Alayna’s brow rises and I answer her unasked question. “I asked Liesl what you usually drank. If you had said you wanted something different, I wouldn’t look quite so cool at this moment.”

My play is working—she relaxes ever so slightly and gives me a smile. “Hmm, cool is not quite the word I’d use for you.”

Well, this is intriguing. “What word would you use for me then?”

She blushes and takes a sip of her tea. I’m betting she was thinking something dirty. I’m desperate to find out.

But the waitress interrupts my quest. “Anything else, Mr. Pierce?”

“We’re good.” I wait until she’s gone to return to my pursuit. “What word would you use for me, Alayna?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Controlled.”

“Interesting.” It’s not what she was going to say. I take a bite of my sea bass, seemingly diverting my attention. “Not that controlled isn’t an accurate description of me. But I had thought from the look on your face that you would say something else.”

She doesn’t respond and I’m more convinced that her thoughts were inappropriate. She moves her eyes to study the club below us. As I eat my meal, I study her. She’s not as easy to read as most people I encounter. Or perhaps it’s that I want to know more of her than I can scope out on my own. I want to know what she’s thinking. What she thinks about me.

What the hell is that about? I can’t remember the last time I cared about what someone thought of me. Yet here I am, not only craving to possess her body, but her mind as well. I want to be in her thoughts. I want her as consumed with me as I am with her.

At the same time, the idea petrifies me.

So I deflect. “I know why you agreed to dine with me, Alayna.” Actually, I gave her no choice. But she likely has some ideas of why I’ve invited her here, and it’s time to start weeding out the ones that are wrong. “I have to be honest with you. I don’t intend to help you with your desire to make management.”

In fact, I’d spent the earlier part of the evening discussing this very topic with David. I listened to him tell me Alayna’s qualifications in depth. I let him convince me that promoting her was the best move for The Sky Launch. Only when I was sure he would move her along the career path that I wished for her did I tell him that I had no interest in being involved with the day-to-day operations of the club. We both left our meeting pleased.

Alayna, though, is fidgeting before me and I sense her disappointment in my proclamation.

I attempt to relieve her. “That doesn’t mean you won’t be promoted. David said you’re quite capable, and I’m sure you’ll get the position without my help. I may own The Sky Launch, but I am not your boss. David is your boss and will continue to be unless the business no longer thrives under his command.”

She lets out a sigh and I believe she’s reassured.

Now, with that out of the way… “But I didn’t invite you here to discuss the club.”

Her body tenses again. “Why did you invite me?”

It’s the moment to drop my bomb. But I can’t help but flirt around the other option that has probably crossed her mind. “Perhaps I like you.”

It’s not until after I’ve said it that I realize the depth of its honesty. I do like her. I’m often intrigued by people—not to the level that I am with Alayna, but there are those who do attract my interest. It’s rare, though, that I like them. And I like Alayna. Quite a lot already.

She shudders, and I adore that I’ve flustered her. She takes a sip of her drink. “Perhaps I’m seeing someone.”

Even more, I adore that she challenges me despite being thrown off-kilter. It helps take my mind off how off-kilter she’s thrown me.

I know she’s single because of my research, but I would have guessed it even without my spies. “You aren’t. No man would let his woman wear the outfit you wore yesterday.” Now she bristles, and I wonder if I shouldn’t have brought up the encounter where I’d chided her. My thoughts wander to the tight-fitting corset—how her breasts spilled beautifully over the top. I wouldn’t mind seeing it on her again. In private.

So I add, “Not in public, anyway.”

Her eyes spark at the obvious innuendo I’ve made, yet her jaw clenches defiantly. “Perhaps I’m not into controlling boyfriends.”

Touché. “Very well, Alayna.” I cock a brow. “Are you seeing anyone?”

I’ve got her now. But she doesn’t fold, and that’s to be admired. Instead, she sits up straighter and borrows one of my favorite tactics—diversion. “That isn’t why you invited me, Hudson. You have an agenda.”

“An agenda.” I stifle my laugh. She’s so straightforward with me. It’s alarmingly refreshing. “Yes, Alayna, I have an agenda.”

I’m not prepared to share my agenda just yet. Or, rather, she’s not prepared. I play my next card instead. “I presume you enjoyed your time at my spa last week.”

I wish that I could leave the spa as an anonymous gift, wish that I didn’t have to pull it into this game. But the truth is I’m afraid that she will not accept the even larger gift that is part of this scheme. I have to lay the path, get her comfortable with my wealth. If she can see that she’s already taken advantage of what I can offer, then it won’t be so out of her comfort level to concede to more.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you owned…wait...” The moment she registers what I’ve admitted is clearly shown in her expression. “The gift was from you?”

“Yes. Did you have a nice time?”

“No. Way.” Her mouth drops open in surprise.

“No way?” This isn’t an answer to my question, I know. It stems from her awe. I’m glad now that I had to give this secret away. It makes me want to explore what other ways I can surprise her. Particularly ways that involve no clothing.

“I mean, yes, I had a nice time—a wonderful time, in fact—but no way could you have done that. Why did you do that? You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why ever not?”

Alayna’s eyes are wide and electric. “Because that’s big!”

“Not for me.” I’m not an idiot. I know how it looks. It was an extravagant gift from a stranger. She probably thinks I’m trying to get her in my bed. I am, but the gift was given independently from that.

