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PROLOGUE
MIA
“You’ve had your degree for months now, Mia, with nothing to show for it. Maybe I ought to withhold your trust until you take this seriously,” Daddy says, his brow furrowing as he gives me a pointed look.
“I am taking this seriously,” I insist.
It’s not my fault that he insisted I go to college for a “real” degree. I did the work. Mostly. I went to classes. Often enough. But business is boring, and I’m not like my dad. I don’t need the big corporate office and the thousands of underlings scurrying to do my bidding. He’s the big man who found his way in the world of oil, and our family has enough money to last us each ten lifetimes, so I don’t need an income. Why can’t he just accept that I like to bake cookies and party? I don’t need a purpose beyond that.
“You can’t spend your life with no direction. I thought college might help you find one, but you seem just as lost in a fantasy world as you were ten years ago,” Daddy states, his tone gruff.
“Says the man who still throws costume parties for Halloween every year,” I tease, putting on my best innocent face that I know he can’t resist.
Daddy sighs, running his fingers through his graying hair as his expression softens. “I just want what’s best for you, honey. And sometimes, I feel like I’ve deprived you of the opportunity to find your passion because you’ve never had to fight for anything.”
“You worry too much,” I say, rising from my seat in his seventieth-floor New York office and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re the best dad in the world, and there is nothing wrong with providing your daughter with comfort and security.”
“Just promise me you’ll come to the party tonight and speak with some of my colleagues. They might inspire you to make something of yourself.”
“Of course, Daddy. I’ll see you tonight.”
I slip from his massive office with a Central Park view and head down the hall to the elevator bank. I love my father, but his constant nagging is getting old. I suspect he wishes I’d been born a son who wanted to inherit the family business and continue building the Florence empire.
Pity for him, it’s only me.
Well, I might not be the big, bad businessman he would like me to be, but when it comes down to it, my father’s proclivity toward fast cars and even faster women has taught me one thing. Everyone can be brought to my level.
And as a personal challenge, I intend to prove that at the party tonight.
This is going to be fun. And for my little game, I’m going to need the perfect costume.
* * *
Dressedas a flirty nurse and three drinks in, I’m more than ready to start having fun as I scope the crowd gathered in the main room of my father’s penthouse. The music throbs around me, several people dancing to the beat as the DJ synchronizes the colorful light show with his playlist.
The space is filled with the rich and famous who make up my father’s social club. It’s a houseful of millionaires, billionaires, and trust fund babies like me. The perfect opportunity to find a man or two willing to set aside his ambitions and morals for the night to get down and dirty.
Many on the dance floor are here with their significant others, not the right targets for the trouble I intend to cause. But several guests linger in the hallway, chatting with drinks in hand.
I head that direction, sure I’ll find better luck with the single men mingling there or in one of the less crowded rooms that host poker and pool.
“Hi, Mia.” My dad’s secretary and latest conquest flashes me a smile, giving a cute little wave that matches her Playboy bunny costume.
Gag.“Hi, Tina.” I don’t even bother masking the disdain in my tone.
He’s held onto this one for longer than most of the bimbos he’s dated since my mom. But I see no point in going out of my way to get along with her—even if it would make my father happy. Not when I’m sure she’ll be gone before Christmas.
I glance inside the poker room, sure I’ll find a few eligible bachelors there, but quickly change my mind as it becomes apparent that they’re too wrapped up in their game to be of much use in mine.
Moving on to the billiards room, I find my odds look much better, and my heart skips a beat as my eyes land on the leather-vested police officer who leans low across the table, green eyes intent on the cue ball. With nothing beneath the leather vest, his muscular arms and shoulders are on full display, making me think of how easily he could carry me somewhere secluded and have his way with me.
The pool balls give a sharp crack, followed by heavy thunks as two solids find their way into two separate pockets, and Cilian O’Connor’s lips pull up into a sexy smirk. I find it highly ironic that he’s dressed as a cop when I’ve always suspected the Irish business tycoon of being part of the Mafia.
“Good one,” says the pirate with his back to me.
My heels click noisily against the tile floor, announcing my presence over the muffled sound of the music even after I close the door behind me. Luke Hanson’s ocean-blue eyes shift from the pool table, finding mine in an instant.
He stands on the far side of the room with a whiskey sour in one hand, a pool stick in the other. His Southern charm radiates from him as he raises his glass in salute and smiles.
