Page 1 of Tell Me You Need Me

prologue

NOLAN

Two Days Earlier

In my world, discipline isn’t a trait, it’s an entire foundation of the Cross empire. If you lose control, even for a mere second, someone is always waiting in the wings to take what you built.

I don’t make mistakes.

I don’t allow personal impulses to override calculated logic.

And I damn sure don’t look at my best friend’s little sister like I want to pin her against the hand-carved mahogany panels of my parents’ estate and pull at the string that’s holding her dress together.

Yet here I stand, in the terrace of my family’s estate in Hunts Point, a crystal tumbler of an eighteen-year-old single malt resting in my palm and doing precisely what I shouldn’t. It’s a typical evening in the Pacific Northwest—crisp air rolls off Lake Washington, the sharp scent of pine and earth mixing with the subtle trace of her perfume.

The lanterns flicker along the wrought iron bannisters, casting a warm glow over the guests milling around the manicured grounds. Wealth of this caliber is loud to outsiders, but here, tucked behind security gates and high hedges, it’s a quiet, suffocating hum. The custom-tailored suits, vintage champagne, and conversation that casually moves millions of dollars with a wave of a hand are normal in this setting.

I should be networking, playing the dutiful heir and CEO, nodding along as board members discuss quarterly yields and acquisitions

Instead, my eyes are locked on her.

Mischa Romanoff.

My executive assistant, the woman who keeps my chaotic life running with military precision, who knows my schedule better than I do and somehow manages to do it with the epitome of crisp efficiency. In the office, she wears tailored blazers, button-down shirts open at the collar, skirts, and her soft brown hair is pulled back nine times out of ten. She’s competent, brilliant, and completely off-limits. The past year, I’ve trained myself to see her only as the vital aspect of Cross Enterprises and my best friend’s little sister.

Tonight, she’s effectively blowing my self-restraint out of the water.

She’s standing near the edge of the terrace, framed by the glass doors of the main conservatory. The pale gold silk of her slip dress clings to every curve of her body. Thin spaghetti straps strings expose the delicate slope of her collarbones and the smooth expanse of her sun-kissed shoulders. The fabric gathers subtly at her waist before spilling over the dip of her hips, ending just past her knees.

Then there are the shoes, strappy metallic stilettos that add three inches to her height, elongating her legs. Every time she shifts her weight, all it does is accentuate the taut curves of her calves and the incredible shape of her ass beneath the cling-to-her-skin, shimmering silk. Her hair is down—long, dark brown waves with golden highlights framing her face. Her soft, pouty lips are painted in a dusky rose. Deep green, soulful eyes above a dusting of freckles across her nose that makes her entirely too fucking kissable.

My chest tightens and my dick pulses beneath my now too-tight suit pants, and the need to move closer is at an all-time high. I take a slow sip of my bourbon, the amber liquid burning down my throat, doing absolutely fucking nothing to calm the fire in my veins.

She’s eleven years younger than me, Maxim’s little sister, the girl who used to tag along when we were teenagers. The girl who studied late in the library while Max and I built our first startup. The girl I promised myself I would protect.

Tonight, the “little sister” shield has completely vanished, replaced by a deep, instinctive realization: She’s a woman and there’s no denying it. As if she can feel my eyes on her, Mischa begins to turn around. She’s holding a delicate flute of champagne in her hand. Slowly, deliberately, she looks over her shoulder, her green eyes sweeping across the lawn until they lock directly on mine.

She doesn’t look away.

And neither do I.

Everything fades into the background—the noise of the party, the clinks of crystal, the soft string quartet playing, and the booming laughter. It all dwindles into a dull blur. There’s only the heat connecting us nearly twenty feet away.

A tiny, wicked smirk pulls at the corner of her lips. It’s subtle—so subtle anyone else would have missed it. But I know her better anyone in this room. She knows I’m staring at her. She knows exactly what her dress is doing to me, and for the first time in the past year she’s worked for me, the professional masks slips.

My fingers tighten around my glass. The urge to close the distance between us makes my balls ache. I want her. I want to walk up to her, to slide the palm of my hand into the low dip of the silk dress at her spine and pull her flush against my chest until she can’t breathe anyone’s air but mine.

I tilt my head, holding her gaze, and slowly bring the tumbler to my lips. When I lower the glass, my mouth curves into a slow, flirtatious promise. I send her a wink and a silent challenge, one that says, I see you, Mischa. And we’re going to talk about this later.

Her eyes widen slightly, her cheeks flush the prettiest shade of pink, and her breath catches behind her full plush lips.

I take a half step forward, ready to do something completely reckless, something that would shatter every rule in the book, when a heavy arm suddenly drops onto my shoulder, instantly shattering the moment.

“Nolan, man, I’ve been looking all over for you.” Maxim’s voice booms right next to me. I freeze and my blood turns cold as I tear my eyes away from Mischa’s, looking into the face of my best friend.

“Max.” My voice comes out far rougher than intended. I clear my throat, forcing my face into a neutral expression. “Didn’t hear you walk up.”

“Yeah, because you’re staring off into space.” Max chuckles, taking a heave swig from his own class of vodka. He turns, blocking my direct sight of Mischa. “Listen, I just got off the phone with my legal team in Singapore. The acquisition papers for the biotech merger are coming through at midnight. We need to review the indemnification clauses before the markets open on the East Coast tomorrow.”