“But for me it is. It’s huge! And you don’t even know me! It’s completely inappropriate and unprofessional and unprecedented and inappropriate. And if I’d known it was from you, I never would have accepted it.”

Despite her statement, I do not regret my actions. I’m a man with money. I’m not often generous, but I’m rarely refuted when I am. “It’s not inappropriate at all. It was simply a gift. Think of it as a golden hello.” I’m diverting again. Or trying to, at least.

The tactic doesn’t seem to be working. “But you don’t give gifts like that to women who work for you unless you’re running an entirely different kind of club.”

“You’re overreacting, Alayna.” Though she’s actually quite adorable when she’s this worked up.

“I’m not!” Her expression changes from frustrated to quizzical. “And what do you mean a golden hello? You mean, like a signing bonus?”

“Yes, Alayna.” I’ve toyed with her enough. “That’s my agenda. I would like to hire you.”

“I already work for you and I’m happy where I am.” She’s startled and confused.

But I have her attention.

“Again, I don’t feel that you do work for me. I am not your boss. I own the establishment that you work for. That is all. Is that clear?”

I relax when she nods. This is an important delineation for me. As her boss, I’d have the opportunity to work with her closely. However, I want her to choose that for herself. It has nothing to do with the scam Celia is playing—it’s simply how I desire to interact with Alayna. I want our relationship to be unforced. I want it to develop naturally.

I’m a fairly humorless person, but that notion makes even me want to laugh. How can any of it be natural when every bit of it is a ruse?

Well, not every bit of it. Fuck, I don’t even know anymore myself.

It’s then I realize that now that I’m the owner of the club, Celia has nothing to trap me with. I could walk away from this here and now, couldn’t I? I could spend time with Alayna on my own terms—ask her out on a real date, even.

But the idea is too absurd. I never date. And I know Celia—she won’t give up that easily. Also, I’m not a person to make decisions impulsively.

“This wouldn’t affect your employment at the club.” I lean toward her. “Maybe hire is not the correct term. I’d like to pay you to help me with a problem. I believe you’d be perfect for the job.”

“You win. My curiosity is piqued. What’s the job?”

I have her exactly where I want her. I pause to heighten the suspense. “I need you to break up an engagement.” God, how I’ve mastered the art of drama. It’s pathetic; it really is.

She coughs. “Um, what? Whose?”

Leaning back, I reveal my bombshell. “Mine.”

She gapes and I’m lost again in naughty thoughts about her lips. “Close your mouth, Alayna. Although it’s quite adorable to see you flabbergasted, it’s also very distracting.”

Though she closes her mouth, I can see she’s still aghast. I pass her my wine. She takes a swallow—her taste mixing with mine—and then speaks. “I didn’t realize you were engaged.”

She blushes as she says it and I have to look away. She’s too delectable. I consider abandoning the scheme and focusing on seduction instead. But there’s still a lot of groundwork to lay so I deny myself a little longer, and explain to Alayna Withers the strange relationship that Celia and I have found ourselves in. Though much is omitted, almost none of what I say is a lie. I tell her how our parents are friends, how they want us to marry, how my mother thinks there is no one but Celia for me.

I don’t say that our parents’ belief that we should wed is based on a relationship that Celia and I never had. The Werners and my mother—they’ve partnered Celia and me in their minds ever since that summer ten years before. That’s not an important part of this charade, though, and it’s a time I prefer to not think about. So I leave that out.

I leave too much out. Because she soon says, “I’m missing something.”

I nod. “I suppose you are.” I take my glass back from her and finish it off before clearing up the last detail. It’s another truth—the most important truth of this scheme, and one that I’ve never been ashamed to admit. Until now. “Alayna, if there is anyone in the world who has any power over me, it’s my mother.” And Mirabelle, but that’s neither here nor there for the moment. “My mother knows that I am…” I don’t need to search for the word, but I pause anyway. “…incapable…of love. She worries that I will…end up alone. A marriage with her best friend’s daughter, at least, insures that won’t happen.”

I wish I had more to drink as a new doubt starts creeping in. Am I really incapable of love? Or was it merely an idea planted by a psychiatrist in my teenage years with no basis in reality? I’ve never cared to challenge the notion, and suddenly, out of nowhere, I wonder if I should.

But that challenge could threaten to disrupt everything I know.

So I quickly abandon it, and move on with the setup. I explain that if I were in love with someone else, our parents would be delighted. More than delighted—my mother would have a fucking heart attack. Or she simply wouldn’t believe it. That is the more likely scenario.

At one point, Alayna narrows her eyes and asks, “So I’m supposed to be the floozy you’re in love with?”

This amuses me greatly. There is nothing common or lowly about the woman sitting across from me. “No one would ever mistake you as a floozy, Alayna. Even when you dress like one.” I was particularly naughty with that last line. It was an excuse to think of that corset one more time. Fuck, she was lovely in it.

She’s not quite so happy with my comment. “Why don’t you hire a real floozy to put on your charade?”

“My mother would never believe I’d fall for a floozy. You, however, have particular qualities—qualities that would make the story quite believable.”

“What sort of qualities?”

Her patience is wearing. Frankly, so is mine. I can’t skirt my desire for her any longer. I catch her up in my stare. “You are exquisitely beautiful, Alayna, and also extremely intelligent.”

“Oh.”

She’s stunned. As am I. Because in her eyes, I see the reflection of my own want and I yearn to explore it further. Yearn to explore her further. Carnal fantasies fight for playtime in my conscience. The things I could do to her…