch into a wide, bright smile. "Thanks, Ann. That's really sweet of you."

My smile was completely fake, but it did the job. They turned back to the mirrors, completely satisfied with themselves.

By nightfall, Lord Andrew’s estate looked like a glowing palace built on a hill. Heavy iron gates stood open, guarded by men in dark suits who watched everyone like hawks. The party hall inside was massive, filled with crystal chandeliers, expensive flowers, and people wearing clothes that practically sparkled under the lights.

I had washed my hair, done my own makeup, and put on the dress Annabel gave me. It was an older style, but it fit my body perfectly. I knew what I looked like. I was young, and I had a naturally stunning, sexy body—the kind of curves that wealthy women paid thousands of dollars to get through surgery. If I were rich, people would have accused me of going under the knife years ago. But I was poor, so it was just good luck and good genetics.

I took a glass of expensive champagne from a passing waiter's tray, taking tiny sips just to look like I belonged.

And then, the room seemed to shift.

Lord Andrew stepped into the party hall.

My heart skipped a beat. He was unbelievable. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a sharp jawline and dark, intense eyes that scanned the crowd like he owned every single person in the room. He had a strong, sculpted body that filled out his tailored suit in a way that made my mouth go dry. He was cute, sexy, and utterly magnetic.

I stared at him, completely distracted, and my fingers went numb.

Clatter!

The glass slipped right through my fingers. The expensive crystal shattered on the marble floor at my feet, splashing bubbly champagne all over the polished tiles and the hem of my dress.

Before I could even bend down to apologize, a harsh shadow fell over me.

"How dare you waste drinks like that?"

The voice was like dark thunder. Lord Andrew was standing right in front of me. Up close, his dark eyes were cold, arrogant, and sharp as a knife.

"I—I'm so sorry," I stammered, stepping back. "It was an accident—"

"Do you have any idea what that bottle costs?" he snapped, looking down at the mess with absolute disgust before flicking his gaze up to my face.

He was rich, undeniably cute, and incredibly sexy—but the sheer arrogance dripping from his tongue instantly turned me off. All the excitement I had felt just seconds ago drained right out of my body, leaving behind a cold, bitter taste.

He turned on his heel and walked away without another word, leaving me standing there while two hostesses quietly rushed over to clean up the mess.

Before I could recover my senses, a heavy hand grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the main floor. A tall guard in a black suit pushed me toward a side hallway near the velvet ropes.

"Hey! What are you doing?" I gasped.

"This is the VIP section, miss," the guard said coldly. "You can't stay in the main hall. You have to pay $50,000 to join the big league party tonight. Or else you party back here with the security."

Fifty thousand dollars? I had never seen that kind of money in my life. My whole family hadn't seen that kind of money in a decade.

"I don't have that," I whispered, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Then stay behind the rope."

The guard turned his back on me. Suddenly, the lively party hall felt millions of miles away. It felt vacant and empty from where I stood in the dim corridor with just a few silent security men watching the doors. I looked around for Jessica and Annabel, but they had vanished deeper into the crowd hours ago. They hadn't checked on me once. Are they even my friends? I thought bitterly. No. They never were.

I made up my mind to just hang around the quiet hallway and wait for them to leave so I wouldn't have to walk home alone in the dark.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the marble hall.

I looked up. Lord Andrew was walking straight toward me. The security guards bowed their heads as he passed, but his eyes were locked entirely on me.

He stopped inches away, towering over me. His intense gaze didn't stay on my face—it slowly roamed down my neck, across my chest, and down the curve of my waist. He was admiring my body, openly and shamelessly.

"Hey," he said, his voice lower now, thick and smooth. "You're the girl who wasted my drink. That bottle cost two million dollars... and now you can't even pay fifty thousand to enjoy my party?"

"I didn't mean to drop it," I snapped quietly, trying to keep my chin up despite the way my heart was hammering against my ribs.

He stepped closer. The heat radiating off his body was overwhelming. The smell of rich cologne, expensive whiskey, and pure power wrapped around my senses. Even though I hated his arrogance, my body betrayed me completely. As he looked at me with those burning dark eyes, a wave of heat flushed through my blood. I got wet, my pulse racing so fast I completely lost control of myself.

"You shouldn't be standing out here with the guards," Andrew murmured.

Before I could process his words, his strong hands locked around my waist and lifted me off my feet like I weighed nothing at all. I gasped, holding onto his broad shoulders for balance. As he carried me, I felt the hard press of his dick against my thighs through his trousers, hot and heavy.

He pushed open a set of heavy wooden doors and carried me into a private master suite.

The beauty of the room took my breath away. Soft golden lighting illuminated a massive king-sized bed, high silk curtains, and a balcony overlooking the entire city skyline. It looked like a palace.

Andrew set me down on the edge of the plush bed, but he didn't step away. His hands cupped my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip.

"Andrew..." I whispered, my voice trembling.

"Shh," he murmured, his dark eyes melting into something deep and fierce.

His arms wrapped tightly around me, pulling me flush against his chest, and he leaned down to kiss me. The moment his lips touched mine, the rest of the world disappeared. The arrogance was gone, replaced by a deep, consuming warmth. His touch was firm yet unbelievably gentle, lifting me up and making me feel like I was floating straight into paradise.

He undressed me slowly, worshiping every inch of my body as if I were the rarest thing he had ever found. Lord Andrew made sweet, passionate love to me on that bed, his breath heavy against my skin, his body moving with mine until I was crying out his name in the quiet night.

As the frantic heat settled and he held me tightly against his chest, his fingers softly stroking my hair, he leaned down and whispered into my ear:

"I love you."

He didn't even know my name yet. He hadn't asked, and I hadn't told him. But as I lay in his arms in the quiet room, hearing the steady, heavy beat of his heart against my cheek, I looked up into his eyes... and I believed him.