Chapter 1

A pounding headache ripped me from sleep.

I blinked, my eyes struggling to focus. This wasn't my bedroom.

The walls were glass, revealing a city skyline that glittered far below. A penthouse. The sheets beneath me were silk, cool against my bare skin.

Panic seized me.

I sat up, clutching the sheet to my chest. A man' s crisp white dress shirt was all I was wearing. It smelled of expensive cologne and him.

My own clothes were nowhere in sight.

A man was asleep beside me.

His back was to me, broad and muscular under the sliver of moonlight filtering through the enormous windows. His breathing was deep and even. He was completely at ease.

I was not.

My mind was a foggy mess of regret. Last night. Mark, my now ex-boyfriend, had called it quits. His excuse was pathetic, something about needing to find himself. I went to a bar. I drank. A lot.

My memory offered up broken pieces: a dark bar, the sting of tequila, a deep voice cutting through the noise, a hand on my back guiding me out.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I needed to get out of here. Now.

Slowly, I slid out of the bed, my feet hitting the plush carpet. I moved like a thief, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I spotted my dress, a crumpled mess on a leather armchair. My purse and heels were on the floor beside it.

I snatched them, my hands shaking. I didn't bother putting the dress on. I just wanted to be gone.

But at the door, a morbid curiosity made me stop.

I had to know. I had to see the face of the man I had just spent the night with.

I crept back toward the bed, holding my breath.

He shifted in his sleep, rolling onto his back.

The moonlight hit his face.

My breath caught in my throat. The world tilted on its axis.

It couldn't be.