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Excerpt

The doors open, and a man sticks his head out. “They’re ready for you.”

My pulse leaps and I smooth down my skirt one more time. Years of non-stop study and interning at multiple architectural firms haven’t quite prepared me for my first big proposal. And this is one of the biggest ones out there—a hotel chain with initial development sites in ten major US cities.

I trail Paul into the room, which is bright and spacious, with large windows showing off the incredible view from the fifty-third floor of King Plaza. Nerves squirm in my stomach as I look around at the serious-looking men and women surrounding the massive table.

My gaze reaches the far end, and all my muscles lock up, the air freezing in my lungs as I jerk to a halt. A pair of cold blue eyes stare back at me. Eyes that were seared into my brain only a month ago.

It can’t be him. It can’t.

One of my team members jostles past me, and I jolt into motion again, forcing my feet to continue moving toward the table. I frantically dart glances at the man, searching for some discrepancy in his features. Something, anything, to tell me this isn’t the person I gave my virginity to during a night that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forget.

But the way his eyes narrow on me tells me I won’t find it.

The intensity in his gaze brings memories flooding back: the things he said to me as he made me come with his mouth and his fingers, his low, dark voice, murmuring filthy words in my ear as he thrust into me, his mouth between my legs again afterward giving me another orgasm, the lazy stroke of his tongue soothing the sting his body had left behind.

It had been after that third orgasm, when I’d been lying there exhausted and wrung out, that I realized I had no idea how a one-night-stand was supposed to end.

I’d thanked him, my cheeks blazing as I tried to figure out what the etiquette was supposed to be for that kind of thing. And then I’d rushed out of his suite and down to the foyer of the hotel to call a ride share, even though he’d offered to call a car for me.

Now I’m seeing him again in the very last place I ever expected. My throat dries and I wrench my attention away from him and focus on finding an empty seat as another harsh blush burns across my skin.

I can’t believe this is happening. How is it possible that I slept with the King Group’s Chief of Operations and didn’t know it? Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions. After all, when we first got word that we’d be putting a proposal together for this project, I’d looked up both the CEO and the COO of the company, and it wasn’t Cole’s picture I saw. Although… now that I think about it, I can see a resemblance between him and the man I remember from the photo.

I steal another look at him as I pull out a chair halfway down the table and sit. The older, far more portly man sitting next to Cole is talking to him, and I take the opportunity while he’s distracted to observe him more closely.

And now my throat is dry for another reason.

If I thought the Cole who lived in my memory was gorgeous, seeing him in his impeccably tailored suit at the head of this enormous table, with everyone focused on him, either overtly or covertly, is absolutely panty-melting. He looks powerful—in control. He exudes the confidence you’d expect from a man in charge of thousands of people and numerous multi-million dollar real estate development projects around the world. Based on what I know about the King Group, Cole has to be a billionaire.

I’m in hospitality. That’s what he’d said that night.

I huff out a breath. While he wasn’t outright lying, considering his actual position within the company, he’d definitely stretched the truth.

Cole’s eyes flash my way, a bright blue that sears into me, sending a burst of adrenaline through my veins.

I jerk my gaze away. It’s only when I focus on Paul, sitting several seats down from Cole, that my stomach clenches as the true horror of this situation hits me. I’m stuck in a room with Cole, the man who I gave my virginity to only a few short weeks ago, and my boyfriend. The same boyfriend who’d been an ex when I told Cole—god, I have to make sure to call him Mr. King now—all about being dumped. Except, not a week after that night, Paul had turned up at my apartment, begging for a do-over and saying he hadn’t known what he was thinking.

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